A/N: Merry Christmas! Hopefully the holidays bring you happiness, and I will see you all in the new year!

-Z

The moonlight outside was smothered by a thick blanket of cloud, rain hammered a monotonous drumbeat against the window panes, and James Potter waited to fulfil a promise made what felt like a month ago.

In reality, it was only a week. The events that had taken place since then had turned time into a seamless flow of action, and he was struggling to keep his head above the surface.

The torches were burning low in their brackets, and approaching footsteps were masked by the sound of the weather outside So it was that his companion had slid in beside him before he'd so much as noted their presence.

'Hello James Potter.'

He'd not told any of the others that he would be venturing out alone, after hours. He knew just what they'd have said.

'Hello Rain.'

She offered her arm, and he tentatively took it, but the oncoming rush of nausea that he was bracing for never came. He eyed her sideways as they descended the staircase by wandlight, and was troubled by what he saw.

She looked older, and wearier, somehow. As if she hadn't slept in a week. Despite being nearly a head taller than James, she was walking hunched, and her gaze was turned decidedly inwards.

'So what do you think?' James finally asked, 'about it all. Renshaw, Atlantis, everything that's going on.'

'Renshaw scares me,' she stated plainly. A sentiment James could empathise with. 'Did you know that she was Senior Advisor to the Minister? A role in which she would be free to push her own magical and political agenda to her heart's content. A role in which she would have to answer to nobody but her own conscience. And she gave it all up, for the chance at command over some twisted, malevolent-'

'Hey, we're not that bad,' James interjected.

In spite of herself, Rain actually smiled. 'The Steelhearts, James Potter, not us. Although, if what the Minister said to your father is true, she no longer commands even them. At least not in name.

'What could be so important that she would give up one of the most coveted jobs in the Magical world for?'

'Dumbledore was here for years,' James mused.

'Yes, but does Renshaw strike you as a doddery old fool with more desire to be loved than feared?'

'Was Dumbledore really, though? I mean, from what Dad said, he was doing three million things behind the scenes for every one thing he was seen to do in public. He had access to Dad, to all the magical children of a generation, most of whom eventually came to fight for him, and against Voldemort.'

Rain remained silent for a moment, pondering James' words. The look she gave him was appraising, but edged with fear. Her grip on his arm tightened. 'He was preparing for a war.'

James' mind raced in the silence that waxed. He'd never have a better opportunity. On the fourth floor landing, as they paused behind a suit of armour to check that the coast was clear, he drew forth as much Gryffindor courage as he could manage.

'Rain, I found something… something that my Dad had about your time in St. Mungo's.'

Once he started talking he couldn't stem the flow of words. He told her everything he could recall of the letter, and what he had pieced together upon seeing her scar, and everything that had passed between him and Odette.

Rain's response was delayed as a teacher passed their hiding spot. The silence was filled with trepidation.

'I see why you have been avoiding me,' she finally said slowly, testing her words before giving them up. 'James Potter, may I show you something?'

He nodded, then watched in silence as Rain carefully unwound her scarf. She handed James the deep blue amulet that she wore hidden beneath it. It was searing hot to touch, but cooled the longer he held it. Her coat came next, draped over the shoulder of the suit of armour that was hiding them. Her eyes locked on James' as she slowly unfastened first one, then another of the buttons on her shirt.

James held his breath as she pulled the silken fabric aside, revealing in the dim flickering light, the very scar he had seen on the train at the start of the year. He gasped, in spite of himself. Where before, the sickening blackness had been the size of a Galleon, spread across nearly the entire left side of her chest, now it was a drop no larger than a Knut. The spiderwebbing taint was barely visible coursing through her veins.

James looked her in the eyes, wondrous, as she fixed her buttons. She reached for the amulet, and sighed as it settled around her neck once more.

'I have been busy, James Potter. I have only one life, here. I'll not let it slip through my fingers so easily. Rest assured, that I will do everything in my power to fight this. I ask only that you stand beside me.'

'Of course.' The words were out before he'd had time to think.

'Through all that is to come, no matter what you may hear, or what others will tell you?'

'Always.'

She made her way out from their alcove then, linking her arm with James' once more. 'Good, because trying times await us, James Potter. I have not the gift of foresight, but I certainly know, that I will not make it through it all without you by my side.'

The fear in her voice was infectious, and James shuddered despite the mild night.

They turned down a corridor on the second floor, marked by a headless suit of armour that Fred had accidentally decapitated two weeks prior.

