Chapter 6: The Inheritance

The rest of James's lesson with Dawlish went rather uneventfully, and with just enough time to spare. At nearly two in the afternoon, it left just enough hours for James to make a fun day of it. Dawlish walked him back to High Street, where they parted ways and Dawlish disappeared into the crowd. James had a question to ask him, but thought better of it.

Next time, he told himself as he approached a building on the corner of High Street and another, smaller road whose name James forgot at the moment. In comparison to the rather staid appearance of the other buildings in Hogsmeade, this one was almost garishly colorful and bustling with activity. At the front of the building was a giant, grinning mannequin, doffing his bowler hat and revealing a head of bright red hair.

James allowed himself a chuckle, and went inside.

As he had predicted, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was very nearly too crowded to extend one's elbows. He found himself being bumped and jostled every three seconds by someone or another.

"All right there, Potter?"

James turned his head.

"Oh… hey, there, Egan," James said, catching sight of his old Quidditch teammate.

Crowded as it was, James tried his best to scan the shop for any sight of Serra or Murphy…

"EUURRRGGGHHH!"

An entire crowd of bodies backed away from the same spot at the same time. James felt something slam into his face. Spots danced before his eyes. He hit the wooden floor, his eyes now swimming and his nose throbbing terribly. Something orange swam before his vision, and James was sure that his rattled brain was playing tricks on him.

It was the upside-down face of a cat.

A very familiar-looking cat.

It disappeared.

"Fi, what are you – oh, my God!" a girl's voice shrieked. "Uncle George! Aunt Angie!"

James sat up very slowly. That voice was definitely familiar…

The next time James was fully aware, he was sitting on a couch in a quiet room. He blinked again, and his eyes refocused. Sure enough, sitting in a nearby chair, hair as ginger as the cat on her lap, was his younger sister. Standing next to her was a tall, pretty woman with brown skin and braided hair.

"Alright, James?" she asked, a small smile crossing her face. "You're supposed to swallow the other end, you know."

"It wasn't a Nosebleed Nougat," James groaned. "Somebody elbowed me on the nose."

"Come on. Get your hands down," she said. James did as instructed. He obviously couldn't see his own nose, but between Lily's sympathetic look, Aunt Angelina's grimace, and the fact that the nose itself was still throbbing, he knew something had gone wrong. "Yep, that's a bad one, alright. Looks like a good Bludger shot. Well, we can't send you back down to the shop looking like that, can we? What will the witches think?"

James watched as his aunt pulled out her wand.

"This is gonna hurt a bit," she warned.

"It already hurts," James groused, his hands going to his face.

"Get your hands down already," Angelina insisted, tapping her wand onto James's hand. A tiny spark flew off of it, just hot enough to get him to pull his hands away. "All right – Episkey!"

James's face exploded; or at least, he thought that it had for a second. There was heat, and then tremendous pain and a crack that sounded like someone had Apparated right next to his ear. Then a chill spread from his nose and across his face. He shivered.

"Tergeo," Angelina muttered. James put his hand to his face. No blood, no pain, and the nose was not broken. She smiled. "There… how does it feel?"

"Not bad," James answered. Angelina smiled, putting a hand on James's shoulder and looking satisfied.

"Take the chute when you come back down, will you?" she requested. "I don't want these kids trying to barge into our flat straight up the stairs."

And she walked out.

James stood up.

"What are you doing here, Lily?" he asked.

Lily stood from her wooden chair, allowing Fiamma to drop from her lap. The small cat let out a surprised yowl and looked up at her mutinously.

"Mum sent me over by Floo," she said. "We both thought you'd show up here eventually. Of course, I didn't expect to find you on the ground with a bloodied nose."

"Yeah, me, neither," James deadpanned.

"Why are you so late?" Lily asked, leaning forward and putting her fists on her hips accusingly. "I thought you'd be here in the morning."

"I had a lesson," James said.

