The final week of school before the Christmas Holidays was crawling by for James, largely because he spent most of it looking over his shoulder, waiting for a group of shadowy figures to spirit him away to pay his unspecified "debt." It was somehow even more terrifying in its vagueness.

He had memorized all of his friends' schedules, and was taking roundabout routes between his own classes just for a chance to catch sight of them, and give him the peace of mind that they were ok. He had been too scared to tell them of the note, in case they were angry at him for endangering them, all for a chance to win a silly game.

So it was that he eventually found himself on Friday morning; finally the last day of term had arrived. He was walking from breakfast to his double-Defence class, which was with the Slytherins. He had made sure to pick up Holly on the way, and the two of them were walking slightly ahead of the rest of the group, chatting in low, conspiratorial tones. James had a firm grip on his wand beneath his robes, and was scanning ahead for any shifty-looking students that may have been coming their way.

They passed a cracked window, and a gust of wind whipped in, snatching at loose clothes and scarves. James pulled his robe tighter around himself, and Holly did the same. Snow was piled up on the outside of the panes; it had been sleeting all week. They were in the heart of winter now, and fires crackled all throughout the castle. Torches burned a little stronger in their brackets in an attempt to stave of the darkness and the cold.

The fact that all of the first-years were getting around in gloves, scarves and extra undergarments was tribute to the futility of that gesture.

What was the use of magic, James grumbled, if you couldn't even use it to heat up your home? He couldn't wait to learn a few warming charms. Fred had tried one on his own underwear that morning, and had nearly burnt down the entire first-year dormitory.

'It's a shame we had to give back the map,' Holly sighed, 'it's an excellent piece of magic. I bet it must have taken a lot of work to make.'

'Hmm,' James mumbled in agreement.

'Mapping the castle alone must have taken most of Nero's time at Hogwarts. There are just so many secret passages. I suppose we will never really know if he got them all, will we?'

'Mhmm.'

'I wonder how they worked out the patterns of all the moving staircases, too. Surely they didn't just sit there and watch them; that would have been the most boring job ever. Maybe Wren found that information out when she was working on the Heart. That would make sense.

'Uh-huh.'

'I wonder what the Heart looks like, I bet it's pretty.'

'Yeah.'

'James Sirius Potter, I think I'm in love with you.'

'WHAT?!' James jumped in shock. He spun around to see if anyone else had heard, but they were all out of earshot. He felt blood rushing to his face, his ears burning. 'You, what? But we– You– We're only–'

Holly was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, giggling madly and clapping her hands.

'You weren't listening to me,' she accused. 'I just wanted to get your attention. It is rather rude to walk someone to a class and then not saying anything but "Mmm" the entire time.'

That was a fair point, James supposed. He had been staring out the window, thinking about how the weather would affect tomorrow's Quidditch match. The second one of the season between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The Eagles had cruised past the Badgers in their previous meeting, two hundred twenty points to thirty. They likely had the best keeper in the competition, a fifth-year boy named Aster Ogleby. The fact that Hufflepuff had scored even three goals was a bit of a miracle.

This weather, though, would make for a different game altogether. James couldn't wait to see his first, true winter match.

'I was so listening,' he countered, 'you were talking about counting the staircases. And you said my heart was pretty, whatever that means.'

With form that Cassie would have most certainly approved of, Holly reached over and smacked him on the top of the head with her book.

'I could find out where they hide it, you know,' she said, 'the map, that is. I'm good at not being noticed, I could follow them, the next time they take it off us, see where they keep it hidden.'

'Steal the map from R.U.S.T?' James exclaimed. He supposed this was a Slytherin he was talking to, after all. 'I – I don't think that would be a good idea, at least not yet anyway. We still need them on our side to win F.A.R.T, remember? Not to mention to help us fight the Lenders.'

'Ok,' she shrugged dismissively, 'if you change your mind, just say the word.'

James shook his head in disbelief. Were all of his friends completely mental?

