James arrived for his detention with Professor Meadows on the Wednesday following his Stinger-to-the-Bottom incident, ready to be handed some gruelling manual labour, or write six million lines. It wasn't often that a first year shot a teacher with an errant spell and lived to tell the tale, after all.

Instead he was told to sit down opposite Professor Meadows at her desk and wait, while she marked their essays. He fidgeted with his buttons, and shifted about uncomfortably as the minutes stretched on.

The Professor would move her lips slightly as she read the text, and every so often her nose would crinkle as she read something that was outright funny, or perhaps an answer that was so terribly wrong that it was amusing. Her short, brilliant-blonde hair hung down around her face, and would often touch the parchment as she leant in to write comments in the margins of the paper she was marking.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only about thirty minutes, she put her quill aside and leaned back in her chair, studying James intently. He squirmed a little harder under her scrutiny.

'So,' she eventually asked, 'have you heard much from Teddy lately?'

James paused at the strange topic of conversation. Why would she want to know what Teddy was up to?

'It's ok; we're friends, he and I. We were at Auror training school together before…' she gestured forlornly to her leg. 'I haven't heard from him in a while. Is he… is he still dating your cousin?'

'Oh,' said James; he was quickly realising that witty repartee was not his strong suit, 'he er… no, he isn't. They had a big fight over summer and broke up, I think. Well, they never show up to family occasions together anymore, so I guess that's broken up, right?'

'Yes,' she replied, 'that sounds like it to me. Poor Teddy, that's terrible.' Her smile hinted that maybe she thought otherwise.

James shrugged; Teddy had seemed to move on just fine. He had a flat in the city, and Harry was keeping him very busy with Junior Auror postings. He had hardly seen Teddy over the summer.

The conversation lulled. James flicked his eyes to the door, wondering when he would be allowed to leave. This didn't seem like much of a detention; he had expected it to be a nightmare, like his one earlier in the year where Professor Ellfrick had him cleaning the potions classroom with a toothbrush. He supposed that this was less arduous, if considerably more awkward.

He noticed Zoe – Professor Meadows – building up to say something. It was hard to think of someone who looked younger than many of the students, and still retained many of their mannerisms as a Professor. She reminded him more of an older Dominique than one of his teachers.

The teacher in question was currently twirling a lock of bright blonde hair around a pink-lacquered nail. She leaned towards James and when she spoke her voice was halting, uncertain.

'Does he ever mention me at all?'

Oh dear. James knew what that question meant. He had heard it in those muggle movies that Lily loved to watch. It was a relationship question. If James knew one thing, it was that he knew absolutely nothing about relationships. Did Zoe want one with Teddy? He almost gasped aloud; were they already in one? Was that why Teddy had broken up with Victoire?

'Er…' James knew that if he told the truth, that no, Teddy had never specifically mentioned a Zoe Meadows to any of the family that he could recall, then the professor would be terribly upset, and likely spend a lot of time eating chocolate and ice cream. If he lied and said yes, then they would be in a relationship. Or at least that's how it worked in Lily's movies.

Zoe was looking across at him expectantly, one hand frozen amidst her hair, her lips parted slightly.

'Yea, sure he does, all the time.'

What had he done?

Zoe closed her eyes momentarily and let out a long, slow breath. A smile was writ plainly across her face, a healthy flush colouring her cheeks.

For the first time James saw her shed her mask of despondency, and she looked like she had hope, that there was happiness to be found for her. For a brief moment, James couldn't find a single part of himself that said he had done the wrong thing.

When she opened her eyes again they were alive, reflecting glimmers of golden lamplight as if they were aflame.

'That's all James,' she sighed, 'your detention is over. Run along back to bed before curfew, and thank you James. I mean it.'

They both stood up and James returned her glowing smile as best he could, before turning and practically fleeing towards the door. He nearly made it before she called him back.

'Oh, James, has Teddy mentioned what he will be doing for the Christmas holidays?'

Internally, James groaned.

'He er… he mentioned that he would be coming here, to the castle, for the Auror training sessions on the eighth floor.'

Her jaw dropped and glossy lips formed a perfect 'O' shape.