'I lost a lot of days inside St. Mungo's, James Potter. Weeks, even, where I would sleep, waking fitfully in between only to be force-fed another potion and told that I must sleep some more. These past days I have begun to wonder, if Renshaw did as she said in your memory, and is somehow tracking me, then who else may have taken the opportunity whilst I lay prone in that bed?'

'Surely they can't just do that. I mean, wouldn't your-'

'You forget I have no family, James Potter. I have nobody.'

'A lot of people seem to have a very keen interest in you.'

'People – wizards especially – fear what they do not – or cannot – understand. You must remember that we are led by a generation baptised in the fire and blood of not one, but two wars. No matter how hard they try to bury it, scepticism and mistrust is second nature.

'When the word gets out that a Nundu has been set loose in the midst of Godric's Hollow, the first reaction is to gather the men of the village and exterminate it. When, instead, the poor soul may be lost, torn from its home against its will and spat out with no more justification than to cause chaos. Remember that, James Potter, that sometimes it is the Nundu that is the victim.'

If there was more to her story than its face value, James couldn't grasp it. They had arrived at their destination. Rain paused next to a faded, wooden door. The dust thick on the floor indicated that no-one had traversed this path in a while.

She lowered her wand at the lock. 'Alohomora.'

Will a dull thunk, the mechanism clicked open, and the door swung inward easily beneath James' tentative push.

James immediately noticed the sound of the torrential rain increase tenfold. They had to hold their wands aloft to illuminate the entirety of the long, narrow classroom. He saw the reason immediately; a section of the wall facing out to the elements had been blasted away, and upon further inspection, a thick, black ichor coated the bricks at the margins of the breach. Everywhere the raindrops hit it they hissed and fizzed angrily. Dust and rubble coated the floor thickly in that far corner, and nobody had even bothered to attempt to right the desks, which lay scattered and splintered like so much litter down the length of the room.

'They never could fix that breach,' Rain mused. 'Stray not too close to the damage, James Potter. I do not like the look of that sickly blackness.'

James agreed. He lit the only torch bracket with an Incendio, and turned to the other end of the room, where a tall, mirrored cabinet stood ominously still. The dust around its base had clearly been disturbed. Rain was studying it pensively.

'So this is it, then?' James had to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. The dancing shadows from the torchlight were amplified by the mirrored façade on the cabinet before them. It shuddered violently, causing them both to start.

Lightning flashed without.

'As promised, James Potter. It appears that Princess has been rather lonely, of late.'

'You named it?'

'Not I.'

'So…'

'You are familiar with the incantation, no?'

James nodded his head. His heart rate spiked as Rain strode confidently over to the cupboard. Were they not going to prepare first?

With no further ado, Rain flung the doors wide and stepped back to study James' fate.

For a moment there was nothing. James peered into the cabinet but was greeted only by swirling blackness. He jumped backward in fright as a hand shot out, followed by a black-robed, human body. The skin on the hand was cracked and faded, stretched taught and sickly yellow like sun-damaged parchment. He could see the veins beneath the translucent skin. Yellow nails curled into a clawed fist.

He took another step back, colliding with an upended table, as the figure extricated itself from the darkness. The black robes were faded and tattered, hanging from a skeletal frame in ragged strips. James barely noticed the faded Gryffindor logo on the breast, slashed through so many times as to be nearly unrecognisable.

But it was the face – or lack thereof – that terrified James the most. An untidy mop of dark hair was thinning, falling out even as James watched, and it framed a face devoid of features at all. Skin stretched taut and peeling over gaunt cheekbones, no eyes to see nor mouth to snarl, but it looked directly at James, directly into him.

He knew who it was, even without the hair or the Gryffindor robe. It was him. It was his legacy, his failure. A faceless body, dead and decaying, not only physically, but in the minds of the entire wizarding world. He had achieved nothing with his life, he was a faceless nobody, doomed not even to the pages of history because so few were his deeds. Images flashed through his mind, a grave unmarked and unvisited, forgotten by a family who had not the will to care. The backs of his friends, as they turned away. And when they looked his way their eyes saw right through him.

The faceless figure took a shambling step towards James, whose wand-arm had fallen to his side.

This was going to be him, doomed to anonymity. The son of the most fabled wizarding hero in a dozen generations, and he had achieved nothing. Perhaps history would forget him altogether, and would speak of Harry Potter's single son and daughter. Al was the clever one, he knew all the books and spells. He should have been in Ravenclaw, but James had tried his best to stop that from happening, because he had hated the idea of being so separated from his brother. He was holding them back, really. Al would never have been bullied in Ravenclaw, he would have been top of his class, and it was James' fault.

A hand reached out towards him, but James could back up no further.