When they got to the classroom Professor Meadows greeted them with an abundance of Christmas cheer. James thought she looked like an overdressed Christmas-tree herself. She had on a brilliant green dress, decorated with all sorts of spangly baubles. A herd of reindeer chased each other ceaselessly around her midriff, kicking up tiny puffs of knitted snow as they went. She had on the brightest red lipstick James had ever seen, and nestled in her bright blonde hair was a headband sporting a twinkling star that offered its own glinting, flashing light.

James shared a look with Fred as they sat down side by side.

'I just love Christmas!' Professor Meadows cried, to nobody in particular.

The class itself was much more fun, as she had them split up in teams of four. To each team she gave a single, caged, Cornish Pixie and a pile of sweets. The goal was to unlock the cage which held your own pixie, by using the 'Alohomora' charm, and set it loose on the other teams, to steal from their stash of sweets. Each team was then supposed to use the Impediment Jinx on any pixie that tried to steal from their stash of sweets, and the team with the most sweets left at the end of the class was the winner.

It was sure to be madness.

James was teamed up with Fred, Clip and Cat. Clip managed to unlock the cage with ease, and set their energetic pixie off in the direction of a group of Slytherins. When no one else was looking, James offered him a high-five; that was the first time he had seen Clip try a new spell and get it perfect first time.

Fred quickly tired of throwing out Jinxes at their tiny, blue, impossible-to-hit targets. He swapped out their pile of sweets with some from a Skiving Snackbox that he produced from his bag. Shortly the class was filled with vomiting, coughing, boil-ridden pixies writhing about on the floor in obvious discomfort. James saw one particularly bold pixie, chewing on a nasty brown-coloured toffee. Moments later it was squatting over Fred's open bag, releasing a steady stream of yellow-brown vengeance from it's backside, all over the contents within.

Evidently not even that was enough to dampen Professor Meadows' mood, as she gave a few lazy flicks of her wand which cleaned up some of the mess, and pushed the pixies vaguely near their cages. Cat was busy crooning over the one Fred had caught defecating in his bag, stroking it's pale head and whispering softly in it's ear.

They were allowed to go a half hour early, and everyone beat a hasty retreat, for fear of being asked to help clean up when the Professor came to her senses. James was nearly out the door when he heard his name called.

He turned, and Professor Meadows sauntered up to him. Well, as much as one is able to saunter with half a leg missing, he supposed.

'Teddy arrives on Sunday, exciting isn't it?'

Oh. Ohhhhh.

'Erm…'

'I'll say hello from you, shall I? I bet he'd like that. He would, wouldn't he?'

'Er… Yes?'

The professor squealed excitedly and ruffled his hair, then kissed him on the top of the head. As she spun away, her garish dress whipping out and flicking James in the face he stared, open-mouthed. Was that even allowed? He turned and ran out the classroom.

He caught up with his friends as they were having lunch. Cat frowned at him as he sat down.

'You've got something red in your hair James,' she said.

'Don't even ask.'

The next day brought the final Quidditch match of the term, the second meeting of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. It was essentially a bottom of the table clash, with Hufflepuff having lost all of their games so far, and Ravenclaw's sole victory coming over the Badgers earlier in the term.

Both teams had, however, been injected with new life, after the bans were handed down following the most recent Gryffindor-Slytherin match. The Lions and the Serpents had lost a multitude of key players to the four-match ban, with the entire Hydra having been sidelined for Gryffindor. They wouldn't be eligible to play until the final game of the season, and all of a sudden the other teams were smelling blood.

They had even managed to drag Cassie out to watch the match, despite her numerous protests. There wasn't any homework that she could possibly be doing on the last day, and considering her alternative was to stay in the Ravenclaw tower with a sullen and snappish Rain, she eventually caved and joined them. She made a show of bringing a book along with her to read, but it was her Dragon Book, and James knew that that was the one she carried around for when she wanted to look like she was reading, but actually wasn't.

The group of James, Clip, Fred, Cat, Cassie and Tristan made their way out through the driving snow. James had his hood pulled up, and three pairs of gloves on, but the cold was still finding a way to sneak in through the cracks in his armour and nip him on every exposed piece of flesh.

Upon Cat and Freddy's stern insistence, they were yet again headed for the Fred Weasley I Memorial stand. Thankfully, it was the shortest distance from the Castle, so James had ceded this time.