James turned and ran before things really got out of hand.

The following weekend was a Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match. The Gryffindor team were required to attend, but those on the practice squad were exempt, and so James found himself in a nearly-deserted Gryffindor common room on Saturday morning, surrounded by F.A.R.T members from all four houses. They were in the midst of somewhat of a crisis meeting, called by Clip and Cassie in order to assess the damage of the recent attack on R.U.S.T.

James sat in the centre of the largest couch, with Clip on his left and Cassie, who had professed no real interest in Quidditch whatsoever and thus forgone watching her house team play, on his right. The rest of the students were draped across furniture or simply sprawled out on the floor in front of them. Cat was rolling back and forth across a plush rug, playing with a tiny mouse that she had produced from somewhere. Rain was absent, Cassie said she hadn't got out of bed all day. Freddy was sitting at the back of the group, tossing a ball into his bag, which was proceeding to burp it back out at him every time. James shuddered, he hoped the day would never come when he had to reach into that bag for any reason.

Cassie was taking notes on a sheet of parchment attached to a clipboard, of all the teams who had lost their R.U.S.T sponsors. It was as Holly had predicted, many of the older students had indeed disbanded at the threat of danger from Silk and Deep-Voice. Less than a third of the original groups were still active, if Cassie's list was anything to go by.

There had been no further attacks throughout the week, but the air was thick with tension in the corridors, many students were walking around with their wands out, and almost all were travelling in groups. Unease was permeating the entire castle, and James couldn't shake the feeling that it was about to boil over.

'So six teams remain with active R.U.S.T sponsors,' Cassie was saying to the group at large, 'those teams belong to James Potter, Clip Wallace, Fred Weasley, Emry Sameer, Kattala Lovegood, and Preston Lynch.

'At this stage we must assume that there will be no help given to teams outside of those six, until such time that this altercation is resolved.'

That was met by a round of grumbles from the teams not listed. Many of them had been very much in the running to win F.A.R.T and get a shot at the Mystery Grand Prize. Most of them were ahead of James' team.

'At this stage, what we know is this,' Clip continued, speaking over the unhappy mutterings, 'the people who attacked those four students were the ones in charge of the Hogwarts gambling racket. They control all the betting on Quidditch, the Sorting Ceremony, everything. They don't like R.U.S.T interfering with F.A.R.T club, because they think it encroaches on their territory, and it messes with the results, if one team has a secret plan that their R.U.S.T sponsors provide them with and they win, the people who bet on that team make a lot of money, which the bookkeepers don't like at all. They see R.U.S.T as basically a corruption, it is match-fixing using a loophole in the rules, but it isn't their corruption, or their match-fixing, and so they won't stand for it.'

'So what can we do?' Gemma Lewis piped up. 'Should we tell the teachers? They will catch them, won't they? I kind of liked F.A.R.T club the way it was before.'

There were murmurs of assent from the gathered students, and several heads nodded.

'Nothing has changed regarding F.A.R.T club,' Cassie replied, 'it's still the same, you simply no longer have older students handing out answers, you have to work it out on your own, the way it was meant to be.'

'That's easy for you to say, you still have your sponsors. It's not fair now, we should all get some. I think you should share your secrets with all of us!'

James had hoped it wouldn't come to this, as all the gathered first-years instantly fired up in a great raucous clamour; those from teams with a sponsor defiantly defending their privilege, while those without railing against this cruel twist of fate.

'Guys, stop, STOP!' James shouted. Voices died down; he stood up from where he was seated, and began pacing among the group. 'You're going about this all wrong, don't you see? These guys, whoever they are, they are the real enemy, not each other. Look at the older students, look at R.U.S.T, are they sitting around a common room bickering right now? I don't think so, I bet they are out there planning on how to take these guys down. We should be doing the same, sitting here working together. The most important thing isn't who wins F.A.R.T, it is working as a team, to keep everyone safe, and have fun.

'If any of you want to quit F.A.R.T that is fine, no one will care or think you are a coward. These are scary times now, and we have somehow been caught up in the middle of a fight that is much bigger than us, so if we have any chance of coming out of it unharmed, we need to band together, and co-operate.'

