A/N: So I stupidly named the previous chapter 'RIP' in memorium of my laptop which died and lost all of my story. No actual characters died in that chapter, as I've had one or two questions about that, heh.


'GO, GO GRYFFINDOR! GO, GO GRYFFINDOR!'

James added his own voice to the furore, standing up in his seat now with the rest of the reserves. There was a touch of desperation creeping in to the chant from the red-and-gold clad spectators, as their voices began to become swallowed up by those in yellow and black.

What had initially started as a slow, quiet dirge, little more than an aberration in the Lions' chanting was now growing, blossoming to a frantic fever pitch, every yellow-clad supported on their feet belting out the opposing chant, spurring their champions onward.

And by Helga, were they responding.

What was supposed to have been a walk-over game for Gryffindor was fast becoming one of the most enthralling matches in recent history. It was as if the Hufflepuff game plan had simply been to stick on Gryffindor's coattails and not let go. Everywhere they Hydra went, they were pressed by their own personal yellow-robed figure. Every move that Diana made was mirrored. Archie and Will MacDougal were fast becoming flustered by the constant attention they were receiving from the opposition beaters.

Not only were the individuals giving the Lions no breathing room, but they were also doing it as a team. After the boys in red nipped out to a four goal lead, the 'Puffs dug their toes in, slowly, inch-by-inch, clawing themselves back. One fistful of red-and-gold robe at a time, they reeled Gryffindor in. And all the while the pitch of that haunting, eerie song of theirs continued to grow.

James could barely make out the Gryffindors' cheer as they were awarded a penalty shot after one of the Hufflepuff Chasers got a bit too close and gave up a Blurting foul. This stretched the lead to one hundred and twenty to one hundred and sixty, in favour of Gryffindor. James could see Lillian and Ryan both giving frantic orders down on the pitch, their voices swallowed up in the oppressing roar from the Hufflepuff stands.

Two more goals to the Lions thanks to some individual magic from Ryan O'Flaherty stretched the lead to six goals; the largest the game had seen. Still the Hufflepuffs chanted.

By this stage James, along with the rest of the reserve bench were just blindly yelling, their voices snatched away from their lips before they could even reach their own ears.

A Hufflepuff Chaser missed a shot at open goal, and then a second attempt was thwarted by some stellar defence by Connor Flint, body checking his opposition flawlessly. The crowd sensed that Gryffindor had wrested back that flighty temptress that was momentum, as Lillian Wood fed Ryan O'Flaherty the Quaffle in open space, only the Keeper to beat.

All of a sudden the Hufflepuffs chanting lost all cohesion, and a swarm of arms pointed up to the sky. For the first time in the game, a thousand voices were united as one in a primal, frantic cheer as both Seekers were locked in a neck-and-neck dive towards the flittering, shimmering Snitch, which hovered just below the balustrade, right in front of where James was sitting.

James partook in the wild screaming, willing Diana onwards. She was caught up arm-in-arm with the Hufflepuff Seeker, both girls a tangle of flailing elbows and wild hair.

'Look out!' cried someone from the stands behind them, the majority of the crowd turned to see the Hufflepuff Beater setting up for a shot aimed directly at Diana. From this distance it would be impossible to miss.

While everyone had their attention snagged, and in the most subtle manoeuvre possible, Diana dropped back half a length on the Hufflepuff Seeker just as the Bludger was let fly. She seemed to slip mid-air, her hand coming free of her broom handle. James gasped as he noticed her fingers covertly snarl a handful of her opposition's tail twigs and give a nasty yank.

The Bludger aimed for Diana zipped past her by the fur on a Niffler's backside and collided with the now-flailing Hufflepuff Seeker, whose broom reacted violently to being assaulted by Diana. Competition free, the vast majority of the stand none-the-wiser, Diana swooped down wearing a wicked grin to snare the Snitch without incident.

Game to Gryffindor.

'I'm telling you mate, I didn't see a thing,' Fred insisted for the umpteenth time.

It was later that evening, the party still in full swing around them. It was perhaps the sheer relief of winning such a tight game that had all of the students so eager to let their hair down. James turned away in disgust from a seventh-year student who was sat across Will MacDougal's lap doing something that he had only ever seen in stick-figure form on one of Tristan's diagrams.

'You must have,' hounded James. 'You were sitting right next to me. It was a blatant Blagging foul. There's no way she should have caught the Snitch. It ought to have been a penalty to Hufflepuff.'

Fred scowled at James from where he sat; the pair were perched on opposite arms of a large, plush chintz armchair, glaring intently at one another.

'Even if you did see something, you don't want to go around blurting it out. I'm pretty sure Renshaw would nullify the win, or something. You know how she is about rules.'

