PHILOLOGUS by: P.P.V.V.

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaimer Applies.

AN: This chapter has a lot of action in it, so please fasten your seatbelts. I hope this appeases some reading hunger.

Onward.

Previously:

Sleep was tugging at Lily's consciousness, probably due to the medicine that the nurse had given her.

Reluctantly she gave in to its call, and she watched through a hooded gaze as James absently brought her hand up to rest on his cheek. "Go on and sleep." He whispered, reassuringly. "I shall not burden you with troubling thoughts. I ask only that you allow me to stay here, by your side."

She fell asleep to the sound of his voice and the gentleness of his touch.

CHAPTER 21

- Accusations -

On the last day of exams, there seemed to be a wave of relief in the air of the Academy grounds. Added to that, the spirit of festivity was back – every corner of the school seemed to be covered in garland and decorations.

In the Main Hall a large Christmas tree stood, decorated elaborately in ornaments of the different House Colors. There was one in the Dining Hall as well, and it seemed to boost everyone's mood during breakfast.

Except for James.

Oh, there was no doubt that he was happy to see the exams coming to an end. However, he had been stopped in the hallway before the meal by Professor Tibbald.

"Sir James, might I have a word with you?" The man asked.

James hung back, his grip on his book back tightening. "Of course, Professor." His friends went on ahead and the former Elite fell in to pace with the elder man.

"I have noticed a decline in your performance, lately." The Professor began. "You scored very poorly on your History Exam. I was quite surprised."

"Professor, I - "

"- Is there something the matter?"

James let out a frustrated breath. "No, sir, there isn't." He lied.

Professor Tibbald looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Is it possible that you no longer have the desire to become an Elite?"

"Of course not, sir." He answered, quickly. "I just…I have been trying." He knew he wasn't making any sense, and he looked back at his elder helplessly.

The Professor didn't look convinced. "Whatever it is that you are preoccupied with, you have got to block it out and focus on your task; even if you must force yourself to perform as you have in the past. It's all in here." He gently poked James' forehead. "I'd hate to see all your work go to waste. You were a great candidate for a Philologus – I look forward to seeing you rise to that position some day."

For some reason, a lump formed in James' throat. "It's too late now, Professor." He said, with great difficulty.

"It's never too late, my boy."

James blinked and he spread his hands in defeat. "My chances are botched. Adversity has tried me and I was unable to rise to the challenge."

They stood silent, and James looked away, the truth of his words sinking in.

There was no way he could become an Elite now.

Professor Tibbald cleared his throat. "I believe that character is the most important part in any position. Giving up is too easy. I say you face whatever it is that is stopping you and then push yourself to continue."

The boy ran a hand through his hair. "It's not so easy….." He hesitated and then ventured, "Professor…what if…a person is unable to quite face another person?"

The man seemed to ponder about that for a moment. "Well, I suppose, that person will always live in the shadow of the other." He laid a hand on James' shoulder. "If you'll excuse me." He bowed slightly and walked away, leaving James alone to think about what had been said.

Finally, James clenched his fists and straightened.

He'd be damned if he lived in anyone's shadow!

He was tired of thinking about the problem. He had always prided himself in the fact that he was rather good at figuring them out and fixing them. Even though Peter had told him not to do anything rash, the Professor was right: his character did not allow him to sit idly.

What he needed to do was to confront Aleksey.

Taking a deep breath to calm the feeling of rage that began to bubble up to the surface, James strode toward the Dining Hall, purposefully, and let himself back inside.

Passing the table where his friends sat, he moved over to the far end of the room where the Russians were having their morning meal. Lucius was present at the table too and he looked up when James stopped by Aleksey's side. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" The Gryffindor asked, ignoring Lucius all together.

Aleksey seemed indifferent about the sudden situation, and he shrugged, getting up. He was bulky and he lumbered when he walked, following James out of the Dining Hall.

"I have a feeling you don't like me very much, do you, Mr. Potter?" Aleksey asked once they were outside.

Talk about direct.

Well, he could be direct too.

"No, I don't." James said, bluntly. At Aleksey's confused look, he continued, speaking quickly – he was going to lose his control over his emotions. "I'll be honest with you, sir. I have reason to believe you raped my sister."

Now the look of confusion turned to a look of stunned disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

James ignored his chagrin. "My sister has gone through a great ordeal, sir. I have no choice but to rely on her word."