Outside the stadium, as they hurried towards the warmth, James saw two stalls, manned by older students who were constantly shooting evil glares at each other. There was a queue in front of each one, and as they walked past he saw numerous coins change hands between the vendors and other students.

One stall displayed an embossed, cursive 'L' while the other was labelled, a little more shabbily, with a sign saying 'R.U.S.T Lending Exploitation Services'. It appeared that R.U.S.T were intent on beating the Lenders at their own game. Good luck to them, too. James thought it would be a colossal undertaking.

Up in the stadium they took their seats, all a little cautiously. Cat's chair seemed to grow fur when she sat on it, and started gnawing softly on her bottom. She just giggled and stroked it, like it was perfectly natural, and soon it was emitting a soft crooning noise. James' chair had that biding-it's-time feeling yet again.

The game got underway amidst the howling wind and horrendous snow. They could barely hear the commentary drifting across from the other end of the stadium.

This was going to be a tight match, James was sure of it. Ravenclaw were hot favourites to win the Cup now that Gryffindor and Slytherin had been hit with suspensions, but Hufflepuff were a spirited bunch, and quietly had a competent young team that they were working on.

With a crosswind like this, making shots at goal was bound to be a nightmare, not to mention visibility was down to, at best, thirty percent. He could only imagine what it would be like to play a game like this. This was where the Keepers, and the Beaters would shine. This was bound to be a defensive battle. With the Chasers rendered next to useless, it would take an incredibly crafty game plan to come out on top here.

The match dragged on through the morning. Cassie lit a small fire on a blanket in front of them, in an attempt to hold the cloying chill at bay. They huddled around it eagerly.

Ravenclaw slowly drew out a narrow lead at seventy to forty. Cassie, who had strongly professed no interest in Quidditch whatsoever up until that very morning, was now having great fun lording it over Tristan from where she sat pressed up next to him around the fire.

'I still can't believe you beat us at F.A.R.T,' Clip sighed, 'using the Cloak hardly seems fair.'

'Hey, it wasn't in the rules,' James said defensively, 'and besides, if you had hit me, our team would have been out for sure. High risk, high reward, right Tristan?'

'Indeed, "one often must kiss the Blast-Ended Skrewt in order to find out which end is it's head", as Father is wont to say.'

'Er…' James said.

'What even is a Blast-Headed Scoot?' Fred asked.

Tristan just shrugged.

'I thought one of you might know.'

At that moment Cassie let out a gasp, and pointed excitedly out towards the pitch. She had been pointing at one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, who was diving down after a dropped Quaffle, but at the other end of the pitch the Seekers actually had seen the snitch, and were rocketing upwards towards it.

James could just make out the blue and yellow shapes streaking through the air. The Hufflepuff Seeker appeared to be slightly ahead, and Tristan was cheering him on enthusiastically. Cassie stood, book forgotten, shouting something unintelligible amongst the twin roars of the crowd and the wind.

In a brief tangle of robes and a glint of gold it was over, the Hufflepuff Seeker emerging with his hand aloft, a tiny shimmering shape struggling within his grasp.

Cassie sank back into her chair moodily.

'Last time I ever come to watch a game,' she huffed.

They stomped back up to the castle through the snow, Tristan telling everyone who would listen about how this game was the turning point of the Hufflepuff season. James tried to tune it out; he didn't need reminding how hard it was going to be for Gryffindor to keep winning. Poor Diana Fairbourne had had three nervous breakdowns in the week after the suspensions were handed down, and she was named Interim Captain of the team.

The relative warmth of the Entrance Hall was a welcome respite, and the group immediately began shedding layers, and shaking loose trails of snow off of their clothes. As they made to head off to find a warm fire to huddle around, and perhaps source a cup of hot cocoa, James saw Headmistress McGonagall standing at the base of the Grand Staircase. She was staring directly at him, with a look cold enough to put the icy December winds to shame.

'Mister Potter, Miss Featherstone, follow me, if you would. She has been asking for you.'