Lily tilted her head. "What? You're an awful liar, you know. It's Saturday. There aren't any classes on Saturday. Even I know that."

James was confused. "Dad didn't tell you about… never mind. It's complicated."

She grimaced and flopped onto the couch next to James.

"So… how's school?"

"Alright," James replied laconically.

After a bit more silence, Lily latched onto his arm.

"D'you think they'd notice if you just came back home for the weekend? We could send you back Monday."

"Is it really that bad?" asked James. "I thought you'd like having the house to yourself."

"Are you joking? It's dead boring." Lily said.

"What happened to Hugo?" asked James.

"He's at home with Aunt Hermione," Lily explained. "Caught some sort of cold or something. Where's Al?"

"He's not here," James answered simply. "Only third years and older can come to Hogsmeade."

"Oh… that's right, I forgot…" Lily uttered, punctuating it with a disappointed groan. "I guess I won't see him until Christmas, then… oh, well. At least I saw Dominique today. She was here earlier."

"Did Freddy or Roxanne show up?" asked James.

Lily looked up at him. "Are you joking? Of course not. They know better than to come near the shop."

Lily didn't explain this in full, but James knew what she meant because Freddy always complained about it. If Uncle George ever caught Freddy or Roxanne in the shop during a Hogsmeade weekend, he would often enlist them to help out for an hour or two – whether they wanted to do it or not. Roxanne was usually more gracious, but Freddy (even though he assisted regularly during the summer) found it irritating. Their time at Hogsmeade, after all, was limited, and he didn't want to spend a large chunk of it working.

Speaking of limited time…

"Merlin's pants," muttered James, looking at a nearby clock. Lily suppressed a giggle. She'd always found that interjection funny. "It's past three o'clock. I meant to try to find some friends here. I've got to go…"

He stood up to leave. But Lily pulled on his arm. He turned around right in time to feel her ram her head into his chest. For a moment he thought she was crying, but she simply stayed there silently, arms locked tightly around his back.

"Wh...what's this for?" asked James.

"As soon as we go back down to the shop," she said, "you'll be too cool for me again."

James was actually rather hurt by this. "No, I wouldn't, Lily. Why would you say that? You're my sister."

"That's what I meant," Lily replied candidly. "Little sisters aren't cool."

James grimaced thoughtfully and patted the top of Lily's red hair. "You're almost eleven yourself, you know. It won't be long before you're at Hogwarts with the rest of us."

Lily harrumphed. "Mum and Dad have been telling me that every day, almost."

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" James asked.

Lily finally broke off from him and folded her arms. "Sure, it's the truth. That doesn't mean I don't get tired of hearing it all the time."

She looked down. James couldn't help but snigger. Lily looked up again and her eyes flashed. She flailed a hand out and hit James on the shoulder.

"It's not funny!" she exclaimed, now sounding distraught.

"Is it really that bad?" asked James seriously. "We all thought you'd be happier after you got Fiamma… where'd she go, anyway…?"

He looked around vaguely, finding no sign of the small, ginger cat.

"Fi's alright – except when she scratches, but…" Lily sat down. After contemplating her knees for a moment, she looked up at James and asked, "Well, how would you feel if somebody took your family away and tried to replace them all with a cat?"

James resisted the urge to chuckle, but failed. Lily didn't hit him this time; she just looked up at him from the chair and pouted. James put his hands on your shoulders. "Like I said… it won't be long now. And now that I'm a third year, I'll be coming to Hogsmeade two or three times a term."

"Do you know when you'll be back?" Lily asked. James shook his head.

"But I'll make sure to send you an owl as soon as I find out," he said. "How's that?"

Finally, some of the smile began to return to Lily's face.

