Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warnings: Nah. :)

AN: Once again, thank you very much for reading. Further thanks go out to people pointing out mistakes - quite some embarrassing ones among them. I shall take note of this for future chapters, and probably also get around to fixing these in the previous chapters (maybe in late February? Time is currently a bit sparse). That said, thank you for reading and leaving feedback! It's like sunshine - which is fantastic considering I haven't seen the sun since Christmas. ^_~

Reviews: Thank you guys for reviewing! And as promised, here's replies to chapter 8&9!

Saramagican: Thank you for reading! Harry did manage to do something, but it will have some consequences. And while there won't be much Severus/James interaction in this chapter, they both get a bit more screentime.

Galgalatz: Thank you for reading! And indeed, James' fall is not harmless.

afhirfearness0423: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the plot - it's supposed to last for quite some time, so currently I'm rather introducing new strings instead of wrapping them up - and there are still some things not yet introduced. ^^

kittyhawk09: Thank you very much for reading! I'm glad the scene worked - I find action scenes a bit difficult to write, though I do love reading them. :)

esky7: Thank you very much for reading! Concerning pairings - I haven't made an ultimate decision yet, but I share your view on Severus/Lily. And as for Tom's actions ... uhm, I have been intentionally misleading people here. ^_~

compasspointstars: Thank you very much for reading! I do hope the plot lives up to your expectations! ^_^

ashtree22: Thank you for reading! I haven't actually made Tom's motives clear, since there's a bit of a plotline here that hasn't fully emerged yet (there's a hint in the first chapter) - but well, there's rationale for him being in the Department of Mysteries.

Hwyla: Thank you for reading! You picked up a number of fine points - and some things I just haven't really gotten around to explaining yet. Which shall be remedied in the future. :) As for teenage James, I thought it would be nice if he got a chance to see what his actions caused - and got another chance to change it all.

neesie-pie: Thank you for reading! The ending, actually, is quite a way off, and I haven't decided on pairings yet. And with the protagonists being as young as they are, romance is still some chapters away.

Movements in the Water

It was a movement Peter barely caught, out over the lake. Only in the corner of his eye – it may have been a trick of the light. Then he heard a splash and spied the empty broom hovering in the air.

"James?" he shouted – it came out as a whisper.

The broom began its slow descent, now that it had lost its rider. Peter, too, felt like falling. He had seen James head out over the lake, had seen him circle there, secure and comfortable on his broom.

How …?

Bubbles on the lake's surface.

"JAMES!" he screamed.

"Did you hear?" asked Darius Rowley, a second-year Slytherin, excitedly, "James Potter fell off his broom!"

Classes had ended a good while ago, and most students had withdrawn to the common room to do their homework – or alternatively, discuss the nearing Christmas break. Chuckling echoed through the room at Darius' enthusiastic statement.

Severus kept his eyes fixed on the Potion's journal in front of him, even though Evan Rosier and William Wilkes chuckled at the image. He had completed his homework a while ago – and was staying mainly so that William and Evan could use his essay for reference.

"Dropped straight into the lake I heard," added somebody else, "I wish I had seen that."

"Pity he didn't drown," said Mulciber from his corner of the room with a shrug. Severus pressed his lips together. It had been a closer thing than Mulciber or anybody in this room realized.

"Yeah, and apparently one of our own helped that," added Bellatrix, her voice light, yet threatening, "Didn't they, Snape?"

He flinched as he felt all eyes turn to him – and if the ground decided to spontaneously open up and swallow him right now, he wouldn't really mind. It didn't, so he elected to say nothing and shrug. Bellatrix Black had proven in the last months to be particularly unforgiving – to the point that she had loudly declared she would never consider a half-blood adequate company – though he had the feeling she hadn't liked him even before that.

"Though I do believe it was your cousin who actually pulled Potter out of the lake, wasn't it?" asked Natalia Zabini, smiling sweetly at Bellatrix.

A badly suppressed groan echoed from a dark corner of the room – the Black-Zabini feud had reached almost legendary proportions during the term, much to the grief of all involuntarily involved.

Bellatrix grimaced, before catching herself and smoothing out a stray lock of hair. "Did he?" she asked rhetorically, "Why, that might just be reason enough to finally disinherit him."

Natalia raised a well-shaped eyebrow in response. "Disinherit an eleven-year old. Is it only me who thinks this is not only harsh but actually barbaric? No offense to you, Cissy."

Narcissa, sitting on the far end of a couch buried behind a book only waved in response. Lucius Malfoy, sitting next to her, was visibly less entertained by his Transfiguration textbook.

"It's only consequent," replied Bellatrix, "And Sirius is old enough to know right from wrong – it's necessary."