James looked around at his friends, stunned. Asking for them? Who was? Were they in trouble? The Headmistress certainly looked grave. Was it R.U.S.T again, had the Lenders attacked Wren during the game? Cassie looked as terrified as he felt, and for once she didn't resist as he grabbed her hand in his own gloved one.

As they turned off on the first floor, and made down a familiar corridor towards the Hospital Wing, it dawned on James just who might have been asking for the both of them, and the fact that she was now in the Hospital Wing meant that whatever it was that was wrong with her, had taken a turn for the worse. He picked up the pace, and Cassie followed suit.

Headmistress McGonagall pushed open the doors of the Hospital Wing, and James saw, in the only occupied bed, a tiny, frail figure with red-gold hair. Her honey skin was pale, all sign of her usual healthy blush was gone. She looked so wrong with her hair arrayed haphazardly about her, no sign of the usual intricate braids that she always wore. Her chest was rising and falling softly beneath the sheets, her breaths coming slow and halting.

She seemed so alone, lying there with nobody at her bedside. Where were all the rest of her friends? James wondered angrily. He paused at that; now he thought about it, he supposed he didn't know if she had any other friends. Everybody talked about the mysterious girl with the funny name, who could control the magic of Hogwarts itself, or who was secretly Voldemort reincarnated, sent back to finish his work in taking over the magical world. Everyone was quick to speculate, but ever from afar. He rarely ever saw her outside of the company of Cassie. He supposed she was really her only friend, and himself perhaps, if he counted their series of awkward encounters and largely uncomfortable conversations as friendship. He supposed that she clearly had, if she was asking for him.

In the face of something like this, it made his little internal feud with her seem quite silly, really.

'She fell ill about an hour ago,' the Headmistress explained, 'a Ravenclaw student found her, suffering from some form of fit in her dormitory, and she was brought here immediately. Priscilla has been unable to do anything for her as yet, and so we are arranging for an emergency evacuation to St. Mungo's immediately. They should be here any minute.

'She was lucid only momentarily, following her episode. She mentioned your name several times, Miss Featherstone, and then called for you, Mister Potter. I don't imagine she will reawaken before she leaves, but, well… It gives you a chance to say goodbye, nonetheless.'

The way she said that made James blood run cold in his veins. Say goodbye. Like it was final. James froze up, but Cassie put his thoughts into words, though he dreaded hearing the response.

'H-How bad is it? Is she going to be ok?'

The Headmistress gave them a long, level stare before answering.

'We don't know, at this stage. She is very sick, but the Healers at St. Mungo's are the best in the wizarding world. I'm sure that they will be able to work out what is wrong with her. There's not much that they can't fix.

'You go and say goodbye, I'm going to fetch Priscilla and show the Extraction Team in.'

They hurried over to the bed, Cassie had tears in her eyes, and was stroking her friend's hair softly.

'I should have stayed with you,' was all she was whispering, over and over again. Tears slid softly down her cheeks, glistening softly in the grey light filtering through the windows.

The silence in the Hospital Wing was oppressive. James felt it closing in on him, as he sat next to a dying girl's bed, and could do nothing. The only noises were Cassie's gentle sobs, and the occasional gust of wind howling its own icy anguish at the injustice of the situation.

Eventually Cassie could take it no more, and she turned to James, pressing herself into his chest and shaking softly with silent sobs, her entire body wracked with grief.

He held her quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head, unable to think of anything to say that would make it better.

The wind rattled the glass in its panes, and the storm raged on.

A door slammed open at the back of the room, and Headmistress McGonagall emerged, leading two Medi-Witches behind her. They were talking rapidly, using jargon which James didn't understand. The serious looks on the Witches faces seemed only to confirm his fears.

He reached in to grab Rain's hand, to give it a squeeze, to try and show her somehow that he was here, beside her. That she had friends, and they cared for her. Her skin was icy cold beneath his own, and as soon as he touched her, her eyes snapped open.

James jumped back in alarm, as she turned to face them both. She reached out an arm, as if to touch him.

'James… please…' Her voice was so weak, so quiet, that James almost imagined he had heard it. He leaned in to take her hand again, but she had already fallen back to the pillows, lifeless once more.