James emerged from a hole in a wall, landed on his feet, and turned to look behind himself. She was sure taking her time up there. Somewhat against his better judgment, he crouched and tried to peer up into the chute. He was barely able to stop Lily, who came careening down the chute headfirst. Quietly, they emerged from behind the shop's main counter and back into its innards without anyone being any the wiser. They passed by the area where James had taken the elbow to the nose earlier and noticed that it had been cleared away and was no longer attracting nearly as much attention. James was slightly disappointed. He never got to see what, exactly, was worth all of those students paying nearly no attention at all to their surroundings. He did, however, see two familiar faces standing there, conversing.

"You're sure you saw him around here?" the boy said, his long, dirty blond hair lank and dark with what looked like rain – had a sudden shower started outside? The girl's hair didn't seem to be wet.

"Apparently, some boy ate a Nosebleed Nougat and a Puking Pastille at the same time on a bet."

The boy cringed. "…He didn't puke blood, did he?"

The girl grimaced. "I wish. It would have been better than the image I've got burned into my brain now. Anyway, right about when that happened, I caught sight of him, standing right around…" she turned in James' direction. "Oh! There you are! We've been looking all over for you!"

"Including outside on High Street," said Richard Murphy, running a hand through his wet hair. "Did I mention it's raining?"

"Sorry," James muttered. "We probably should have arranged a place to meet, but I didn't know when Dawlish was going to let me go…"

"Fair enough," Murphy said.

"So," Serra said, ambling somewhat around James. "Who's this?"

Lily, hilariously enough, reacted to Serra with the same somewhat uneasy expression James had always done. "My name's Lily."

"So you're James's sister! It's nice to meet you," Serra said politely. James couldn't tell if Lily was flattered or nervous. Murphy laughed.

"Stop it, Serra, you're scaring her," Murphy laughed. Serra frowned at Murphy petulantly, but stepped aside to give him room. "Hi, there, Lily. My name's Richard Murphy. I'm a friend of your brother's. I've got a little sister as well – Anna. You might meet her when you come to Hogwarts next year."

"Next year?" repeated Serra in badly-disguised shock. "How old are you, Lily?"

"I'll be eleven in December," said Lily, sounding somewhat indignant.

"Oh… that's nice," Serra replied. Her politeness was overdone and Lily didn't seem to be buying it.

"Don't forget the match," she said instead to James. James extended his arm to hug her, but Lily must have assumed he didn't want that; she darted away before anyone else could get another word in. Murphy was now staring at Serra with a disapproving frown. She turned her eyes to him slowly and uttered, "Well… you were thinking it, too, weren't you? I thought she was… I dunno, eight. Nine at the oldest."

"She's sensitive about it," James muttered apologetically.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad we got rid of her," Serra said darkly. Giving James a meaningful look, she said, "We found out something interesting."

"Interesting…" repeated James uncertainly. "What's that mean?"

"We found out more about Byd Newydd…" Serra started.

"Oi! Hold your effing hippogriffs, will you?" Murphy interrupted through his teeth, much to Serra's shock. She fixed a somewhat defensive expression on her face. "First of all, not here. Second, that's new information. You can't just throw new information at people and not explain a bloody thing about it. That's as bad as half our Professors. Third, not here."

"What the hell's a Byd Newydd?" James repeated what he thought Serra had said. Then, looking at Murphy, he added, "And why not here? With all the other noise…"

"I can think of one reason," Murphy said, his face suddenly going as white as a sheet. James whirled around and saw what had horrified him so. Appearing from behind a kiosk of Exploding Snap cards were two girls James recognized. One was Gryffindor's new Keeper, Gemma Bridge. The second was her best friend, Madison Peakes. Almost as if reading James's mind for his (or, rather, Murphy's) worst fear, she set eyes on their group and walked toward them. Gemma brought up the rear – rather reluctantly, if James correctly read the look on her face.

Murphy growled several words in what James assumed to be some form of Gaelic – and judging by their tone, James guessed they were not the type of words one would usually hear in polite conversation.

"Is there a story here that I'm missing?" asked Serra, looking bewildered.

"Yeah," James said darkly. "You remember the Valentine's social from last term?"