Her expression, Severus found, was oddly determined. Natalia meanwhile shrugged. "Well, if you're so hard pressed for it, be my guest. But don't be surprised if people start to wonder just why you're so anxious to see even more members of your family disinherited. You know, one might think your resources… ah, whatever."

"I will have you know that…" started Bellatrix, and Severus heard Evan sigh loudly. A subtle wave of movement grasped the room, with people spontaneously deciding that they had done enough studying for the day, the library was a nicer place, or that now was the perfect time for a walk or a nap.

"Let's take a break?" suggested William.

Evan and Severus instantly agreed.

When James woke, his limbs were numb and heavy, but he was resting on something soft. His sluggish mind had a moment to recognize the familiar ceiling of the Hospital Wing, then a voice exclaimed "James!" and a blurry shape came into view.

"Mum?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, I'm here. How are you?" she sounded upset.

James wanted to sit up, but his body wouldn't agree. His vision cleared however, and he could see his mother's worried expression.

"Okay," he said belatedly since he couldn't quite feel any pain.

She sighed. "Well, that's good, then. Madame Pomfrey said you may feel off for a little while, but should be fine in time for Christmas."

"That's good," he muttered. His entire body felt sore – unsurprisingly, since the last thing he recalled was hitting the water while under a spell.

She leaned forward and took his hand. "Just don't worry and concentrate on getting healthy again. How are you feeling? Do I need to get you anything? A glass of water?"

James weakly shook his head. He had had enough of water for a lifetime – his throat was still burning, and he barely dared to take a deep breath for the latent ache in his chest. There was deep ache in his arm, too, and not a muscle that was not sore.

"If you want to, sleep some more," his mother advised. There was an odd expression playing around the corners of her mouths, "I suppose Madame Pomfrey will be by momentarily, and if you are up to it, I believe the headmaster would like to speak to you."

Her eyes turned serious. "Were you fighting?"

He blinked in surprise, and momentarily forgot about his aches and pains. "No, not at all! We were playing a game, and I was just…"

"Good to know you were merely playing a game, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, as he pulled back the curtain to enter. His eyes were twinkling, though McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey, following on his heels, appeared serious and concerned, respectively.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," said James' mother in greeting.

"Mrs. Potter," he inclined his head, "Thank you for arriving on short notice. And please sit back down."

While his mother did as instructed, James couldn't help but notice a slight reluctance to her actions. Once again, unbidden, the memories rose – of Dumbledore as a callous chess master, who may have played for the greater good, yet had not hesitated to sacrifice lives – and for a moment he wondered if his parents would have been more hesitant to blindly follow Dumbledore; unlike he himself had done in those haunting recollections. Perhaps they knew too well about Grindelwald – perhaps they, too, had known about the role Dumbledore had played, not only in Grindelwald's fall, but also his rise.

"Now, Mr. Potter, do you think you could answer a few questions?" Dumbledore inquired, smiling benignly.

James carefully fixed his eyes on Dumbledore's beard – he didn't think the headmaster would dare using legilimency here – yet he couldn't be too careful. Not when everything was going into pieces around him already.

"Sure," he said and mustered a slight grin.

His mother, he noted, was tense, as was McGonagall. Madame Pomfrey interrupted with a sigh, "Just a moment, Albus. Mr. Potter, are you currently experiencing any headache, acute pain, nausea or other conspicuous symptoms?"

He felt as if he'd been trampled by a Hippogriff, but that probably passed for normal in his condition, so he shook his head.

The nurse nodded. "Very well, go ahead, Albus. I'll be in my office, so just call for me should my assistance be needed."

She vanished, while, with a wave of his hand, the headmaster conjured two armchairs – one in dark red, decorated with golden lions chasing each other, while the other was purple monstrosity. McGonagall raised an eyebrow before sitting down.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I already heard from your friends, but I was wondering if you could tell us what happened," said Dumbledore.

James sat up and drew his blanket higher. "We were on our brooms, playing a game. I was over the lake and just returning to the castle, when somebody cast a stupify on me. The next moment I couldn't move, and then I was falling. Then I woke up here."

"Did you see them?" asked McGonagall.

James shook his head. "I didn't see or hear anybody."

Dumbledore twirled his beard around a finger. "So how do you know it was a stupify?"

James blinked. He knew it had been a stupify – because he knew what it felt like. He knew due to those blasted memories – and not because any eleven-year old would be able to recognize the spell.

"I read about it," he said, and reached for his tea in order to avoid looking at Dumbledore, "And it was just like described – I couldn't move at all."

"And it was lucky young Mr. Potter hit the water at the angle at which he did. He could have been hurt far worse," called Madam Pomfrey in from the outside, before the echo of her footsteps faded again.

James saw his mother glancing worriedly at him. He swallowed – at a wrong angle he could have easily broken his neck or spine.

"Well," said Dumbledore after a moment, "while we can't rule out anything, it may have been an accident."