"Sir James, I would never…..I have never…." The man spluttered. "I swear to God that I have never been with another woman in that way…much less…"

"Until I have proof, I will neither accuse you, nor will I be any less suspicious." The former Elite cut in. "If you are innocent, then you will forgive me my straightforwardness and oblige me my ideas."

His next words were harsh and angry. "If you are not, then I promise you, I will show you how justice wields wrath."

0-0-0-0-0

She had finished her exams at last. Now, she could concentrate on her last task. There was still so much to do and she was running out of time – they would not want any more set backs and she had had quite a lot of them.

She had the information now, but the only problem was putting a strategy into play. So far, she had been successful in luring out that Falco boy and she gotten rid of the Headmaster. She had been successful in hiding the intruder too, but she had barely managed that.

Her last task was the hardest of them all, and it was infuriating with the way Peter always seemed surrounded. She knew that his friends were probably oblivious to everything that was happening – everyone but James Potter. The man was smart, she had to hand it to him.

Sometimes too smart.

She would have to be very careful around him.

Looking around, she quickly scanned the Drawing Room. It was empty, the only other companions in the room with her were the furniture and the windows that were open slightly, letting fresh air in. She closed them as she walked by, locking them firmly before taking a last look around.

There was a grand piano in the room, its huge skulking figure a silent shadow. She skirted it and made her way behind the pillars. There, under a tapestry that held the Academy Crest, a small trap door lay, invisible against the cream-colored walls. She had taken pains to find that tunnel – she was fairly certain that no one knew of its existence.

Confidently, she pushed it open and crawled inside. It was dark, but she had placed a flashlight just within the passage so this she picked up and used to fumble her way through the narrow strip.

It climbed downward and after a few minutes, she could stand up straight. The passage widened to a small cave-like room and that room opened up to another series of tunnels that led directly to dungeons where her impatient spy waited.

He seemed in a terrible mood that day because the minute she walked in, he pinned her against hard walls making her gasp.

"You – it's been three days!" He growled. His breath was warm against her ear.

"I'm sorry!" She panted. "I told you, I had examinations and I just couldn't miss them or they'd find out."

The hold on her upper arms tightened and she winced. "We can wait no longer." He hissed. "By this time I should be letting them in. If they get impatient, there's no telling whose life will be in danger."

She struggled against him. "You promised you wouldn't hurt anyone any more."

"We won't have to if you hold up your part of the bargain. But my patience has just about run out."

Angrily, she pushed at him and he let go, in surprise. "Well, you can tuck your patience back in: I found a way to infiltrate the Academy. Now you must let my Father go, as well as Master Dumbledore."

She could see a grin make its way across the man's face at her words. "Soon, and in time, we will hold to our end of the bargain. When we get the boy, we will hold them no longer."

A sinking feeling filled her chest. What was she getting herself into? But she couldn't let her father get killed! She couldn't back down now…she had made a deal and had begun the dangerous gamble that they now played.

All she had left to do was deliver Peter to them and it would end everything. Of course, every time she had asked why they wanted him of all people, her spy would never answer her.

She had gone so far as to research Peter's history, but to her surprise and disappointment, she had found nothing on him except for the details of his condition and his illness.

The family name of Pettigrew drew up blank data.

That in itself was a puzzlement.

All she knew was that Peter was incredibly smart – a genius in fact – and that he was expecting a Liver Transplant.

"What will you do with Sir Peter?" She asked, boldly.

"We will not hurt him." The man said. "He's vital to our plans."

She took a deep breath. Surely if they wanted him, they knew of his condition too. Finally, she nodded and the man leaned closer. "All right," she finally said. "I'll tell you how to infiltrate…"

0-0-0-0-0

Lily hurried down the hallway, straightening her frock around her waist. In the short time she had spent in the hospital wing, she had lost a lot of weight and her dress seemed a little looser now.

She had been let out at last, her fever completely gone. Her body still felt drained, three days later. It couldn't be helped though: as Master Edmund had given her permission to participate in the Exams she had had to cram them into those three days as opposed to having a full week to write them.

She didn't mind. In fact, when it came to the written parts, she did them quite confidently. She wasn't too keen on her dancing however, and she tried to calm the butterflies that seemed to be jumping in her stomach as she moved toward the Gymnasium.

If she had been looking up, she would have managed to avoid a painful collision all together, but as it was, her attention was riveted to the material at her waist so she crashed headlong into a figure.

Falling back, Lily landed – hard – on her bottom, and she let out a painful cry.

"I'm so sorry!" A deep voice was saying, when the pain let her register another thought.