"Madison!" Murphy put on his best painted grin. "Fancy meeting you here. Weather's hard cheese today, innit?"

Madison was thoroughly unamused. "You're a bloody coward, you know that?" And she added a few words for color as well – words James was quite glad Lily wasn't still around to hear.

"I wouldn't exactly call it—"

A forceful application of Madison's palm brought Murphy's feeble explanation to a screeching halt. James was just far enough away to see both other girls' expressions. Gemma winced sympathetically. Serra was hilariously white, and was clearly wondering whether she had made the right decision to rub shoulders with Gryffindors.

"You stupid Mick!" snapped Madison. Gemma opened her mouth to argue, and James knew why. He never understood the exact history behind it, but he knew that particular term was considered rude when directed toward an Irishman. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't curse your eyeballs out of your head!"

And in this moment, James realized that, if he were to speak, it would be as a voice of reason in this rather volatile situation. How ironic. "Sorry… I've gotta ask this question…"

Everyone turned to James in mild surprise at his measured tone. Even Madison seemed to realize how out of character it was for him – and her expression was priceless.

"Have you really been holding a grudge this long?" he asked. "This is going on, what – seven months now?"

"Eight," Serra commented from somewhere behind James.

"Not helping," James said through his teeth. And it was in that moment that James realized, almost in spite of himself, that Serra was around to stay in their circle of friends, one way or another.

"Mind your business," said Madison. "You wouldn't understand…"

"—Why you're angry at my best mate for leaving you behind during a dance last year? No, I don't" James interrupted. "It's not that big a deal, is it?"

James took one look at Madison's face and slowly started stepping back, prepared to guard his cheeks with his hands so his face didn't meet the same fate as Murphy's did. Madison, alarmingly, had her fists balled up at her sides and looked to be in more of a punching mood – that is, until she burst into tears.

"Boys are so stupid!" she exclaimed, darting through the middle of all of them in a fit and nearly knocking Serra over. Serra watched the other girl run toward the rainy outdoors with a mix of pity and smugness.

"Merlin's pants," groaned Murphy, still rubbing his cheek. "What the hell did she expect – for us to get married or something? I wasn't even her first choice for the Social."

"You were… actually," Gemma finally spoke up – albeit somewhat quietly.

Murphy looked genuinely shocked by this. Then his face changed to a suspicious expression. "No. I wasn't. She was going with Chase Coleman, up until he caught some sort of stomach bug that morning and ended up in the hospital wing with a really bad case of the…"

"That's because Chase Coleman asked her first," Gemma sighed. "She's fancied you since last year. Don't tell her I told you, though."

"And now everything starts to make sense," Serra commented.

"But since you two are a thing, I guess it doesn't really matter now," Gemma said, casting a significant glance between Murphy and Serra.

"What?" James uttered, looking at Murphy.

"What?" Murphy repeated a bit dimly, not taking his eyes off Gemma.

Gemma smirked and shook her head. "See you all later."

And she strode toward the exit. Murphy and Serra stared at her back for a moment. She leaned around him, tilting her head quizzically.

"Her hair's so well-kept all the time," Serra noted. "I wonder what she uses for it?"

James opened his mouth to speak. It stayed there for a moment. It stayed there for several moments. How do you talk about hair after that? In the end, nothing came out at all.

Murphy chuckled. "Such a girl thing to say…" Then his own jaw came open, his face fell, and he was suddenly wearing the expression of a person who had just remembered that he had forgotten something. "...Oh."

"What?" uttered James.

Murphy scratched behind his head awkwardly. "We've gotta go to Honeydukes," he said. "I promised Anna I'd bring her something back."

"Awww, you did?" Serra mewled. "That's so sweet of you."

She giggled awkwardly. Then her face fell.

"Yes, I know…" she sighed, still wearing an amused half-smile. "That was bad."