"Accident or not, it was still very dangerous and we are lucky that it ended as it did," said his mother, and McGonagall nodded emphatically, "We should inquire. Or at least ask the students to be careful when practicing their magic – such as not to try casting spells on flying objects."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I do believe it might be time to enforce that rule."

After their small outing (it was too cold to remain outside for too long, and even now Severus' fingers were beginning to turn blue thanks to the thin fabric of his robe) the common room had mostly emptied out. Severus, Evan and William headed for one of the small tables in a corner, and then Evan produced a deck of Exploding Snap cards. William was winning for the third time, when Narcissa approached them, accompanied as always by Lucius Malfoy.

"Go on playing," she said with a smile, when all three boys set down their cards, "I was just wondering – what they were saying today about Sirius pulling Potter out of the lake, is that true?"

Severus nodded.

"You were there?" asked Lucius – and Severus couldn't tell if he was disapproving or not.

"Not right then. I think Sirius and Pettigrew pulled Potter out of the lake – I only came by when they started calling for help," said Severus

Narcissa blinked. "Why?"

"He was completely stiff – stupified – and had swallowed a lot of water," said Severus.

William sat up, surprise on his face. "He could've died."

There was an odd moment of silence around their table. James Potter was certainly not popular with Slytherin House – but that was a long way from wishing him dead.

"What happened?" asked Lucius Malfoy eventually.

"I wasn't there, so I don't really know," said Severus, "Pettigrew said he saw Potter fall – he didn't see any spell cast or anything else, but seeing as Potter was still stupified when they pulled him out, he probably fell after he was hit."

"Sweet Merlin," muttered Narcissa, while Evan pursed his lips. "Wouldn't that wear off after, five minutes, or something like that?"

"Might depend on who cast it," said William from his perch on the couch's armrest, "The more powerful the caster the longer a spell like that would last."

"So somebody might have hit Potter on purpose?" suggested Lucius, and Severus glanced up.

Lucius was eyeing him carefully – as if to remind him that barely a month ago Severus himself had been grievously injured by a still unknown culprit. A shudder ran down his spine.

William, who had been thinking along the same lines, tilted his head. "But why? Why would somebody attack James Potter of all people?"

"Who knows," said Narcissa, "But as to what Bella said earlier…"

Severus pressed his lips together. "Sirius and Pettigrew pulled Potter out of the water. I only stumbled onto them when they were trying to rouse Potter – who wasn't responding at all – and, well, I cast a Finite Incantatem and it worked."

He hoped nobody would inquire as to why he had been close enough to cast that spell, let alone why he had not just walked past. Nobody needed to know that he had been on a walk with Lily when they had heard Peter scream, and how terrified everybody had been when James wasn't waking, and with every moment that water remained in his lungs…

Severus pushed the memory away, all too aware of the watchful eyes observing him.

"That was lucky, then," said Narcissa, and William nodded. Next to her, Lucius frowned. "Indeed. Yet I can't help wonder… they never did find out who attacked you, did they?"

"No," replied Severus, his voice low and even.

"Are they even looking for that guy anymore?" asked Evan, sounding upset. Then he snorted, "Oh, it's probably because you're in Slytherin – can't be too grievous, then, just everyday life in Slytherin house, because we're obviously all dark wizards and killing one of our own is just business as usual."

Narcissa shushed him.

"It's not quite that simple," said Lucius, "Though there may be some truth to it, Rosier. The thing is, an attack like that would cause a scandal if it got out – probably big enough to topple Dumbledore and his entire administration."

The notion eerily echoed Sirius Black's warning. Do not stir up trouble – though from Lucius it sounded less like a warning, and more like an option.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" asked Evan.

"Perhaps," Lucius sighed, "Then again, who would believe students over the headmaster? And furthermore – what if it was actually somebody from our house who did it? This could go quite ill for us, too."

"You think the attack on Potter is related?" asked Severus abruptly. Evan blinked, thrown by the sudden change of topic, yet Lucius followed the jump without twitching a muscle.

"It seems likely," he said, "We have had plenty of accidents at Hogwarts in the last few years, but rarely any that left the victim's survival up to luck. Also, the actual accidents featured no elusive culprits, nor left they open speculations on possible motives. Thus, I do believe that there is a connection."

"Which then," added Severus thoughtfully, "will cause Dumbledore to investigate further. Because it is unlikely for Potter to be attacked for his blood status."

"And you probably weren't either, then," said William with a small smile, "Though that once again raises the question: why. What connects you and Potter – to a degree that somebody wouldn't mind seeing either of you dead, yet does not go out of their way to ensure just that."

Severus felt a cold shudder go down his spine. William seemed enraptured by the mystery, Evan terrified – Lucius mostly contemplative and Narcissa somewhat concerned.

