The Gryffindor common room was dark, despite the midday sun blazing outside the Obfuscated windows. Whoever had cast the Charm had done an imperfect job, and needles of light skewered the room at haphazard angles.
Three hooded figures ghosted through the darkness. Their faces were hidden. Their movements were hasty, yet deliberate. Charged with a poised sort of nervousness that manifested most subtly, in jerking motions, shaking fingers, and short, sharp breaths. The mood was tense and tentative. Stretched thin and delicate as a taut spider's web between the three of them.
And it snapped with all the delicacy of a Weasley firework when one of the three banged an elbow upon jutting bedpost and swore out loud.
The package in his hands slipped free from the shock in a mocking sort of slow-motion fall.
'Don't drop that!'
'Too late.'
'Fuck!'
The second of the three dove to the ground. An act more instinct than true thought. When his fingers slipped deftly beneath it, the sigh of relief deflated all three in sudden enervation. The nervous energy dissipated into the mottled darkness like a fading static electricity.
'Thank Merlin for that,' said the first – he who had dropped it.
'Knew you being a Chaser would come in handy,' said the third to the second, who was now pushing himself softly to his feet. The delicate glass felt so fine that even the simple pressure of his fingers would bruise it.
'Knew you being insane would be the death of me eventually,' he shot back, pushing back his hood and running a hand through hair now slicked with sudden sweat.
James Potter glared through the murky darkness at the shadowed hood that still hid the face of Fred Weasley.
'Well, if Clip hadn't nearly dropped it…'
'Well if you hadn't insisted on me wearing this thrice-damned cloak! I swear it's at least thirty-seven sizes too big!' Clip was still rubbing his elbow gingerly, and flexing his fingers.
'You have been inducted into the Brotherhood,' Fred solemnly replied. 'The uniform is our identity. It is who we are.'
A fleeting glimmer was the whites of Clip's eyes flashing as he rolled them dramatically. 'Well, I'd like to see you serve the Brotherhood while wearing a tent. Say, what's in that, anyway?'
'Err… let's just say that if you'd dropped it, Madam Petheridge would have had to be a puzzle master to put the three of us back together.'
James' eyebrows rose. He tried to share a look with Clip through the gloom, but he thought he might have been looking aghast at the bedpost, instead.
'And you're going to put that in Lynch's bed?'
'Relax. I'm going to tweak it. Tune it down a bit. And I was exaggerating.'
James felt a little less anxious as he passed the glassy orb over to Fred.
'Mostly.'
'And we're certain that this is safe?' Clip asked, a hint of nerves undercutting his hushed whisper.
'Of course not! But in the same way that I can't be certain that you'll beat me at Wizard's chess every time, or that Cassie will make that disturbing face when she sniffs a new book. But that doesn't mean it isn't going to happen. Without fail. Mostly'
Clip looked to James for support, but he only shrugged. 'I've found three of Lynch's socks in my bed this week. You said yourself you saw Odin Mills torching those Muggle posters you like. And you don't even want to know what Quentin Knight used Fred's towel for the other day. We have to draw the line somewhere, Clip. They think they run the show in here. We're taking back our dormitory. It ends tonight.'
'Alright,' Clip ceded, holding up his hands defensively. 'I'm not going to call it trust, per se. But I am strongly of the opinion that I have the least experience at being completely bloody insane, and so I shall bow to your collective expertise in the field.'
'That's the spirit,' Fred grinned. 'Now back to your stations. Lunch time will be over soon. We might be missed.'
Clip nodded and pulled up his giant hood. His face was instantly lost in the twisting blackness within. He padded across to his lookout station near the door, wand at the ready.
James, for his part, returned to a constant array of Deodorising and Air-Freshening charms to keep the eye-watering smell of acid and all manner of volatile things under control.
'Pass me the De-Centralizer,' Fred muttered, his eyes and wand focused on the object before him.
'The what?'
'Long sticky thing. Loop at the end. Gives you a shock when you grab it.'
'Lovely.'
James dove in to Fred's infamous satchel bag. He peered dubiously into the unfathomable depths. Somehow it was an even darker shade of darkness in the already shadowy room. He was reasonably certain that something in there roared at him.
'Quick! Close it before she gets out.'
James did as he was told, with vigour.