James sighed, defeated. His father had told him what it was like to have the entire school against him. If he went to Renshaw about this he'd certainly have the whole of Gryffindor house, and that would be bad enough. No longer feeling in the mood to party, James began to lead Fred in the trudge off up to the dormitories, but paused when he came across a group of large first-and-second-year students bearing down on a pair of smaller figures.

'-little losers are the only ones here trying to study. It's the weekend, celebrate. Trav has already nicked two Butterbeers, and Simon took a shot of Firewhiskey when Weasley wasn't looking.'

James shared a frown at Fred, searching the room for Victoire to break up the bullying. Seven against two weren't odds he wanted to trifle with.

'You're giving us all a bad name,' another one sneered, scuffing at what must have been one of the smaller student's books and eliciting a squeal of alarm. 'Gryffindor is the toughest house. You, of all people, should be up there partying. You're on the team after all, Potter.'

Something snapped inside of James as he realised just who the students were taunting.

'Al,' he hissed under his breath, immediately snatching at his wand.

Fred's grip on his forearm was the only thing that stopped him.

'Leave it, mate,' Fred hissed, keeping his voice down so as not to alert the group. 'There's too many of 'em. Remember what happened last time you tried to duel in here.'

James wasn't having it; he writhed and twisted in Fred's grip, snarling at the betrayal.

'I'll go get the Cloak, we can take them. That's Al and Rose down there Fred, what the hell is wrong with you?'

'What's wrong with you?' Fred shot back. 'You heard what Ryan said. One more step out of line and you're off the team. For good. Look, Victoire is over there. She can deal with it.'

He waved her over as he spoke, but by now the antagonists were disbanding, leaving a dishevelled Albus and Rose in their wakes. Al seemed relatively unfazed by the whole affair, but even as they watched Rose stood up and took off to the girls' dormitory, tears streaking down her face.

James felt his blood boiling, trying desperately to remember the faces of all those who had been present. Fred ushered him away, whispering frantically, and eventually that scowl turned into a very evil smile.

Unbeknownst to the two boys, Preston Lycnh pushed himself up from where he had been slouching in an armchair, well within earshot of their entire conversation. He had a grin on his face as if all of his Christmases had come at once.

Throughout the week that followed, Chaos stalked the halls of Hogwarts, with a particular penchant for the first-year students. It seemed that there was some sort of virulent virus circulating among them, causing a vast array of unsightly symptoms from chronic vomiting, incessant fainting, angry, stubborn boils, and, for a select few ill-fated individuals, persistent pants-wetting. Mercifully, this plague seemed to avoid James, his friends, Al and Rose despite the fact that Gryffindor first-years seemed to be the hardest hit of the lot.

And so James found himself in the company of most of the second-year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students, traipsing out across the muddy, slippery school grounds down towards the Black Lake one afternoon for an outdoor session of the new class: Magic of Hogwarts.

He shot sidelong glances at a few of their number who were looking a touch queasy, but sadly Preston Lynch was hale and hearty, not so much as crossing his legs in need of the bathroom.

The clouds sat fat and heavy in the sky above them, a low and ominous ceiling giving the evening a close, almost claustrophobic feeling. The air was still and limp, though in spite of this the surface of the Lake swirled menacingly before them, tiny white caps whipped up out of nothingness, reaching for the sky before dying a swift, pitiful death swallowed up without a whimper.

Rain had returned from Renshaw's office earlier in the week, and strode arm-in-arm with James, using his strength for support as she would occasionally slip on the unforgiving surface. She still looked a little peaky, her eyes drawn tight, her skin pale. She had on an even thicker scarf than usual, wrapped firmly about her lower face, obscuring all but her eyes.

The group halted in a small clearing a little ways into the Forbidden Forest, and right on the lakeshore. They milled around uncertainly for a while, their collective breath furling and rising lazily above them, the ground below their feet slowly turning into a muddy, slushy mess. Even Rain screwed up her nose as her once-impeccable and very costly-looking boots slowly became ruined.

'Hello you lot!' a voice boomed from within the trees, causing more than a few students to start in fright. One Ravenclaw girl fainted on the spot; from fright or the sickness James couldn't tell.

'Hagrid!' he yelled, running up to greet the half-giant gamekeeper. 'What are you doing here?'

'Got a bit of a surprise for yer,' Hagrid rumbled happily, clapping an enormous hand on James' back, causing him to drop to one knee in the mud.

'Oops, mind yer step,' Hagrid chuckled.

'Good evening students,' came a second voice, this one much softer, and musical. Despite the fact that she spoke so quietly, the entire clearing ceased fidgeting, all heard her words as if they were spoken directly into their own respective ears.