A flash of colour caught his attention, and he saw Rain watching on, her red-gold hair spilling forth over her shoulders. Her eyes were fixated on him, she was biting her bottom lip, nervous.

The momentary distraction was just enough for James to raise his wand. As the figure snatched at him, he scrambled out of reach, tripping over the desk behind him and landing painfully on his tailbone.

'Riddikulus!' he yelled, pointing his wand directly at the thing's face.

The stretched-parchment skin turned a stony grey, and the figure wobbled. All of a sudden its neck gave away with a sickening pop and it fell head-first onto the floor, its head transfigured to stone. It floundered around on the floor uselessly for a moment, trying in vain to get up. Laughter, James remembered. He forced out a chuckle, and he heard Rain giggle from the far side of the room, but the memory was still too raw, and instead of disappearing, the Boggart morphed before his eyes, getting younger, more human, pushing itself up to stand over James where he lay tangled with the legs of a desk.

'Failed yet again,' sneered a perfect replica of Harry Potter.

James heard a gasp from the background.

'Is there anything else you would like to disappoint me with today? Would you like to bring any more shame to the name of your grandfather? Masquerading about Hogwarts like some shallow imitation of the Marauders, failing classes, trying to involve yourself in the lives of adults because you want to be like me? There's only one Harry Potter, and you will never be anything like me!'

This time the Boggart wasn't reaching out for James, his father was content to tower over him, hurling abuse and disdain from above. And it was far more terrifying. James desperately clung to the things he had achieved. He had won F.A.R.T club and saved Rain in first year-

'Saved her? You mean, almost got two of your friends killed! How dare you put them in danger like that? When I faced down Voldemort in my first year, I did it alone! I'd rather die than risk the lives of my friends, but little James Potter hasn't the courage to go it alone, so he puts better witches and wizards in danger in his place. You disgust me, James. How could you even think that you had a chance of measuring up to me?'

James looked over to Rain, pleading for help. Tears were stinging his eyes.

'Ah, of course. You latch yourself on to this girl, in the hopes that she will be something great. Because, deep down, you think the same as everyone else, don't you? She's some sort of freak, some weird breed of special that you can harness and ride to relevance by sheer virtue of being in her pocket. That's all she is, isn't it? A way to the top? I can't even look at you.'

His next six words cut through James like a knife.

'You are no son of mine.'

James choked back a sob. He couldn't even look at Rain, not after what his father had said. He raised his wand in shaking hands. 'R-riddikulus.'

Nothing happened.

'Hah! Of course you can't cast it. Did you know, a Boggart becomes stronger proportional to the strength of the wizard? Of course you didn't! I am ten times the wizard you'll ever be, and I banished mine with ease! You're weak, James. You don't deserve the name Potter!'

'Riddikulus!' James yelled, defiant.

'I can only stand so much failure-'

His Boggart-father's voice had gone up an octave. James heard a gasp from the back of the room. He tried again.

'Riddikulus!'

'Don't think you can-'

The creature choked off its sentence, as its voice was become higher and squeakier than the most excited house-elf James had ever heard. There had been a terrifying week where Fred had been sent a batch of 'Squeaky Clean' breath mints that made one unable to speak for hours, save for making an irritating squeaking noise like the air being let out of a balloon. The glee on Fred's face each time he had managed to sneak one into somebody's dessert or pumpkin juice had never gotten old.

'Riddikulus!' James yelled once more, with confidence.

The Boggart roared – or tried to – letting out a wailing squeak, as if someone had just stepped on said house-elf. James laughed – truly laughed. He laughed as hard as he had when Cassie wouldn't stop moaning about her leg and Fred had tossed one into her yawning mouth from across the table. And as hard as he had when Holly had sat on Fred's legs while Cassie had, in return, beaten him senseless with her Dragon Book. The sound of all of his friends' laughter echoed in his head, he laughed until his sides hurt, and suddenly, before him a pop like a cork sounded, and he was left staring at nothing more than a rain of black mist, which slunk slowly back towards the closet.

Rain rushed over to him, knocking the cupboard as she did so. James had pushed himself to his feet by the time she arrived.

'I've never seen a Boggart act like that. Two Manifestations back to back, that is quite some power, James Potter.'

'Rain, I'm so sorry. That stuff it said, I didn't- I mean, I don't-'

The deep, reverberating sound of ice cracking cut him short. The two of them spun to face the cupboard. The door was ajar, swinging from where Rain had knocked it. The Boggart hadn't been locked away, and the black mist was seeping out onto the floor once more.

This time Rain was directly in the line of fire.