When the clock struck one, and the boys hurried down through the Gryffindor common room, James was mostly just relieved he was able to do so in one piece. That ought to show Lynch and his cronies for trying to take over the dormitory like they were the only ones living in it.
The sun still shone high and bright that evening, after James had finished his classes. Seeking to take advantage of the opportunity, he shouldered his broom and set off down to the Quidditch Pitch. It was one of the few free evenings he had, not taken up by official practises or his run of never-ending detentions. He sought some time alone to clear his head, shake off the mountain of homework he'd been doled out from Professor Plye in Transfiguration, and most importantly, to think through what they'd seen – and heard – in the forest.
Naturally, he'd filled in Fred and Clip the moment he'd returned, despite Hagrid's insistence that he keep it a secret. Neither of them was about to turn him in to the Ministry, or whoever else was watching them. They both had no idea of any magical creatures that caused such fear from merely the sound of their cry. Especially none that could fly. Neither Hagrid, nor even Cat, with all of her fantastical imaginations, could explain what they might have found. Nor Harry Potter, in all his years of magical exploration and battles against any manner of dark and dangerous creatures.
But then, the Atlanteans had supposedly been little more than a Merfolk myth.
He was pulled forth from his reverie by the sudden realisation that he was no longer alone. A solitary figure stood before him, leaning up against one of the imposing stone pillars that flanked the entrance to the Quidditch pitch. She was resting coolly against the massive granite slabs, and studying one hand of green painted nails. The very picture of casual indifference.
'Took your time. You sure do know how to dawdle, James.'
She wore her hair long and loose, and it fell around her shoulders in artful disarray. In the warm light of the late afternoon, James wasn't sure how he'd ever manage to miss that she'd changed it. Dark, smoky shades were shot through her usual faded blonde, which bathed in the light of the setting sun.
'How did you know I'd be here?' James asked Odette, stepping forward to greet her with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. Even now, he felt a little uncomfortable with the action, and had to shoot a furtive glance around to ensure nobody was looking.
'Well, let's see,' she replied, mock-pensively. 'James has one night of the week free from study, training, or his hundred-and-one detentions. He'd like to relax and unwind. So, where does he go? Not to call upon his breathtakingly charming girlfriend, no-o. It's off to the Quidditch pitch. Again.'
She said it all with a smile on her face that lit up her pale eyes, and transformed her usually-frosty demeanour into something warm and open and all the more special because it was reserved only for him.
'You know me so well, already,' James said, smiling back. And then hastily added. 'Sorry, by the way.'
'Don't apologise, James, it's unbecoming. And besides, I knew what I was signing up for.'
'Oh yeah? And what was that, exactly?'
'A clueless Gryffindor who is only happy if his life's in danger, or he's riding a broomstick. Completely unaware that there's more to life than bad guys and Quidditch.' Odette bit her tongue in a cheeky smile. Her eyes sparkled.
'Well, thank Merlin that the beguiling socialite queen, Mistress of Drama and Scandal and doer-of-deeds-not-uttered-in-polite-conversation is here to lead me astray.'
'So flattering. I might just get a tiara with that stamped upon it. Do you think I could pull it off?'
James had never met anybody so predisposed to such attire.
'I think you could pull off a sack of old potatoes, in the right light.'
Odette's smile took on a different shade of playful, and she leaned in towards James to whisper directly into his ear in a way that sent shivers down his spine and all manner of wild thoughts racing through his mind.
'Only a sack of potatoes?'
Her laughter was bright and musical to James' ears as she pulled away, taking his hand and leading him into the stadium.
When she took him inside the nearest stand instead of out onto the pitch, James shot her a questioning look.
'It's Ravenclaw's day to practice,' she told him.
'Oh, shoot. I'd-'
'Forgot? I know.'
'We'd better leave, then. They'll be starting soon. They won't want us around. What if we accidentally saw some of their moves?'
'Oh, James. You sweet, naïve boy. You are such a Gryffindor.'
'Why does everyone always say that like it's a bad thing?'
Odette stopped to face him, cupping one cheek and gazing into his eyes with what could only be described as pity.
'James, you have so much to learn. Starting with the playbook for Ravenclaw's upcoming match against us.'
Odette gestured towards the stairwell leading up to the highest section of the stands. She held out an arm for James to loop through his own.
'No way! That's cheating.'