"Awful," Murphy agreed, and the three of them started toward the exit of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Thus, the conversation about Byd Newydd – whatever it was – was completely tabled until when the Hogwarts students were gathered to leave the village. As they had on the way over, James, Murphy, and Serra took a carriage to themselves – except this time each was carrying a rather sizable bag from Honeydukes Sweetshop. Serra, who apparently had something of a sweet tooth, was already working on hers by the time the carriage wheels started turning. She was shivering slightly, although James couldn't tell whether it was from the weather (still damp and now chilly) or the fact that she had just eaten several Ice Mice.

"So…" James had been left alone on his side of the carriage. "How long's this been going on?"

"What do you mean?" asked Murphy.

"You know what I mean," James replied a bit impatiently, feeling as if Murphy's casual attitude was mocking him somehow. "You? Serra?"

"Oh. Well, see, that's not actually…" Murphy stammered, casting a nervous glance at Serra. "I mean, not to say it'd be bad if… you know, that happened, but…"

"Gemma and Madison caught sight of us at Madam Puddifoot's earlier," said Serra succinctly. "We were there together, but it wasn't a date. Well, it was… just not a real date."

Madam Puddifoot's was a tea shop in town, famous for being a haunt of young Hogwarts couples. For that reason (and for the fact that he hated tea) James was determined never to go near the place if he could help it.

Murphy must have seen the cogs working in James's brain, because he said, "After that little dust-up at the 'Sticks earlier, we followed Beal."

James, who had failed to resist the temptation and was halfway to putting a small piece of chocolate to his mouth, promptly dropped it. "You what?"

"He seemed like he was up to no good," Murphy said. "Granted, that bloke's dodgy, he always seems like he's up to no good – but… Serra thought she'd like to find out exactly what 'no good' involved."

"Pin it all on me, right?" Serra piped up sardonically. "Like you weren't just as curious."

"It was your idea," Murphy said defensively. James looked anywhere but their two faces and had to stifle a laugh. If Murphy and Serra actually had been going out, James wouldn't have been too surprised. They argued a bit like his grandparents.

"Turns out he was on his way to Madam Puddifoot's to meet up with Laurel Cross. I'm sure you know already, people mostly go to Madam Puddifoot's in pairs," Serra said. "So I thought, 'When in Rome…'"

"Rome?" James muttered. "I thought we were talking about Hogsmeade."

Serra's head jerked in bewilderment. "You've never heard…? Never mind. What I meant was, we couldn't go in there without blending in…"

"…Or it would've been obvious we were just there to eavesdrop on their conversation," finished Murphy, still casting an askance look at Serra.

"So you two played at being a couple so you could listen in without being noticed," James reasoned astutely. With a mild smile, he added, "I bet that was entertaining."

"Would have been if Richard had bothered to play the part properly," Serra answered, shooting Murphy a glare.

"Properly?" James repeated.

"Never mind that," Murphy said insistently. "Don't you want to know what we found out?"

"You mean they actually said something important?" James asked. When both of them gave him a strange look, he grimaced and murmured. "Well, I kind of thought… Madam Puddifoot's being the type of place it is, they'd mainly be…"

"…Snogging?" Serra finished.

"…Right," James answered uncomfortably.

"Well, there was a fair bit of that, too, but…" Murphy admitted. "That was after Beal said that the next meeting for Byd Newydd had been moved. I think it was three weeks from today. And Maddox wasn't invited."

"He's not in Malcolm's good graces anymore, apparently," James commented.

"Well, now we know what happens if someone gets kicked out of his little club," Serra said darkly. "Beal said, 'Maddox is an idiot, but he knows enough to make problems for us if he starts talking.'"

James raised his eyebrows. "That doesn't sound dodgy at all."

"Beal wanted Laurel to do something," Murphy said. "Something that mustn't have sat right with her at some point. He started talking about sacrifices needing to be made. He said they had compromised last year because it was Laurel's sister…"

"So I was right," James said. "They were behind Lilith not coming back this year."