'Out! Both of you!' barked the nearest Medi-Witch, as she unpacked a floating stretcher next to the bedside. 'We don't need you in here upsetting the patient, now go on! She'll be fine, don't you worry your little heads.'

Being snapped at by an overbearing and condescending older witch was apparently too much for Cassie to take at that moment, and she burst from the room in tears. James walked out a little slower, casting several glances back over his shoulder as he went.

The Headmistress ushered him out the door, and offered a warm smile.

'She's in the best place she can be, now, James. I shouldn't think we have to worry about her. Run along, I believe Miss Featherstone is in dire need of a friend right now.'

James turned to leave, and just as the doors clicked shut, he heard a chilling scream come from within.

'Noooo! Bring him back! Potter!'

He whirled around, trying to pry open the door, but it was shut fast.

'Come back! Harry please!'

Harry?

No more sounds came from behind the door, and James eventually turned to find Cassie, as he figured neither of them would want to be alone right now.

But why would Rain call him Harry? Sure, he had been told he looked quite like his father several times. But he knew that his own hair was slightly lighter, his eyes brown instead of green, and he had a light dusting of freckles across his nose that his father never sported. Al was the one who really looked like their father. Was she just too delusional that her clouded mind mistook him? Had Rain even met his father?

His confusion was interrupted as he came across Cassie, seated at the top of the staircase. She had her head in her hands, dark hair falling haphazardly around her face. He lowered himself down next to her and slid an arm around her shoulders. She didn't even look up.

The pair sat like that for a long time, in silence. Students came and went around them, paying them little mind. Eventually Cassie looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot.

'I don't want to lose her James,' she whispered.

James nodded in reply.

'We're not going to. She'll be at St. Mungo's already I bet. They'll have Medi-Witches all over her, working out what's wrong. I'm sure she'll be out of there in no time, you could go visit her over the holidays if you wanted.'

She burst into tears all over again, and pulled away from James.

'I don't – I don't even know where she lives,' Cassie sobbed.

'Oh,' said James, 'well, we will sort something out. Someone has to know. Headmistress McGonagall would, I'm sure.

That seemed to placate her somewhat, and her sobs reduced to mere sniffles. James put an arm around her again, and she leaned into him. It was dark before the two figures at the top of the stairs stood up from their spots and headed off to bed.

The next day was another bleak one, grey, featureless sky wept soft raindrops onto their heads as the students of Hogwarts made their way to Hogsmeade Station ready to catch the train home for Christmas.

Their compartment on the train was subdued for the duration of the trip. Very few of them talked, outside of speculating about how Rain was doing. Cassie curled up in a corner and slept for most of the journey. James kept a nervous eye on her; she had been taking it pretty hard ever since they heard the news. He sorely hoped that getting back to her family would cheer her up.

As the train crawled slowly into King's Cross Station, James stared listlessly out the window, his forehead pressed up against the icy glass. Decorations hung from every available spot, tinsel was entwined around pillars, and groups of carollers serenaded the train's entrance in hearty chorus. Christmas had well and truly arrived in London, but he felt weird, like he had been away from it all. Between Quidditch, F.A.R.T club, and classes, he had so many other things on his plate that Christmas had sort of crept up on him entirely. He smiled when he saw his family on the platform, and gently reached over to wake Cassie, as the train screeched to a halt.

The group clambered out together, and milled about a bit, lingering on goodbyes before darting off to the arms of waiting family members. Fred was coming home with James, as both his parents were working, and eventually it was only the two of them and Cassie left waiting.

'We'll see you soon, okay?' James said to her, 'and I'll owl you on Christmas, we've got a present that is sure to cheer you up.'

'If either of you send me anything to the detriment of myself, my property or my family, I will never help you with your homework again!'

She gave them a weak smile, and James punched her playfully on the arm.

'That's the Cassie we know and love.'

James turned and left with Fred, towards where his mother and siblings were standing together, waving happily. He cast a final glance back to see Cassie standing alone and a little despondent, all by herself. Despite all the decorations and the cheer, James just wasn't quite able to put himself into the Christmas spirit.