'If you're so keen on working together Potter, then tell us what your R.U.S.T team has been working on, we all know that that lot that got attacked were your sponsors!'

James spun to face the source of that voice, of course it would be Preston Lynch.

'That's not what I meant–' James began.

'Of course it isn't. You won't give up your precious secrets, but you try and make us do the same? That would be just like you, Potter. You strut in here thinking that the rules are different for you, because your father was famous. Thinking you are better than all of us. Trying to give us a big rousing speech to fight off the scary men, like you are King of the First-Years. Is that what you want? I bet that's what you think you are, isn't it? Lord Potter, better than all the other first-years.'

James, who had ceased his pacing, and was standing atop an armchair looking down at the rest of the students, suddenly realised that that was exactly what it looked like he was doing. To make matters worse, there were more than a few nods at Preston's outburst, and a few angry faces turned his way.

'You shut your big mouth, Preston Lynch!' Cat snapped from where she was lying. 'James is trying to be our friend, not a stupid King. I bet that's what you would want, isn't it?'

'Keep quiet, you stupid, blonde–'

BANG!

Preston Lynch went flying backwards to land in a heap atop a group of Hufflepuffs who were squished onto another of the couches.

James looked around to find the source, and saw Freddy with his wand levelled, a curl of smoke dancing up out of the tip.

By the time he looked back to Lynch all hell had broken loose.

Scores of first-years who had been getting progressively more angry and scared throughout the course of the meeting, now had an output for their emotions, and they joined in with a reckless zeal.

Wands were drawn on all sides, and spells were flying through the air in every direction. House-mate shot down house-mate, friend against friend, there was no method to their madness for it was fuelled by fear, and so was a beast untamed.

James whipped out his own wand, and had to duck a jet of purple light coming right for him. The air was crackling with magic, he was simply trying to stay out of the way, he had no intention of adding to the chaos. He searched for his friends, he saw Freddy launch a full-body tackle at Preston Lynch, and they tumbled out of sight behind a couch. Cat was cornered by the fireplace by two wild-looking Hufflepuffs, who were shooting anything and everything out of their wands, and were probably the source of a lot of the madness.

He made to jump down from where he stood on his chair and help, but a spell hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled backwards, tripping over the back of the chair and falling down behind it, wedged fast. He tried to wiggle out, but a strange feeling was radiating outwards from where the spell had hit. He gave a laugh – he couldn't help himself, it was a funny feeling – and before he knew it his whole world was consumed by an enveloping assault on his senses, as the helplessness of the Tickling Charm overtook any hope of escape.

All thoughts of the fighting abandoned, James Potter laughed the battle away like a buffoon, wedged upside-down behind an armchair.

Hardly the act of a would-be King.

Some time later he felt a tug on his feet, and he emerged, very red-faced, and still suffering from the occasional burst of hysterics, from behind the chair. Fred held him down while Clip cast the counter-charm. The sensation drained out of his body, and he took a deep, calming breath.

The common room looked every part a battle zone, and likewise his friends looked as if they had been on the front lines.

Fred was sporting an impressive black eye, and a trickle of blood was flowing from his nose. Clip was naked from the waist up, with several scorch marks decorating the waist of his trousers. Someone had tied Cat to a table leg by her hair, and she was weeping softly as Cassie attempted to undo the horrendous knot.

James held his head in his hands, defeated. This was supposed to have been a meeting to bring them all together, to get them to protect each other and work against Silk and Deep-Voice. Instead they found themselves wrapped up in petty bickering and jealous guarding of secrets. Who knew what the outcome of this disastrous meeting was going to be. One thing, however, was certain.

The poison of F.A.R.T club had sent its roots yet deeper.

After the high-energy excitement earlier in the month, the rest of October faded with nary a protest, and made way for Halloween. James, together with his friends, had tried repeatedly in vain to bring the first-years back together, but the damage had been done, and the wounds, quite literally, were still too raw.