"But that must have been better than whatever they were planning at first," Serra said. "Being expelled or pulled out from Hogwarts is awful, when you think about it. You're cut off from any wizards or witches around your own age. And for Lilith in particular, she's away from her sister, and they were very close once…"

James thought back to Lily and her thinly-veiled sadness at being the only Potter sibling left behind, and felt a fresh surge of anger toward Beal and his machinations.

"So, what's worse than that?" asked Murphy tensely.

Serra mused on it for a moment. Her eyes widened, and her face went white. It was obvious what she was thinking.

"No," James said firmly. "Malcolm may be up to no good… but I don't think he'd order anybody killed. That sort of thing comes back on you too easily."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," said Murphy. "But just because Malcolm doesn't approve of something doesn't mean Beal wouldn't do it. And there's another problem…"

"Hmm?" James uttered, looking up.

"The date Beal gave…" Murphy explained. "Three weeks from today… if I remember right, isn't that the first match of the new season? Gryffindor and Slytherin…"

James kneaded the bridge of his nose. Beal knew. They were on to him. "Brilliant."

It was dark by the time the carriages wound their way back to Hogwarts Castle. Most of the students went straight to the Great Hall after getting back; it was time for supper, after all. Serra, however, seemed to have a thought, and promptly separated herself from the boys, mentioning something about the library. James found this mildly amusing. For as much as she talked about not being tied down to the stereotypes of one House, her inner Ravenclaw was very obviously showing. When James and Murphy arrived in the Great Hall, they did so to find it a bit sparsely populated. Many of the students were still filing in. Brynne was obvious at their usual place, but she was joined this evening by a black-haired girl James had seen once or twice in passing. As they slid closer, James hid the small box he'd brought with him behind his back. The black-haired mystery girl noticed them first and pointed them out to Brynne, quite literally. She said something to Brynne that caused a reaction, and when James finally sat down next to her, Brynne didn't meet his eye.

"Did you enjoy yourself in Hogsmeade?" she asked, becoming suddenly interested in the moonlit clouds on the ceiling. Brynne had a gift for carrying on entire conversations while focusing on something completely different. It was one of the few things she did that James still found slightly unsettling.

"Depends on what you mean by 'enjoyed,'" James said. "I had a run-in with… that bloke," he quickly said, casting an askance look at the black-haired girl, who seemed confused as to whether or not to care about what James was saying. "And I took an elbow off the nose."

"Completely unrelated," Murphy felt it necessary to add. Nevertheless, Brynne looked down at the boys; her eyebrows joined together briefly.

"Erm… have a bean," James quickly said, whipping out the box of Bertie Bott's he had bought from Honeydukes. "In fact, take the lot. They're yours."

"I'm not that thick, James," Brynne muttered, frowning – decidedly not the reaction James was expecting. "I know better."

James deflated a bit. "I was just trying to…"

"Never mind," Brynne interrupted, still looking a bit cross. "James, meet Lena Urquhart. She's a Slytherin a year below me."

"Pleased to meet you," Lena reached across the table and shook James's hand. "Brynne was saying you play Quidditch with my cousin."

James tilted his head. "Sorry… who?"

"My cousin," Lena repeated. "Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Oh," James uttered. "…I didn't know Scorpius had any other relatives."

"It was a shock to him, too," Lena replied, showing the first hint of a smile James had seen. She came off as much too serious-minded for an eleven-year-old, for what that was worth. Actually, she reminded him of Albus. She even had similarly black hair and similarly green eyes. What a strange coincidence. "I can't figure out whether he loves Quidditch as much as it sounds like he does, or if he's too awkward with people to talk about anything else… anyway, I was just leaving, so…"

She stood.

"Have fun with your secret conversation, whatever it is," she intoned, walking away.

So what had you so flustered when James and I showed up, huh?" asked Murphy. "Lena said something to you."

Brynne's face pinched in on itself. "I'm not telling you. It's none of your business," she said briskly.