He shrugged. "I have nothing in common with Potter."

They weren't even friends – had barely managed not to become enemies in the aftermath of Severus being attacked.

"Maybe it's because you sort of cooperate with him," suggested Evan, "I mean, Slytherin doesn't usually get along with Gryffindor."

Severus glared at him. "I do not…"

William interrupted. "Doesn't really make sense. Severus gets along far better with that Evans girl than with Potter, so by that logic it should have been her."

For a split second Severus felt ice crawling through his veins – his mind replacing James' unresponsive body with Lily's – before he could banish this nightmare into the deepest abyss of his mind.

"Be that as it may, I think we probably still miss information," said Narcissa, "As long as we have no actual, suitable theory, I believe being careful is the best precaution. And due to this, I would suggest we stop speculating now and get some sleep."

After the professors had left, James caught a thoughtful expression on his mother's face. She pursed her lips, then turned to him.

"James, are you certain it was an accident?" she asked.

He blinked, his vision blurring slightly. "I didn't see who did it – I don't know."

"Be that as it may," she said with a sigh, "I talked with your father and the headmaster earlier. And as it is only ten days until Christmas Break, you can come home a bit early if you want to. Madame Pomfrey said you probably wouldn't be up for class prior to the last one or two days, and the headmaster assured me that you wouldn't miss a lot during those two days."

She smiled. "Anyway, I'll leave you to rest up now. Think about it – if you want to, you can probably come home the day after tomorrow."

Tom visited Little Hangleton on a Saturday. The weather was overcast, but rainfall seemed not imminent. It was cold, though, and he drew his robe a little tighter around his shoulders. He cast a glance down, though there was no reason to worry about the enchantment on his clothes – the muggles here had yet to look at him oddly.

It was odd – Tom had turned his back on the muggle world long ago and sworn never to return. There were however only so many questions he could ask in the wizarding world before attracting attention – so here he was, walking streets he barely remembered.

Little Hangleton had changed. The ancient houses remained the same – only some did sport new coats of paint or small additions. There were far more cars around, and the contents of the shop windows had changed.

Tom had to shake his head. The items on sale at Diagon Alley did change, too, but not as profoundly and aggressively as in the Muggle World. The wizarding world produced timeless goods, whereas muggles constantly had to adjust to new findings and fashions – he didn't know how they could live like that.

Finding the only pub of the village was not difficult. Tom had to admit the menu did not make much sense to him, but in the end he asked the bartender for today's special. And then he leaned forward:

"I was wondering, the house on the hill – it looks as if it burned down recently."

The man nodded, cast a glance around before deciding none of the other two customers were in current need of his services, and leaned against the bar opposite Tom. "Yeah, went up in flames just last month."

"Accident?" inquired Tom.

"Nobody knows," replied the barman, "Nobody has been living there in ages, so maybe some gang or drug dealers moved in, who knows. Some say it was probably a homeless person trying to warm up by lighting a fire or so…"

"But?" asked Tom, dropping his tone conspiratorially.

The man leaned forward. "But it was strange. The fire brigade had a hard time putting it out – took them until the next morning, which is rather odd. I mean, it's a mansion, but you'd think they'd be able to put out a fire of that size faster, especially with the weather being what it is."

He swallowed, and Tom took a polite sip of the golden liquid that had been put down in front of him.

"And the strangest thing happened. Sometime after the fire broke out – you could see it already, most in the village were awake, but the fire truck hadn't really gotten to work yet – there was an explosion. Or something like it; it's hard to describe – a large burst of flame and some kind of pressure wave, and then the sky was all black and green for a moment. It looked creepy. Old Mrs. Miller down the street swore she saw the shape of a skull in the sky; but then she sees a lot of things. Whatever it was, it did however shatter the windows of a couple of the houses closest," the man shrugged, "Well, so I don't think it was just a normal fire, anyway."

Tom just nodded politely. His own mind had started turning things over already.

"Probably a drug lab or something. That would explain the odd smoke," the barman's lips quirked in a grin, "Old Barney from the bakery swears it were the communists."

There wasn't much Tom could add to this – he wasn't interested in muggle politics. Not when a much more tantalizing idea hung about.

Because according to the barman's description the Horcrux at Riddle Manor had been destroyed within the fire. And if that was indeed the case it implied somebody had consciously cast Fiendfire at a supposedly abandoned muggle manor. Probably not by accident.

Which posed the question of who had done it.

And the even more curious question of why he hadn't noticed the Horcrux' destruction. There were several theories – though with Winter solstice approaching fast he wouldn't be able to figure it out. Which was … annoying.

He had traveled in time in order to gain knowledge. Some he had found, but also encountered a mystery – one that, if he found a solution, would probably be invaluable.

Maybe he would stay a little longer.

tbc

Thank you for reading & please feel free to drop me a line!