Shaking her head, Lily glanced up to see a man dressed in a tan-coloured suit bending down and offering his hand to help her up. Embarrassed, she took it and he hoisted her to her feet.

Quickly smoothing down her skirt, she blurted, "I'm really sorry, sir…I wasn't looking where I was going."

The man's face was puckered into a worried frown. "Are you hurt?"

She checked herself for any injuries and she shook her head. "I'm fine…" At that, the worried look seemed to ease but he still looked apologetic.

"You're a student here at this Academy?" He asked.

"Yes…" She answered, cautiously. Wasn't that obvious? "I was on my way to an examination."

He put a finger to his lip in thought. "An examination…"

She supplied, "The Elite Exams, sir."

A grin spread on his cheeks. "Ah, yes! I thought they were done with?"

Lily pulled the sleeve of her dress down. "They are."

"Excellent - I was just on my way to the Headmaster's Office. He's been expecting me, you see."

Now she peered at him again, taking in his professional attire and his lean figure. He was old – not as old as Dumbledore, but old enough to fit the picture of a grandfather. But when she looked closer, she realized that he was just a little older than her own father, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes were probably due to stress. He looked rather tired too, now that she thought about it.

Realizing that she had been staring, she quickly asked, "A-are you a Professor?"

He regarded her for a moment before holding out his hand. "Peter Matheson. And you are?"

"Lily Evans." She said, taking it again for the second time that day and shaking it firmly. "Sorry again."

He chuckled. "No, it's quite all right." He said. "Are you doing a make up examination of some sort?"

Lily nodded. "I was sick for a little while, and the Master made an exception for me so I plan to take full advantage of it."

Professor Matheson's small eyes twinkled. "Oh? I was of the impression that Ladies did not wish to participate in State Affairs."

"Ladies are quite capable of handling State Affairs." Lily protested. "The King has a notion that they aren't, so naturally the Ladies comply."

The man coughed politely. "And what, pray tell, gives you thought that His Majesty would think such a thing?"

Now she looked at him in surprise. "Sir, the Philologi are comprised solely of men. Surely you know all about them, seeing as how everyone seems to covet the spot. If His Majesty really thought Ladies could help run the country, why hasn't there been a woman on the ring of the Elites since its conception?"

At that, Professor Matheson laughed. "You've thought this over carefully, haven't you, my Lady?"

Lily blushed. "It sounds forward, I know…but it's always puzzled me. This time around, I want to show the King that he's wrong."

They had begun walking down the hall slowly, and the dying sun cast long shadows behind them. By that time, festivities were no doubt being held in the separate Houses, marking the end of the school term and the beginning of the Holidays.

"Has it ever occurred to you," the Professor said after a while, "that running a country is not exactly the most enjoyable job?"

It was Lily's turn to laugh. "Professor, there are a lot of things that aren't fun and yet, we still do them. Take for example, homework. It's something that needs to be done – not because students want to, but because students have to in order to learn.

"Running a country may not be enjoyable, but there is a need to because…" she turned to face him, "…because there are people to help and people to guide. That's what being a Philologus is really about – the desire to help because you love people. Not because of the status it would bring you or the wealth that you'd attain."

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "You'd make a fine candidate." He said, at last. "I'm sure the King would love to have you on the ring."

Lily looked down at her dress. "Well, the King hasn't seen how terribly I dance." She said, lightly.

Professor Matheson glanced at his watch then, another chuckle rumbling in his throat. "Heavens, I have kept you from your examination. Pray excuse my interruption."

"I can still make it if I run." She told him.

"Then off you go," he said. "I hope to meet each other again soon. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Lily."

She returned the formality before setting off. She decided she liked Professor Matheson. Somehow, he had had a very nice disposition and had been easy to talk with. She hoped that somewhere along her stay at the Academy she'd be able to have the opportunity to be taught by him.

This time around, she bumped into James, who seemed pleased to see her. "Lady Lily, good evening," he bade.

"Good evening." She answered, automatically. "How is your sister?"

"She seems to be in better spirits." He said, happily. "Are you quite done with your examination?"

"One more to go." Lily told him. "I'm on my way to it, actually."

"Then may I take the liberty of walking with you?" He asked, raking a hand over his hair.

She blushed at his alluring smile and forced herself not to look him in the eye. She managed a casual nod and mentally she congratulated herself for being nonchalant. He fell into step with her and he eagerly said, "I don't know what you said to Lady Celena, but I thank you for it."

"I told her to slap that Aleksey bastard for all she was worth when she got the chance." Lily said, darkly. "He deserves so much worse."