'Good Evening Professor Trellsen,' they chorused back.

Professor Lorelei Trellsen smiled warmly back out at them. She was a middle aged witch, with a full, round face and large, blinking brown eyes, magnified by her dark-rimmed spectacles. Short of stature, she nonetheless stood proudly, as if making up in posture for every inch she lacked in real height.

'Merfolk,' she said, almost lazily. Despite her relaxed façade and dreamy stares, she was seldom one to mince words. 'The mysterious guardians of the deep. Who can give us a little introduction to these enigmatic beings?'

Cassie's hand was already in the air.

'Originally from Greece-'

'-and related to the ancient Sirens of myth,' Cat interjected, surprisingly equally as eager to answer.

James tried to smother a smile as Cassie flashed a withering glare up at Cat. He thought it might be nice to see someone else get the Dragon Book treatment for a change.

'Merfolk are now found throughout the world; they are a sentient species, who, under the Magical Species Classification Act of 1459 qualify for full 'being' status-'

'-yet have turned down two formal offers to uphold that status due to long-forgotten feuds with the Vampire clans of northern Transylvania, and the fact that it's a secret plot by the Ministry to tax them of their sacred artefacts-'

'Their intelligence is evidenced by their thriving culture and complex societal structure,' Cassie continued. James was currently stood behind her, but he could practically hear the eye-rolling in her tone.

'Yes, yes, very good girls,' Professor Trellsen interjected kindly. 'Five points to both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. You've actually stepped right on to the issue that we are here to discuss today. Now, as the girls helpfully just mentioned, Merfolk are a sentient species; they possess human or, at the very least, near-human intelligence.

'Because of this, they, along with humans, centaurs, vampires, hags and a few others, are obliged to take up what is referred to by the Ministry as 'being' status. All who hold this status are afforded rights equal or near-equal to those of humans. For example, a Vampire, unpleasant as he may be, may walk into the Leaky Cauldron and order a flagon of Firewhiskey, he may purchase a house, he may vote but a Krup, a Mooncalf or a Hinkypunk most certainly may not, even if they somehow possessed the ability to communicate their desires.

'Do you follow me so far?'

The class mostly nodded. James was unsure how this all came under the 'Magic of Hogwarts', but he held his tongue.

'Excellent! Now, as these lovely young ladies have mentioned, the Merfolk have twice refused the offer of 'being' status. They have longstanding feuds with several Vampire and Hag factions, and so see the offer of identical status as an insult. Unfortunately, the Ministry is not willing to offer them any alternative, and so twice they have come to an impasse. As it happens, the Ministry is seeking to put this proposal forward once more, around Christmas time, in fact.

'You may all be wondering how this relates to you. I bet many of you did not know that the Black Lake is home to one of only three registered Merfolk Cities in all of Britain, and we have the fourth-largest Merfolk population here in all of Europe. As such, we have a most thrilling opportunity presented to us at this critical and exciting juncture. In groups of no more than six, in a project lasting the entirety of the school year, I want each of you to study the Merfolk, talk with them, research their history, their lore, their customs and culture, and at the end of the school year, instead of an exam you will each present to me your case on whether the Merfolk should or should not accept this offer from the Ministry.

'Your reports will be reviewed by Ministry officials, and may have a very real impact on their policy moving forward. You will be expected to-'

Professor Trellsen's voice began to become drowned out by the growing rustle and buzz of chatter among the students; equal parts excited and confused. Talking to Merfolk? How exactly did they expect them to do that? Ministry officials? That particular piece of information was met with no small amount of trepidation.

Slowly, haltingly, order restored itself and the students split themselves up into groups. Naturally, James stuck with Fred, Clip, Cat Cassie and Rain. But Professor Trellsen had one final Bludger to send their way.

'Now, who wants to meet one?'

As one, the entire class took a sizeable step backwards. All, that was, except for James Sirius Potter, who had been caught wondering what was to be on the menu for supper that night. He swallowed nervously, looking back at Freddy in sheer betrayal.

'Knew you had it in yer, James!' Hagrid boomed from where he had been leaning up against a colossal fir tree.

James smiled weakly, flinching as the half-giant broke off a branch thicker around than most of the students, tossing it carelessly into the water.

'What the-'

'EEEEEEEEEAAAARRRRRKKLIIIIEEEENNNSSHHEEEEEOOOOIIIIIN!'

James clapped his hands to his ears, appalled. Several of his classmates cried out in fright; the poor Ravenclaw girl keeled over again, out like a light.

'Bloody hell,' Fred eloquently summed up the situation.