'James, my oblivious flower petal, if there's any tradition as old as Quidditch at this school, it is spying on opposing Quidditch teams. Everybody does it. Ava Adams will be up there somewhere, taking notes for Hufflepuff as we speak. The only ones who don't are the poor, noble Gryffindors. Too clueless and honourable to consider such sacrilege.'
'I- we…' James struggled to form words.
Odette placed one foot on the bottom step, her hand still held out for James. Despite reservations aplenty marching through his mind one after the other, he reached out and took it. Odette's knowing, private smile won him over. And the way she'd whispered in his ear still had his mind spinning off to the realms of scandalous possibility.
'Odette Mansfield,' he announced. 'I do believe you'll be my ruin.'
'Oh, James,' she purred. 'You don't even know the half of it.'
Much later that evening saw James fast asleep at a table in a quiet corner of the library, still burdened by the sins of what he and Odette had done in the stands whilst Ravenclaw practiced. Both moral and those more… physical in nature.
He was stirred to life the moment his solitude was taken from him. It took his eyes a moment to focus on the one who sat down opposite.
'I'm glad to see you're finally beginning to take your studies seriously, James.'
'Uh, wha-?' he looked up and squinted at the newcomer. A small trail of drool had caused a sheet of parchment to stick to one side of his face.
Cassandra Featherstone gave a most deflated sigh, and slumped down in to the chair opposite. 'I should have known.'
'What brings you here, stranger? You've been avoiding us, lately.' James unstuck the parchment and shuffled a few of the papers around before him to look busy, with no real intention of working on them. He was well past the stage of plotting anything to do with Jupiter's moons, or Saturn's orbit at this stage of the night.
Cassie set about removing three very large books from the very small leather satchel bag that she carried. The third one kicked up a small puff of dust as it thumped down onto the table. Cassie had almost disappeared behind the stack of them.
'I've been doing no such thing, James. I've just been… busy.'
The answer didn't satisfy him in the least. He scooted forward, shoving two of her books aside and poking his head across the table between them. 'And how is Clip?'
She promptly jammed the books back together, squishing James' ears quite painfully in the process.
'I told you at the time, and I will tell you again: our attendance at the Ball together was simply a union of convenience. Nothing more.'
'A union… sounds official,' James winked, still rubbing his ears.
'James Potter, if all you are going to do is offer immature comments on my social life, then please, I beg of you, leave me alone.'
There was no real heat in Cassie's words. Her shoulders were slumped forward and her eyes downcast. And if she was asking nicely…
'What's wrong, Cassie?' James asked earnestly.
'N-nothing.'
But James caught the moment of hesitation. And as he peered closer, he saw the glimmer of a tear in the corner of her eye, the moment before she spun away from him with a book in hand. She refused to look back as she searched for its place on the shelf. James heard her muffled sigh of frustration as she couldn't quite reach up to the spot where it fit.
Unspeaking, James pushed himself up and walked around the table to where she stood, still straining on tip-toes, pointedly ignoring his presence.
He reached out and, instead of taking the book from her, he slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her bodily up to the shelf, despite her exclamation of shock, and her subsequent protests.
Back on solid ground, she spun to face him, hands planted firmly on hips and a stern expression slapped over her still-watery eyes. James couldn't hide his own smile as she glared. Eventually, he saw it. The tiniest crack in her resolution – a slight quirk upwards on one corner of her mouth, and she had to look away once more.
'I am not amused, James Potter.' Her tone said otherwise.
'I swear I've seen first years taller than you.'
'You have not!' she said, aghast.
James shrugged, and pointed to the table once more. 'Talk to me, Cassie.'
They sat down opposite one another at the table. James waited patiently as Cassie opened and closed her mouth a few times, fidgeted with a button on her blouse, and twiddled with the ribboned bookmark from one of her books. Finally, with a deep breath that swelled her diminutive chest, she spoke.
'I'm alone, James. She's gone.' There was no need to ask who she was. 'When I started here, at Hogwarts, I didn't know a single person. I felt so scared and alone. Nobody wanted to sit next to her at the house table, after she was sorted. People were already whispering that she was a freak. That there was something wrong with her. But I thought that she just looked how I felt. Isolated, lost. The smile she gave me when I slid aside for her is something I'll always remember.
'And when the other girls in our house would ignore us, or call us names behind our back, she'd tell me she could leave, if I wanted. That I didn't have to be friends with her. That she was bringing me down. But I never would.