They travelled in packs now, all of them. James never went anywhere without at least Fred and Clip by his side. He had even put on hold his exploring at nights, as he knew that he presented too easy a target. Rival F.A.R.T teams refused to help each other in classes, or openly sabotaged each other's work. The resultant house point loss due to their lack of co-operation in classes was felt across the board, with everyone losing over a hundred within the first week. Tensions ran high within the houses themselves, as Victoire had sat down all of Gryffindor on that Sunday morning and given them a fiery talking-to about acting like children.

For all her passion, James didn't think that it had sunk in at all.

So it was on Halloween when James found himself seated at one end of the Gryffindor table, surrounded closely by his friends. They had called Cassie over from the Ravenclaw table to join them. Rain, who despite their numerous arguments, was still usually attached to Cassie by the hip, but had not made it out of bed yet again today, and so she had no protection at her own table. Very few people would dare hassle Cassie with Rain around.

The group ate their fill and more, chatting happily among themselves for all the world as if there wasn't a vicious Hogwarts turf war hanging over their heads. Fred had managed to levitate a carved pumpkin onto his head, and was trying to charm the mouth to move when he talked. Cat thought this was the most hilarious thing ever, and was currently doubled over in James' lap, wracked by fits of laughter. Cassie was doing a lot of eye-rolling, but whenever she thought nobody was looking James caught her smile. He revelled in the happy simplicity of the moment, for this was what his year should have been like from the very beginning.

Eventually, after Fred manage to implode his pumpkin, covering himself in orange goo, the group decided that it was time for bed. James waddled off, arm in arm for support with Cat and Clip, who had also eaten far too much. As they lingered at the base of the Grand Staircase, contemplating the obstacle as one might a mountain, or a cliff face, James heard a voice call his name.

'James, Cassie, over here!'

It was Holly, she was standing with Tristan MacMillan near the stairway down to the dungeons. James' heart sunk, he had a good feeling that he knew where this was heading, and wasn't sure that he was in the right state to be dealing with it right now.

'Guess we'll see you guys later,' James mumbled to the others, as he struggled over to where Holly and Tristan were standing.

Holly ushered them down the stairs towards the dungeons. James shot a quizzical look at Tristan, but he simply shrugged. Cassie was groaning softly and rubbing at her stomach.

They turned down a side corridor that was clearly not well-frequented. Only one torch in three was lit, and there were signs of damp on the walls. No portraits nor vases in sconces decorated this passageway, and dim light flickered in time with a steady drip of water from somewhere nearby.

Holly led them to a concealed door, which James would have taken for another innocuous part of wall if it hadn't been pointed out. Though, in his defence he was hardly in a state of heightened alert. Heightened dessert, Fred might have said. James would have proceeded to smack him.

The door slid aside at Holly's coded knock, to reveal an equally dingy room behind. It appeared to be a disused store cupboard, and barely provided enough room for the eight of them that were now jammed in. Mouldy shelves lined the wall, in some places entirely collapsed where the wood had given way to the damp. A single lantern swung precariously from a rope in their midst.

One of the four figures who were already in the room nodded to the others, and the two largest shuffled out around them to stand out in the corridor, presumably guarding the exit. A wise choice to pick those two, James mused. The space seemed much less confined in their absence.

'Welcome,' said one of the two remaining figures. This voice belonged to the shorter of the pair, the male. He was wiry slim, with close-cropped dark hair and a flighty look in his eye. From what Holly had said earlier in the week, this was Shade. He flicked his wand and five rickety stools appeared. James took one gratefully, and eased himself into a position that provided his bloated stomach the least amount of discomfort.

'Many refer to me as Shade, but my name is Nero. This is Wren.'

Huh, James thought. He had figured someone with the pseudonym "The Enchantress" would have a real name a little more intimidating.

Nero leaned back in his chair until only his eyes glinted out menacingly from the darkness, and Wren stood up to speak. She had strong, high cheekbones, with dark hair and brows. Her almond eyes were alive in the lamplight, and their fierce gaze held James' breath caught in his chest.

'You are obviously aware of the attack on our persons this week past, and the obvious implications that it carries. There are people who do not want us to do what we are about to do, and those people will go to great lengths to enforce their will upon us.