'Been workin' on me Mermish,' Hagrid beamed down at James, absolutely chuffed with himself. 'Sirius don't like it too much, but I'm getting' real good.'

All James could hope to offer in return was a wavy smile and an unconvincing thumbs-up.

Seventy-odd students gasped unanimously as the water of the lake, a few yards off shore began to bubble and broil. The murky depths churned, silt-laden water chucked about haphazardly, as if it sat above a fire. Slowly a pair of shapes began to coalesce beneath the surface, shifting shadows melded, drawn in to form two solid shapes. Suddenly, the surface of the water fell dead quiet, a breath held.

Two heads breached the surface of the momentarily placid lake. Water cascaded down in runnels through identical tangled mats of grey-green, almost seaweed-like hair. Faces – alarmingly human – stared back at the students. Small ridges meandered up from jawline to brow, adorned with scale-like protrusions, glinting and winking multifaceted light from the steely grey sky. It was the eyes that really shocked James, much larger than a humans, almost twice the size, with a deep, rich golden-yellow iris and large black pupils. They blinked slowly, taking in the scene before them, identical scowls twisting their slashes of mouths into fanged snarls.

They bobbed calmly on the surface of the water, their bare, half-human torsos exposed to the chilly winds, unflinching. Their gaze was stoic, drifting casually between Hagrid and Professor Trellsen, clearly dismissing the group of students as beneath their lofty regard. A pair of long tubes appeared to be strapped to both of their backs. Cassie sidled up to him, gesturing frantically.

'James, those are Lobalugs,' she hissed, a death-grip on his forearm. 'They're highly venomous, Merfolk use them as weapons. Don't whatever you do let that venom touch your skin, ok?'

James felt his stomach sinking, as if he'd already been thrown into the Lake strapped to a rock. He nodded, a little queasily.

'Promise me you won't do anything stupid,' Cassie insisted.

'I promise Cassandra,' James groaned.

She let out a little squeak at him actually using her proper name, even going so far as to give him a hug.

'Wear this, Mister Potter,' Professor Trellsen suggested, proffering what looked like a large, woollen poncho, easily long enough to cover him head-to-toe.

'Erm…' James looked up at her uncertainly, she merely blinked owlishly back, shaking the item of clothing in her hand impatiently.

James threw it over himself, poking his head gracelessly through to see a few of his classmates giving not-very-assuring smiles. Fred offered a second thumbs-up. Rain's scarf was becoming tangled on the scratchy fabric, and he made to peel it off, but she appeared instantly by his side, clutching his hand in a cold, steely grip.

'Keep it on, James,' she insisted, her voice low. 'Whatever you do, keep. It. On.'

James looked at her wide-eyed, as she grabbed the scarf, pulling it up above his mouth and nose, much like her own currently was. Her fingers suddenly burned hot to the touch, and he flinched back involuntarily. She hissed, jerking his face back to within an inch of her own. James started as he noticed her lips moving frantically, a flickering of fear reflected in her sea-green eyes.

She finally pushed back, running her hand down his arm, as if not willing to let him go. Hagrid let him firmly over to the water's edge, tiny waves lapping playfully at his toes. Twin stoic watchmen regarding him in stony silence.

'Your essay on the Social customs of the Merfolk was most exemplary, Mister Potter,' Professor Trellsen beamed at him. 'Only Miss Lovegood and Miss Featherstone scored higher. As such, I'm confident you are well equipped for this situation. Just pop down and say hello for now, no need to linger. The coat should keep you safe. Purely woven from the fibre of Poseidon's Vine, I'm sure you've heard of it.'

James racked his brain, the name seemed familiar. Before he could dally too long, he felt himself lifted bodily up off the stony ground. He screamed and squawked frantically, much to the class' delight, before Hagrid wound up and tossed him a full thirty feet out into the water. His arms windmilled as the sky and lake danced back and forth before him.

He landed with a crash, icy water instantly enveloping him, punching the air clean from his lungs. He screamed again as the water washed over his head, shutting out the dreary grey sky, replacing it with inky blackness. He screamed and screamed until his lungs were burnt out, his throat raw. He flailed madly for a moment before he was hit by a staggering realisation.

He wasn't even wet.

He looked down at his hands, holding them up in front of his face in the swirling, oppressive darkness. There was a thin film, a bubble of air surrounding him, encapsulating his entire body, about an inch from his skin. He laughed – and didn't inhale water. He waved his arms madly about before him, still unable to get them wet. He saw the weird, scratchy poncho pulsating softly with a blue-green hue, and it suddenly hit him where he had seen it before.