'She was the one who convinced me, you know. To give you a second chance, after everything that happened in first year. She saw something in you. She always said that the two of you would do great things together. That the world was shaping up to build itself around you, and that was right, because your heart was pure. I didn't know what it meant; I still don't, but I believed her.
'And I always believed her. When she told me they'd stop talking about us soon. Or yes, I'd learn that spell, or pass that test. Every time I doubted myself, she was always there. And knew just what to say.
'But now she's gone. Gone without even a note or a goodbye. She's vanished, and I don't know where she's gone, or what she's doing, or if she's even safe. And now you and the others are running through the Forest doing Merlin-knows-what, and I'm here by myself, alone again. Only this time, she's not there to tell me it's going to be alright.'
Cassie exhaled as she finished talking. She lay her hands flat on the table. Her nails were short and jagged, chewed right down. A nervous habit of hers. A strand of her short, brown hair fell to hide her eyes, though she wasn't crying. James could hear the ache in her voice, and felt an idiot for not thinking about her sooner.
'Shoot, Cassie. I hadn't thought you'd have wanted to join. I'm sorry. Fred and Clip aren't coming with us. You could help them, if you wanted to be involved. Fred's said he'd provide us with some extra firepower next time we go. And Clip is researching magical creatures. I'm sure he could use an extra pair of eyes.'
Cassie gave a little hiccough – halfway between a sob and laughter. She looked up at him from behind her books and there was the barest light of mirth in her hazel eyes.
'James, you have clearly not seen Clip Wallace engage in what he calls research. Books everywhere, no semblance of order, pages folded over. Writing in margins!' Here Cassie had to pause to place hand to breast, in a picture of pure indignation. 'The boy utterly fails to comprehend the gravity of the sacred act of research and study. He is, dare I say it, a heretic.'
James reached across the table and took both of Cassie's tiny hands in his own. There was the Cassie he'd been missing.
As he moved, though, he felt something hard press against his hip, something he kept stashed in the pocket of his jeans. Of course.
'That's it!' James roared, thrusting all four of their hands high in the air, and pulling Cassie bodily form her chair in the process. 'Oops, sorry.'
He fished in his pocket and retrieved the amulet, placing it reverently on the table between them. Quiet since that evening outside Professor Meadows' office, he carried it everywhere nonetheless. It was his only, tenuous link to Rain. His only clue to bringing her back.
And Cassie was the perfect one to help him.
'May I?' she whispered, tentatively reaching out towards the locket. The sapphire glowed a deep and ominous blue between them. The light in the stone seemed bottomless.
James nodded his acquiescence.
'This is it,' Cassie breathed. 'Her amulet. She always had this. Always. Sometimes, she'd wake up screaming in the night, trying to tear it free. I'd have to hold her down and keep it on, whispering to her. It was the one time when I got to tell her that everything was going to be alright.
'James, she needs this. Without this, she'll get sick again. Without this, she might die.'
'I know. Which is what makes me think she hasn't just moved away for her health, or transferred schools. Or whatever they're trying to tell us. It's what makes me think something's happened to her. And I have the feeling that sometimes, it's trying to tell me something. Like it might be our only clue to getting her back.'
Cassie pushed herself upright suddenly, her gaze hot and bright and determined, fixing on James' own with a fire that hadn't existed a half hour ago.
'Then we're going to use it to get her back. Even if it kills us, James, we're going to save Rain.'
James stood as well, and nodded. He slipped the chain of the locket over his head, and tucked it beneath his chest. The crystal was cool and hard and heavy against his breastbone. He would wear it now, as a symbol of his renewed commitment. He would wear it until the day came when he could give it back to her in person. Relief and excitement washed over him. Finally, an opportunity to do something about getting her back.
Cassie decided she was far too excited to study, and chose instead to turn in for the night, as she told James she did some of her best thinking while staring at the ceiling above her bed.
'Walk up together?' she asked him, packing the last of many books back into her bag.
James checked his watch before answering, and held up one anticipatory finger.
Boom!
A wall-shaking explosion sounded from high above them, rather suspiciously in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. A little rain of dust cascaded down from the roof overhead.
'Yes, let's.'
'Dare I ask?'
'I wouldn't if I were you, Cassandra. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.'