Murphy raised his eyebrows. "Fine, if you say so…"

"So, what happened in Hogsmeade?" asked Brynne, not to be deterred.

"Well…" James uttered hesitantly. "I went to my first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, almost got into a duel or two…"

"I thought you'd say something interesting," said Brynne, sounding disappointed. "That sounds almost like a normal day for you."

Murphy sniggered.

"What's going on with the Every Flavor Beans?" she asked. "I thought you didn't like them."

"I don't like them," James remarked, halfway through fixing himself a plate. "But I notice you've been out of them for a while, and…"

James trailed off. Brynne went back to cutting her roast beef, but then suddenly stopped. "Did you really bring them as a gift for me?"

"Yeah," James replied, bewildered. "I mean… why is that so strange to you? Your birthday's next week, after all. You think I didn't remember? It's not much, but…"

"It's nice," she said, smiling warmly. "Thank you."

"I hate to be that guy…" Murphy intoned a bit uncomfortably. "You know, the one that always kills the moment? But we do have pressing issues to discuss. Byd Newydd, for example…"

Surprisingly, this didn't draw the bewildered reaction from Brynne that James had been expecting. Instead, there was a mix of recognition and curiosity on her face.

"New world…" she muttered.

"Sorry, what?" Murphy was now the one confused.

"Byd Newydd," she repeated, with much more convincing command of the obviously foreign phrase than Murphy had. "It's Welsh. It means 'new world.'"

"Wait… you know Welsh?" an astonished Murphy asked.

"A word here or there," Brynne said nonchalantly. "Technically, I do live in Wales. My auntie and I went into Cardiff a few times a year. Even now, I get all my Hogwarts things in Cardiff, and a lot of the wizards in Cardiff still speak the old tongue. But 'Byd Newydd' is actually a common phrase there. The Welsh wizards – backwards lot if I've ever seen one, by the way – still use it talking about the continents across the ocean."

The boys remained silent. After a year, they knew better than to interrupt Brynne while the cogs of her brain were working. Whenever she was this serious, it was a safe bet that she was going to say something important.

"That's what Professor Malcolm's lot are calling themselves, is it?" she asked. "Might have been Beal's idea…"

"What?" uttered Murphy. "Why do you say that?"

"He spent a while in Morgana's Orchard, too, remember?" asked Brynne. "Whatever it means, it can't be good…"

It was a lucky thing indeed that Brynne went silent for a while after that, because not long after that, James found himself attempting to eat in the shadow of Professor Malcolm himself.

James jumped when he realized Malcolm was there – but Malcolm didn't seem intent on any interaction – at least not until that moment. "It's almost amusing how guilty you manage to look, even doing something simple like eating a meal."

James bit his tongue.

"I certainly hope your education is going well without my influence, Mr. Potter," Malcolm commented. Then, with a smile, he went on: "What am I saying? Of course, I'm sure your parents have provided you with the most learned tutor money can buy. Nothing but the best for their pampered, little prince, right? And as usual, wherever the prince goes, the princess and the court jester aren't far behind…"

"Don't you have more urgent things to be doing?" asked Murphy. "Important man like yourself?"

Malcolm's smile slipped. "Five points from Gryffindor. Maybe that'll teach you to remember your place. I never go anywhere without a reason, Mr. Murphy. And I don't need a thirteen-year-old boy to remind me of those reasons. Good evening."

"Good evening," said Murphy toward Malcolm's back. "And I'm fourteen, by the way."

There was a tense moment in which James expected Malcolm to whip around and lose his temper, but it never came. Malcolm rarely ever did such a thing in public, and in retrospect, James felt foolish for thinking that would suddenly change. But Murphy did indeed look irritated.

"Still not so sure if he's evil," Murphy commented. "I'm about… seventy-five, eighty percent on that one. I'm a hundred percent sure, though, that he's a complete arsehole…"

Brynne laughed; it was not her usual ringing, joyful laughter reserved for friends and good memories. It was more like a scoff, rife with cynicism and irony. "But he did call me a 'princess', so I guess I should feel flattered… sort of."