Posiedon's Garden. Herbology club, after the Snargaluff debacle with Holly, they had been examining all the plants in the Greenhouse and Professor Longbottom had pointed this one out especially. Had he… known? Impossible, surely. Wasn't it?

James jerked in fright, flailing about in a vain attempt to jettison himself backwards as a hulking, scowling face appeared immediately before his own.

Beneath the water, the Merman looked much more natural a figure, as if that is what someone ought to look like under the waves. James looked down at his own ungainly hands and feet, feeling suddenly out of place. A long, sleek, steel-grey tail lazily cut back and forth through the water, causing tiny swirls and eddies in the silt-laden depths. Hair that had been a tangle of snarled seaweed was now long and lustrous, fanning out about his head in a muted green flare, writhing on the current as if it were alive. Those big, wide orbs that were his eyes narrowed viciously, and James tried to swim backwards.

'Off,' he growled, mimicking James taking off the scarf.

James was so terrified of the figure, the fact that he understood perfectly ceased to raise so much as a question in his mind. He made to oblige – who was he to argue with this creature – but froze with his fingers hooked beneath the warm silk, recalling Rain's words as clear as if she were screaming them in his ear. Mustering all the courage he possessed, and swearing every oath known to man to take revenge on Hagrid for this, James shook his head.

'On.'

A brief moment of satisfaction for James as shock flitted across the creature's face, before the scowl returned with interest. One hand hovered near the stem of the Lobalug he wore as a weapon, and James' heart rate began to shoot up. The second figure swam over, slicing through the water as if it offered no resistance. Once again James felt his own body was inadequate, well and truly out of his depth.

The second figure wasted no time, drawing his weapon, pointing the tube directly at James' face, one hand hovering on the pulsing, venomous sac at the far end.

'Off, human,' grunted the first Merman. His tone told James that he wasn't going to be offered a second shot at insubordination.

But something deep within him was resisting his urge to obey. Some primal sense of self-preservation was rearing its head, overriding his actions. In a wave of panic he felt himself, instead of reaching up to take off the scarf, darting for his wand.

Before he could even blink, he felt something rock hard connect with his temple, sending dizzying showers of sparks cascading across his vision violently. A jet of inky blackness cut through the muddy water, jetting right towards him. In his dazed state he couldn't seem to get his arms and legs to so much as raise in defence, and the Lobalug venom hit him square in the face, right where his mouth was tucked in behind the scarf.

He went from being unable to feel his extremities, to wishing he couldn't feel them in an instant, as molten fire began to race through his veins, radiating out from his throat and chest, coursing through his system as if his very own heart was pumping it as blood, betraying his failing body. Darkness began to creep in, tunnelling his vision, blurring shapes and colours, melding them into one murky, muddy mess. He was vaguely aware of the venom coursing around in his air sac created by the Poseidon's Garden plant, the more he jerked and writhed in pain, the more the venom washed over his body, painting him in colours of carmine agony.

Out of the darkness he heard a third voice, more feminine, certainly more commanding. It cut through the fugue that was enveloping him, hissing and grating, righteous in its assured fury.

'Charal, you sea-slug! What have you done? You've killed it! This was to be a gift to me, me! We were to converse!'

A figure appeared before James, gripping him firmly, steadying his jerking limbs, whispering in a soft, soothing voice that sounded as the waves on the sea shore, slowly lapping away at his pain, undercutting the agony that so desperately embraced him.

'See who it is! You stagnant fool! This is the spawn of Harry Potter. Father described his likeness to me. What have you done?! You may well have killed us all.'

'See what he carried,' grunted the Merman who must have been Charal. 'That magic, that taint. It is them. They are coming. You know, your treasured father knows, and still he does nothing. Now a human comes, bearing their mark, their sickly, cloying magic and you wish to embrace him? It is too late; I am glad he is dead.'

James certainly didn't feel dead. He twitched once more in the grip of his saviour – his saviour? Perhaps. She hissed vehemently at the two Mermen, gesturing sharply with one hand. Blurry, hazy edges began to pick out her figure as James' vision slowly crept back to him. Long, pale green-grey hair framing a very feminine face, too streamlined, too angular and narrow to be entirely human. Teeth bared in what must have been a smile, a row of tiny, needle-like fangs glinted out at him. Hundreds of shell necklaces were her only clothing, hanging from her neck, doing little to conceal her modesty. A single word floated to the surface, drawn forth to the forefront of his consciousness.

'Kjalsettr.'

He saw a moment of shock paint her features, which subsequently softened into a warm smile. Before she could open her mouth, James heard a snarl from somewhere behind him and something punched him hard in the small of the back. He gasped, his lungs unable to function as total blackness unfurled her midnight wings and swooped down upon him.