'I speak of course, of the Lenders. The Capitalist, would-be Oligarchs who have spent the past seven years worming their way into our pockets and our coin purses. They are widely known as bookkeepers, gambling agents, and loan sharks. Hence the name, Lenders. What is less publicised, is the depth that their rotten roots truly extend into the foundation of the Hogwarts student body.

'They are the heads of every illicit activity that occurs within the castle walls. You want a batch of Firewhiskey smuggled in from Hogsmeade? You pay a little extra money and you go through a Lender. Forgot to do that important assignment due tomorrow? You pay a little money and go through a Lender. Need to teach another student a lesson, but don't want the whodunit getting back to you? You get the picture. They own it all, run it all. They take money, invest it, and pay the students out dividends. They have set up an entire Morgana-cursed bank inside of Hogwarts, something to rival even Gringotts.

'As you know, we have invoked their ire by interfering with F.A.R.T and trying to take our fortunes into our own hands. Evidently their particular breed of Capitalism is not of the free-market variety. That is all you need to know of the "why". As for the "how", well they have recently moved against us in a big way, mostly things behind the scenes, things that you wouldn't notice from the outside. They have frozen all of our liquid assets, and threatened us with their disappearance should we not co-operate. This was the biggest reason for the majority of the R.U.S.T teams disbanding, people become very easy to manipulate when you have your hands on their… money.'

James let out a long, low whistle. Wren was using a lot of words that he didn't really understand. That very likely meant that this was a much bigger problem than anyone had anticipated.

'None of this is your concern, however,' Nero sat up straight and continued the dialogue. Wren leaned back on the shelves and studied them all in ominous silence. 'That is our fight, and rest assured that we are fighting it. We ask only one thing of you, and that is that you convince the first-years to look out for each other. This fighting is fast spiralling outside of anyone's control, and you are the easiest targets, the most likely to get hurt. It is imperative that you work together, for it has become more than just this competition now, and if you can't put aside your rivalries to fight it, then there is little chance that you make it out the other side unscathed.'

James swallowed, hard. He looked over at Cassie, she looked equally ill. Some of that was likely from the feast, but he thought he could safely assume that she was thinking along the same lines as he was; he had gone a long way in achieving the exact opposite the week before, with his speech at the Crisis Meeting in the Gryffindor common room. Would he be able to rebuild the bridges that had been burned that day? There was really little option, the way these two were talking.

'You are the most public face of this war, Potter. If the school sees the first-years, and F.A.R.T flourishing, then all will be well. If they see infighting and dissent, then the vultures will swoop, and we can guarantee nobody's safety. See that you tend to this matter, Potter. It will have a big impact in the days to come.'

James nodded mutely, feeling incredibly out of his depth. He was very much looking forward to getting up into bed by now, and hiding from all of this mayhem for a few, short hours. He supposed a hug wouldn't go awry either, at this point.

'First thing,' Wren took over, 'is to look after your money. The Lenders have a code; they will never steal so much as a Knut, so they have some values, at least. But do not give your money to anyone. Even if they offer to hold your coin purse for a moment, in their eyes that money is now theirs, and you will not get it back.

'The ringleaders only ever appear as two people, both apparently male, but they have agents everywhere, in all year groups. We don't yet know how many students they have working for them, or even if they have any agents within R.U.S.T, so until we do, be sparing with your trust. Most importantly, never speak of the content of our meetings to anyone outside of this room. Am I understood?'

The four first-years nodded together, all wishing that they could be anywhere else but the centre of a blossoming flower of war.

'Finally, we come to the real reason that we gathered you here this evening.' Wren smiled at this point, as she drew a carefully folded sheet of parchment from a compartment within her robes.

Nero waved his wand again and a small table appeared in the centre of the room, pushing them up uncomfortably against the shelves. James wriggled into a better position to get a close look at what she was about to show them. This was surely it, the project that had brought down the full wrath of the Lenders. He was about to see something worth starting a war over, he was about to be in possession of that very object.

He shuddered involuntarily.

With careful, loving motions, Wren smoothed the parchment out on the table in front of them. She pressed down folds, and spread out the edges so it lay almost perfectly flat. She drew an elegant, intricately carved, pale wand from within her robes and pressed it to the sheet.