"So, you believe her?" James asked, choosing to ignore her vehement language.

"Of course." Lily said, sounding surprised. "She says that his face haunts her dreams every night. I don't know about you," she opened the door to the Gymnasium as she spoke, "but that's not something so easily forgotten. Don't doubt her, Sir James – she needs you to believe her the most."

The Gymnasium was dark and empty. Somehow, without students present, it made the room seem eerie and Lily quickly cast about for the lights.

The floors shone brightly under the illumination when she managed to flick them on – it almost looked like someone had placed a layer of glass on top of the hard wood. Cautiously, she stepped inside. It seemed she was early.

James voiced her thoughts, looking about himself. "Perhaps the Madam has forgotten?" He suggested, stepping in as well. His voice rang through the hollow room.

"I don't think so. I spoke with her at dinner and made arrangements." Lily said, taking the opportunity to fix her dance slippers. They weren't the most comfortable things in the world – and probably never would be since she had no desire to dance any more than she had to – but they served their purpose. Her footsteps were a whisper against the floor as she moved.

James watched her silently as she wandered the huge room. "I'm a little nervous." She admitted, looking in the mirror against the wall. It stretched through the whole room, giving the appearance that the room was bigger than it actually was. "I don't know how to dance, remember?"

"Neither do I." He murmured, keeping his gaze locked on her.

She was beautiful.

He couldn't help but stare. When she turned her head to look back at him, his heart seemed to leap up into his throat and he desperately tried to find something to distract him. "I never did have the chance to show you how bad I was at the Masquerade." He wryly said.

Playfully, Lily bat her eyelashes at him. "Are you trying to say you'll show me now?"

"A fair trade, my Lady," he said, returning the banter with a half-grin. "We'll see who is the worse of our company in the sport."

He held out his hand, invitingly.

She looked down at it, and then lifted her eyes up to his at last. He's serious, she realized. His gaze was intense and it was making her feel tense. "W-we don't have any music…" she heard herself whispering the protest. Her hand seemed to be moving on its own though as it slowly settled onto his.

Big.

Warm.

A smile lit his features as he drew her close. "Then…we'll have to pretend…" he was whispering too, and it made shivers run down her spine. "We will dance to the music I play."

For a moment, neither of them moved, and then, he began to lead, humming a tune under his breath. She recognized it as a piece they had learned during their classes. She had never mastered this dance and awkwardly, she followed his pace as he pulled her closer – so close that she could feel his body heat and smell his cologne. She trembled when he slid his hand around her waist and she instinctively glanced down to watch her feet, but he gently lifted her chin clucking disapprovingly. "Relax." He told her and she took a deep breath, concentrating on doing that just that.

As the dance progressed, Lily began to get the hang of it. She loved the sound of his voice, the way he whispered instructions in her ear every now and again, and most especially his laugh. It was so infectious that she found herself joining in.

Neither of them were aware of the door opening, or of their spectator who watched them waltz as if they had rehearsed this piece a hundred times.

Their laughter filtered through the room, and the two would have continued through the night if Madam Hooch did not clear her throat politely.

Lily checked herself and quickly pushed away from James, feeling her cheeks heat. She was certain that her face matched the color of her hair. "M-Madam Hooch! I…we…I mean…"

James seemed speechless and the dancing instructor finally entered, a knowing smile spreading on her face. "That was splendid." She said, addressing Lily. "I must admit that I never saw you perform that piece quite as well as you did tonight. Perhaps," she looked to James who was self-consciously raking a hand through his hair, "it all depends on the partner you choose."

She looked at Lily again. "I must also admit that I've never seen that dance performed with as much grace as I witnessed tonight. I insist you two to perform it on the night of the Festival."

"Madam Hooch, I pray you spare me the embarrassment." James said, now looking genuinely uneasy.

But Madam Hooch waved her hand. "Nonsense, Sir James. You are a wonderful dancer, unless you mean to tell me that I am not qualified in the subjects that I teach to know talent when I see it?"

"N-no ma'am…" he stuttered, "but…"

"Then it is settled!" Madam Hooch announced. "I will lay the suggestion to the Master."

Lily was completely at a loss as to what was going on. She could see that Madam Hooch had made up her mind and nothing James would say could change it. Wanting to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere that built up, she took a step forward, her fingers clenching themselves in the material by her waist. "Madam Hooch…Sir James was just keeping me company until you arrived to assess me for my final examination." She began, twisting her fingers together as she spoke.