'James, run!' she yelled, pushing him towards the door. He stumbled ahead of her, lunging for the handle, but before he made it a wall shot up from the floor, barring the exit. He spun to see her, rooted to the spot before the cupboard. She reached out a hand towards him, let out a plaintive cry.

A giant, mirrored wall rose up between them, and she was lost to James' sight. All around him the walls rose, each one mirrored, and angled so it appeared that he was trapped in a maze. He rushed towards where he had last seen Rain, but collided with solid glass. Neither fists nor spells could do anything to dent it. He spun to look behind him as a low, grinding sound shuddered through the room. The walls were closing in. He watched in terror, as each time he moved, they would get a step closer.

He froze, his chest heaving. He no longer had enough room to stretch out his full arm span.

As he reigned in the panic and looked around at the myriad reflections facing him, he realised that they were not reflections of himself, but of Rain.

That was when the screaming started.

'Rain!' James called out desperately. He heard the grinding that announced the shifting walls, knew that she must have been moving in her panic. 'Rain, where are you!'

A moment of silence. 'Harry, is that you?'

'Harry? What, no it's me, James. James Potter.'

'James… Potter? Are you the one who has summoned me?'

'What? No, it's your friend. It's me, Rain. It's James!' Desperation was tingeing his voice as he heard the walls on her side closing in. It was like she had lost her mind.

'James? Oh, James! You have to help me James, I- I don't know if I can do it.'

'Just stop moving,' he yelled. 'The walls move if you take a step.'

'This is how it begins, every time James. It's always the same. Can you feel it, the pull? Can you feel them calling your name? Not long, and it will be over. Always the same, always…'

'No one's calling you Rain, nobody is pulling you anywhere. It's just you and me. This is a Boggart, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less.'

He heard the walls shudder once more.

'I can't move anymore James, soon I'll be gone, and I'll do it all again. Do you think I'll be a queen this time, or a tyrant? I hope I have friends, James. I hope I have friends just like you.'

Her gibbering was beginning to scare James more than the mirrored maze they were trapped in. 'You don't need friends like me, Rain. You have me, right here. I'm just behind this wall. If you listen to me these walls will all disappear. They'll disappear and we can leave, and no one will call you anywhere ever again.'

'That's what I hoped when I came back. But they've found me.'

'No one has found you, Rain. Just me, it's only me. The two of us, here in an old classroom. We're at Hogwarts.'

'J-James Potter?' for the first time, her voice sounded normal, laced through with real fear.

'Yes Rain! Listen to me, you mustn't move any more, d'you understand?'

'Mhm.'

His mind raced as he thought about how in the world he would make this into a funny situation. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and watched as his startling strawberry-blonde locks rippled in response in the mirror.

He shook his head, and the long tumble of hair shook with him. A phantom sensation tickled his cheeks as he swished his hair back and forth wildly. He smiled to himself.

'Rain. I have your reflection.'

'Of course you do.'

'Every time I move or talk, it looks like it's you doing it.'

'That is the nature of this prison – it is mine.'

'Have you ever done a handstand before?'

'That would be most unladylike.'

James surveyed the upside-down Rain in the mirror. His arms wobbled precariously.

'I like your mermaid tights.'

'James Potter!'

The scandal in her voice was real. James tumbled to the floor, and felt the walls grind in around him. His breathing quickened, he needed her to laugh.

'Did you know you can touch your nose with your tongue? I've never been able to do that.'

The cross-eyed Rain in the mirror before him had a face flushed red with concentration.

'Stop it James Potter, this instant!' but he could almost hear the smile in her voice.

'I've somehow managed to mess up your hair. How do you keep it so perfect all the time, is it magic? Let me fix it.'

James aimed his wand at his real hair, attempting a grooming charm for the first time in his life.

'Oh dear, I seem to have turned it yellow.'

A half-hiccup, half-giggle sounded from behind the wall.

'My hair!'

In his excitement, James fumbled his wand, dropping it to the floor with an echoing clatter. He bent down to pick it up, stretching out carefully so as not to take a step and set the walls off. In his reflection Rain's scarf slid free of her neck, exposing rather an alarming amount of-

'James, are you there?'

'Sorry, dropped my wand.'

'Why are you so- James Potter were you looking down my blouse?'

'Erm, no…' he straightened hurriedly. Some parts of his reflection took a bit longer to stop moving than he was used to. He jumped up and down on the spot, admiring his reflection. 'I can see why you don't do a lot of jumping. These are bouncy.'