Like lifeblood flowing through veins, thin spidery lines began to spread outwards from her point of contact. An image came to life before them, as lines became shapes, and shapes became objects. By the time the image was complete, James found himself leaning over the table, holding it in a white-knuckled grip, too nervous to speak, for fear of shattering this surreal moment.

It was a map. No, it was the map.

It had to be, this was exactly the way his father and Uncle Ron had described the Marauder's Map, a complete outline of the castle, every single passage and corridor, labelled in tiny, flowing handwriting. As he watched he saw a stairway shift up on the third floor, allowing entrance to a previously blocked-off corridor. It was beautiful, it was perfect.

Well, not entirely.

'I understand that a map such as this has existed in the past,' began Wren, looking down with a hint of longing at what must have been some of her finest work, 'but all attempts to locate it have so far been unsuccessful. The knowledge that has gone into this has been acquired over both of our almost six years of schooling. This map shows every passage and room that we have knowledge of, and every pattern of moving staircase and shifting corridor has been imprinted in.

'As I am sure you will notice, there are no people marked on this map. To do that would require access to the Heart, which I had been given in a limited capacity, and always under strict supervision. At no time was I ever given the opportunity to access the Heart in that capacity, and add some of its magic to the map.

'We have, however, added a new feature, that may be of use to you especially.'

James was barely comprehending what Wren was saying, this was too surreal. He was about to be given a new and improved version of the Marauder's Map! His mind was spinning into overdrive at the possibilities. F.A.R.T club was now theirs to lose. Suddenly another thought occurred to him.

Was this the reason he felt that he needed to find the Heart, the reason that it called directly to him? Was there some kind of latent magic left over from the bond between the first Map and the Heart that had chosen him to reforge it? Was this map destined to be the James Potter Map of Hogwarts?

He supposed he would have to think of a better name than that.

His attention was drawn back to the events at hand, as Wren was talking again.

'Just tell the map where you want to go, press your wand to it and… there we are, a path will be illuminated.'

James was trying very hard not to squeal in excitement right now. There was no way anyone would have anything even approaching this impressive, that Mystery Grand Prize was theirs already.

Wren took them through the rules for using the map, and stressed that its existence was the highest order of secrets. She showed them how to fold it, and how to banish the image when they had finished using it. James was bouncing in his chair, thoughts of overeating forgotten, ready to take it out exploring that very night, when she came to the last rule of the Map.

'Because of the need for secrecy, we will be keeping the Map with us, hidden securely until the morning of your next F.A.R.T club. If this falls into the Lender's hands, there is no telling what damage they could cause. Understood?'

James felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach, and he sullenly nodded his assent. He supposed he had been a little optimistic in thinking that something as powerful as this would just fall into his lap, no questions asked. Why would the older students just hand it over to them at all? He supposed that they would be asking for it back as soon as F.A.R.T was over as well; it was hardly something to just be given away as a gift. He felt a little silly for his momentary bout of sensationalism.

Their meeting wrapped up quickly after that. James was now well and truly feeling ready for bed, and as they were ushered quickly out the door into the gloomy corridor, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He turned to head back the way he came, when Wren's voice caught him and held him back a moment.

'By the way, Potter, your kindness in desiring to help us when we were… incapacitated has not gone unnoticed.'

He just nodded sleepily and staggered off in the direction of his bed.

November melted away with the last of the mild weather. Harsh winds and dark evenings rolled in, to match the dark moods within the walls. Outright violence was still being held at bay, but students were noticeably snappish, and many a friend group was becoming splintered by the difficult times.

James' attempts to reconcile the first-years had gone no better than the now-infamous Crisis Meeting, and together with Cassie he had all but given up. He was barely able to get Fred and Clip to be civilised when it came to F.A.R.T club rivalries, and the rest of the student body seemed to be spending far too much time giving Preston Lynch their collective ear.

The Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match in the first week of December was fraught with angst and unrest. The ill-will between the two teams had only grown since the first highly controversial victory, and the fact that both teams had won two games apiece since then, meant that it would be a match for first place on the ladder.