Madam Hooch nodded, her big silver-hooped-earrings flashing as she did so. "I've done my assessment." She said, waving her hand as if to pass whatever else Lily had to say. "You danced wonderfully – simply excellent."

"Then…I'm free to go?" Lily asked, not daring to believe that she had somehow managed to pass without trying.

"Yes, yes, of course." Madam Hooch said, waving her hand again, this time in dismissal. "Sir James, if I may have a word."

Poor James looked absolutely terrified. He gave Lily a sidelong glance and she couldn't help but giggle at his expression. He gave a small resigned bow, saying, "Professor."

"About the Festival then…"

0-0-0-0-0

Lily pushed herself away from the wall as James exited the Gymnasium at last. He didn't seem surprised to see her there; it was almost as though he expected it. He paused momentarily so that she could gather her things and catch up.

"What's the Festival?" Lily asked. She had already changed from her dancing shoes to her normal ones and she looked happy for it.

"It's a Spring Time activity." James said, starting forward. "The whole Village participates and Master Dumbledore liked to hold certain Academy events. It's kind of like a free day to relax - he often liked to have celebrations in an attempt to ease our stress levels."

So she had heard.

"Are there rides?" She asked, struggling to keep up with his long strides. He seemed to notice and he slowed his pace.

"A few." He answered, absently. "There are games and challenges and lots and lots of food."

Lily laughed. "Well, I could use a bit of that."

He seemed to loosen up a little. "I'm glad to see that you are better now." He noted.

"A whole lot better." She agreed. "Now that the exams are over, I plan to take a nice long rest." She touched his arm. "I wanted to thank you…I know that without your help I wouldn't have passed that last exam."

James scowled good-naturedly. "Well, I'm no better off for it." He said, with a groan. "I must now perform at the Festival."

"You won't have to do it alone." She pointed out. "We'll both make fools of ourselves. Then we'll really see who the worse in the sport, is sir."

They made their way down the empty hallway towards their House, chatting amiably about the upcoming Holidays. James invited her to stay at his Estate for a little while since she had told him that she would be staying at the school. "Lady Celena would be pleased." He added.

She was about to respond when they caught sight of a figure leaving the Headmaster's room from down the hall. She recognized him instantly.

Professor Matheson.

He saw her and raised his hand in salute. Lily waved back, enthusiastically.

"Who is he?" James asked. His eyesight wasn't the greatest and the figure was too far away for him to make out a face.

"It's a new instructor." Lily told him. At his dubious look, she said, "Remember, Lady Minerva did mention that we were going to have a lot of changes." She turned her attention to the advancing teacher. "He's really nice." Without waiting for James, she began to walk forward, meeting with the Professor midway down the hall.

"How did you do?" He asked kindly when she reached him. His tan coat was draped over one arm, and Lily could see a fine chain of a pocket watch hanging out of his breast pocket.

"I passed." She said. "Now, it's only a matter of time before we see who becomes an Elite and who doesn't."

He winked. "I'm looking forward to hearing your name called." He said, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. "You wouldn't happen to know where the Humanities Branch is, do you?"

"It's four flights up the Grand Staircase." She said, motioning in the general direction. She wondered what business the man had with the Hufflepuffs, but she didn't ask.

The thought went completely out of her head a few moments later, though.

James, who had finally caught up, stopped dead in his tracks a few steps away. All color seemed to drain from his face and the stranger looked to him curiously.

Lily, oblivious to her companion's reaction, led the Professor over to him, taking the elder man by the arm. "This is Sir James Potter," she was saying, eagerly. "He was once an Elite before Master Edmund began the new system."

The Professor made a neutral sound and Lily turned to James. "Sir James, this is Professor Matheson."

James' face suddenly gained color, his cheeks turning red when she introduced him. She didn't know, however, that he was embarrassed for her actions and nothing else. He dropped to a knee and put his fist over his heart.

Surprised by the gesture, Lily took a step forward. "What…?"

"My Lady," James said, gravely, "That man is no Professor."

"He's not?"

She turned to face Professor Matheson who was watching the whole exchange calmly with a small smile on his face. His hands were clasped behind his back and she realized with a sinking feeling what her mistake had been.

A blush of her own spread on her cheeks as James confirmed it. "He is the King of England."

To Be Continued….

AN: Oh, the irony of it all. I hope you enjoyed it. Yay for L/J goodness! I look forward to reading your thoughts in your reviews, so please do me the favour of leaving one before you exit the window.

Thanks for reading, see you in two weeks,

-P.P.V.V.