The end of dinner was quick after that; James, in an effort to improve his friends' foul moods, had tried the reddest of Brynne's beans, and was disappointed (and slightly disgusted) to find that it was not a chili pepper, but rather tomato. He and Murphy separated from Brynne (after seriously having to convince her that running back to the staff table and giving Malcolm a huge piece of her mind would not be the smartest course of action) at the staircases. The two Gryffindor boys ascended while Brynne stomped off toward the Slytherin dungeons.

Gryffindor Tower was quieter than normal. A few Gryffindors had departed for other common rooms for the weekend, and the members of other houses that replaced them tended not to be as lively. James's other roommates had gone as well; Cecil had gone to visit his cousin in Ravenclaw. Same for Dathan with his sister, Madhari. Croyle was missing as usual, and a quick glance at the list revealed that he'd made a late decision to go to Hufflepuff.

So, for tonight, James and Murphy were the only two in their dormitory. They kept to the common room for most of the evening, making small talk and observing the common room. Isaac Pike was helping his younger sister, Coraline, with her homework. James thought of his brief meeting with Lily from that afternoon and wondered if that would be him in a few years, trying to help Lily decipher a particularly nasty Potions assignment… (Probably not.) Speaking of little sisters, Anna appeared in Gryffindor Tower at half past eight, and it was at that point that Murphy realized he'd been in such a foul mood leaving supper that he'd forgotten to give Anna what he had bought for her. When Murphy presented her with the bag full of sweets and a few Zonko's trinkets, Anna pecked him on the cheek and whisked away as quickly as she had arrived. Not long after she left, Albus came in, the only boy surrounded by three girls and looking mildly uncomfortable. James briefly thought of rescuing him, but Murphy (in his first moment of humor since the Great Hall) said it would be more entertaining to watch Albus squirm. That said, Albus didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as Iris Conrad, who followed Sylvia, Rose, and Albus like a shadow while saying next to nothing. Why had she come up here anyway? She seemed like the type that would have been perfectly content to stay in Ravenclaw Tower.

The gathering – if it could be called that – burned itself out, and James and Murphy retreated to their dormitory. It was cozier with two people, as if the room itself had shrunk to accommodate just the two of them.

"Wouldn't it be great," Murphy commented, sitting up in his four-poster, "if it could just be like this all the time, without all those other blokes?"

James shrugged. "I dunno. I mean… Dathan's alright. Croyle's gone so often you hardly notice the difference."

"I think he thinks he's too cool for the rest of us," said Murphy casually. "What the hell does he do anyway? He's not in Quidditch… Gobstones club?"

James threw up his hands mildly. Then, feeling in the mood to needle, he asked, "So how's that face feeling?"

Murphy responded with a rude hand gesture. "Nose down."

"Wow, really? She slapped you that hard?" James laughed.

Murphy sniggered this time.

"All joking aside, though," James said. Murphy turned to him, now sure that James was about to say something important. "Since it's just us two for now, I wanted to show you something important."

Murphy's face angled strangely. "I'm… you know, that's not my thing. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I fancy girls, see…"

James grimaced. "Not where I was going, Murph."

"Of course I know that," chuckled Murphy. "I was just yanking your—wow, that's an awful phrase to use right here, isn't it?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said James.

"Probably a good idea," Murphy laughed. "I was just joking, though. Everyone knows you fancy girls. Or one girl in particular."

"I don't fancy Brynne." James said flatly, for the millionth time, leaping off his bed. "But while we're talking about her, you have to swear never to show her what I'm about to show you."

Murphy's face went completely serious. "Anything else you need me to swear?"

"Yeah, actually," James said, while rummaging under his four-poster. "I need you to solemnly swear…"

James produced an old, old parchment from underneath the bed and held it up to Murphy.

"…that you are up to no good."