James trudged out to the stadium, his head bowed against a frigid northerly, when he saw a scuffle break out outside one of the gates. He and Freddy steered well clear, and made for the Gryffindor changing rooms, but he heard voices floating out over the commotion.

'Get out of here sixth-year, this is Lender territory!'

'Shove off, R.U.S.T Gambling Services pegged this ground while you were busy drooling over those poor fourth-year Ravenclaws, get lost!'

'Just wait till the bosses hear about this, you lot will be the next ones swinging from a tree!'

The voices faded as the wind picked up, and James shook his head. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, he supposed.

The actual match itself was an incredible let-down, especially for the Gryffindor supporters. Not five minutes of the game had passed by when Odette Mansfield swooped in and stole the snitch from beneath Diana Fairbourne's nose, handing Slytherin a one hundred-fifty to ten point win.

The game would have ended there, if Will MacDougal hadn't sent a late bludger straight at Odette, moments after she caught the snitch. Her guard down, she didn't see it coming, and it collected her in the back of the head. The poor second-year girl tumbled lifelessly to the ground fifty feet below, saved by the charms built in to protect students from harm should an event such as this occur.

This started a violent exchange between the Slytherin captain, Spinks, and Ryan O'Flaherty, with Will in the background protesting his innocence. Wands were drawn, and shortly the pitch was flooded with irate students from both houses, joining in on an appalling melee, which, according to Headmistress McGonagall later that evening, had resulted in twenty-three admissions to the Hospital Wing, and seven four-match bans handed out to various players on the teams.

It wasn't only the fact that they had lost that had James in such a dark mood that night at dinner, he was unable to wrap his head around this innate desire to fight, to argue, that pervaded every single year group at Hogwarts. He didn't know if it was the rising tensions as a result of the F.A.R.T club, and the impending turf war that had everyone on edge, or if these were merely convenient proxies for the students to show their true colours while hiding in the anonymity provided by faction that they supported. Whatever it was, it needed fixing before anything more sinister could occur.

As it would happen, he had the opportunity to meet with a pair of the instigators that very next day.

He was making his way along the seventh-floor corridor towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, on a rare instance when he had been travelling alone, when he felt something punch the wind out of him from behind. The next thing he knew he was waking up in an abandoned classroom, with two faces peering down at him, familiar only in the way that they shifted and changed beneath his scrutiny.

'Hello Potter,' Deep-Voice growled. He was the figure on the left, currently the shorter of the two. 'We were hoping to run into you again, before next week's little F.A.R.T meeting. As I'm sure you are aware, we have been rather more active than usual, lately.'

'Indeed,' Silk drawled, stepping up to push his face into James'. 'But that is above your concern, and I digress. We have seen an influx of money still pouring in for you as a hot favourite, Mister Potter. Something is making the students believe in you, I can only assume it is those foolish sixth-years that have been messing around, playing at mentoring you, and trying to oppose us. Word in the corridors is that they are winning, too, but we seldom listen to such mindless chatter.'

The pair of them paused for a second, to both have a quiet chuckle.

'The short of it is this, Potter. You are our number two favourite, behind the skinny Wallace boy, and that girl everyone thinks is Dumbledore reincarnated. Them, we will deal with separately. As for you, we say, ponder this: Should you finish outside of the top three teams in F.A.R.T club tomorrow, say perhaps fourth place, you will by no means be out of the running for the Mystery Grand Prize. As well as this, you will make us considerably wealthier than we currently are, and in times of war, the value of money is irreplaceable.

'Think on this also: We hear that your short friend can't swim, and we would just hate for her to fall into the Great Lake one day, say, right out in the centre with the Giant Squid. Or perhaps the long-haired one, I hear she is terrified of spiders, and we happen to know a picnic spot in a particular forest that she would certainly adore.

'The choice is yours, Potter. Remember, we aren't out here fighting you. There's room enough in this coming war for us on the same side. After all, someone has to take over this empire when we move on.'

James became very familiar with the ceiling above his bed that night, as he did little else but stare at it, the cogs of his mind whirring ceaselessly.