The sound that came from behind the wall was perhaps the most un-Rain-like sound he had ever heard her emit. She appeared to be caught somewhere between a guffaw of laughter, a snarl of rage, and a hiccupping sob. The resultant snort that ripped through the silence echoed between the mirrors for a moment.

Then both of them burst out laughing as one. James doubled over, clutching his sides. All around him spiderwebbing cracks began to form in the glass. He sucked in a desperate lungful of air, and the walls shattered, cascading to the ground in a glittering waterfall. He was left, facing Rain, not two feet apart. Their eyes locked for a moment, before she dashed to him, flinging her arms around him in a fierce hug.

She held him for a long time, and James was content to stand there, breathing in her scent and letting the tension of their evening evaporate beneath the warmth of her embrace. Finally, she pulled back, and wiping a tear from her eyes she gave a watery smile.

'Thank you, James Potter. You see, together, we are invincible.'

James didn't mention the trip to face their Boggart to any of his friends. In part, he was a little ashamed that he had struggled so mightily to defeat his own, and in part because he thought that whatever it was that had happened with Rain was something for her to tell. He knew better than to press her so soon after the fact; she would tell him in her own time, and not before.

Her own time was a long time coming, however, as a stormy April blurred into an equally dreary May. Dark clouds hung persistently over the Black Lake, with the now-familiar pastel lightning keeping many a student awake well into the night.

The bad weather only compounded James' disappointment as Gryffindor lost their next quidditch match, to Hufflepuff yet again. Whatever was going on between Lilian and Ryan was beginning to affect their play on the field. They had almost jumped out to a one hundred and sixty point lead – and should have, but for some sloppy communication – before Diana was beaten to the Snitch. Lilian had played outstanding, but the usual fluid chemistry between the three heads of the Hydra was clearly missing. Several passes to and from Ryan went wide, and they botched another pair of goal opportunities late in the match to lose by one hundred eight to two hundred. Three goals shy of obtaining an insurmountable lead.

Ryan was fuming after the game, his post-match speech laden with expletives and harsh words. Lilian was bundled away early by a pair of official-looking women in blazers, further stoking the fire in Ryan's eyes as he glared at them all in disappointment.

'How can you say it's just a game?' Fred moaned, an hour later as they all warmed up around the study room fire, sipping hot cocoa and draped in blankets. Cassie was rolling her eyes, and tried to hide behind her book, but Fred was having none of it.

'Look, we have two games left in the season. We have to win them both now, if we've any shot of winning the cup. We have to go up against Aster Ogleby, and the way the Hydra are playing at the moment they don't stand a chance! If we lose to Ravenclaw, the best we can hope for is to beat Slytherin, and all three of us end up on five wins. Do you know how much we would have to beat Slytherin by to win the Cup? Six hundred points. The way they're playing now, that's impossible. Unless someone kidnapped Mansfield, there's no chance.

'I dunno what the hell has gotten into Ryan lately, but it's like someone kicked his Kneazle. He's angry and sulky and won't talk to Lilian. We're doomed, Cassie, doomed!'

Fred ended his spiel clutching at the collar of Cassie's robe, a desperate look in his eye. James wasn't far off agreeing, the way the Hydra had played today hardly inspired confidence.

'That's rather an impressive feat, keeping track of all those points and wins, Fred. If you paid half as much attention to your classes you might actually pass something.'

Fred looked between her and James, stunned.

'Girls,' he muttered, shaking his head. James, Tristan and Clip all nodded sagely in response.

Rain retired early from their study session that night, and James wasn't far behind. He traipsed up the stairs to Gryffindor tower alone, wallowing in self-pity about Gryffindor's turn of rotten luck, and ruminating on whether he could come up with a plan to help Ryan and Lilian sort out whatever it was between them. So lost in though was he, that he nearly bumped into the shadowy figure that emerged from an alcove before him.

'Potter.'

His heart leapt to his throat. 'Hello Wren.'

'You can't be heading to bed already. It's barely gone seven.'

'I'm tired,' he mumbled in reply.

'Don't care. Enchanting. Now.'

James froze. The others had clearly stated to stay away, and after what they had seen in the past few weeks, James was inclined to agree. But if he went alone… He got the feeling that, without coming out and saying it, Rain had wanted to know more about what he had seen. After all, it had concerned her as much as he or Holly. If he'd just known who or what Renshaw was sending these Guardians after, they might have a better idea of how to act. He looked up and down the corridor, but it was empty.

'The others are sick, but I'll come. I think I'm getting the hang of it.'

'Very well. You might be the only one with an ounce of promise.'

Making sure none of his friends were about to round the corner and see them, James fell in step behind Wren, and they made their way towards the dungeon.