Chapter 21: The Unwitting Pawn and the Self-Styled Knights

James's ears were ringing. That was the first thing he noticed. He could hear sounds – people's voices – but it was as if he was hearing through a tunnel, or underwater. Could one even hear underwater? He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd gone swimming, or paid attention to something like that. He didn't feel wet, though…

Wait… yes, he did. He felt damp, clammy, slightly dirty. There were familiar tones swirling around somewhere in his brain… he thought he might have recognized some of these voices, too.

"James?"

He opened his eyes. It took a moment, but he recognized it by the ceiling. He was in the hospital wing.

"Over here."

James tried to turn his body, until a quick warning added, "Don't roll."

James's left shoulder was throbbing dully, and his arm was bent at an angle that didn't feel all that great. He looked down and, with a jolt, realized his arm was in a sling.

Brynne leaned over him, smiling.

"You took a bit of a fall," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think he's feeling?" Murphy's voice chuckled. "A Bludger smashed his shoulder to bits and he's just now getting his bones back."

Brynne glared at Murphy, and looked back to James, who tried to sit up.

"...Let's see, my neck hurts, my shoulder really hurts, I can't move my left arm, and it's cold in here…. Yeah, could be better."

Brynne laughed.

"You're alive," she said, her voice awash with relief. "Could be worse."

A feeling a bit like swallowing some of Hagrid's piping hot tea coursed through James's body. "Good point."

"…I'll wait," another boy's voice deadpanned. James's right arm, fortunately, was fine, so he rolled to that side and saw his cousin Freddy sitting next to his bed.

"Oh, yeah…" James muttered. "The match. How'd it go?"

Freddy gave a sigh. James's heart sunk. He knew what that meant. "We probably got off easy, really. One-fifty to twenty. Trembley started getting cocky and Sylvia put a couple past him toward the end… but Hatcher got to the Snitch. I swear Hatcher elbowed Scorpius in the face when he reached out but… it didn't get called." He heaved another sigh. "I'm trying to convince myself that it wasn't my fault, but….. just bad luck all around today, I guess…"

"No one's that unlucky," Brynne suddenly commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Freddy asked.

"Brynne," James said firmly, not looking at her. "It's fine."

Freddy seemed to be at a loss for a moment. "Nurse Nadine said you'll be here overnight… and you'll be in a sling for a couple of weeks while that bone strengthens. But you'll make a full recovery. It's just good they didn't get your neck. If that had happened, well… "

"Where's Rodney?" asked James.

"Oh… Nurse Nadine put him right in a few seconds," said Freddy. "Cleaner break than yours. I think he could have come back in, but it's against the rules."

"And where's Greta?"

Freddy sighed. "They'd just let her go before you got here. Now I've got to go face her. That'll be fun…"

He seemed more upset by this fact than that they had lost the match.

"Well, we tried…" he said, mostly to himself.

"It was bad luck," Murphy remarked. "I don't think Cole ever had that many people get hurt on him in one game…"

Freddy sighed, clearly not buying what Murphy was selling, and without a further word he walked away.

Brynne watched him leave sadly. "Bad luck, huh?"

"…So you think it was some sort of hit?" Murphy asked. "I mean… you think someone did this on purpose?"

"Seems like too many coincidences to be an accident," Brynne said. "First Stanford turns up poisoned, and then the other Chaser goes down, and then you…"

"Question is, was this all Quidditch-related? Hufflepuff angling for an easier win?" queried Murphy.

James sat up in the bed with some difficulty. Brynne, as if on impulse, flinched toward him with her arms, but must have decided that her hands could do more harm than good, and stowed them behind her back, swaying as she tried and failed to look innocent. James observed her for a moment and tried not to smile. It was too bad it happened like this, but he was really glad to see her again…

"Something's off about that theory, though," James finally said. "Chasers don't have too much to do with the result of a game unless it's a blowout. If they wanted an easy Quidditch win, why not go after Scorpius? He's our only good Seeker."

"But then Freddy would have just put you in at Seeker since you're the reserve, right?" Murphy asked.

"Like I said," deadpanned James. "Scorpius is our only good Seeker."

Silence.

"At least it was the left shoulder," commented James. "Not my wand arm. I should be alright to do normal school stuff once I get out of here."

"You'll be off the pitch for a few weeks, though," Murphy remarked. "Cole broke his arm his third year. Even though they can mend the bones, it still takes a little bit of time to get the strength back."

"We don't get Ravenclaw until the end of May," James replied. "It doesn't feel good, I know that much. But I can deal with it. It's better than taking one off the head like I did last year. I had headaches for weeks after that match. Where'd you leave him, anyway?"

He looked up at Brynne.

"Who?"

"Bletchley. Knowing you, you probably snuck off and he's just noticed you were gone," James said, smiling in spite of himself.

"Not exactly," Brynne replied. "He said I should probably go – come up here, I mean. I guess he figured there'd be a row if he tried to stop me."

"Well, would there have been?" Murphy asked, probably thinking that James was thinking of asking the same question. Murphy was right.

"Of course there would have been," Brynne said almost defiantly. "I had to at least check to see if my best friend was alive. Nothing against you, Murphy, it's just that—"

"No, you don't have to explain. I get it," Murphy said. This, of course, did not dissuade Brynne from trying to explain.

"No, I mean is… Murphy, you're like… you're chips."

"What?" both Murphy and James chorused. Brynne, seemingly realizing that she had just confused everybody, stuck her tongue in the pit of her jaw while she fished around in her brain for some better words.

"I meant…" she started uncertainly. "You know… fish and chips. Of course, you can have one without the other, but if you're used to having them together, then having just one feels… weird and not complete somehow."

She bit her lip. Murphy put his hand to his temple as if he was suffering from a headache.

"Merlin's cobblers…" Murphy muttered. "That actually made sense. How's that work?"

"Easy," Brynne replied. "We've been around each other too long."

James's eyes became focused on something. A broom – the nonflying variety – had arrived at his bedside along with its companion dustpan, sweeping the floor to the right of his bed clean.

It was at that point that James realized he was missing something.

"Wait… where's…"

"Freddy's got it," Murphy answered. "He wanted to give it to me, but since I can't open your case, it would just be sitting in the open in the room, and only God knows what would happen to it then…"

James breathed a sigh of relief. James didn't believe any of his roommates would steal or sabotage his Cleansweep, but he wouldn't have put it past Cecil Brookstanton to 'borrow' it for a short joyride while James wasn't looking. He'd been eyeing that broom hungrily ever since the day James got it.

"You can't open the case?" Brynne repeated. "James, don't you have a key or something?"

"It's a Flesh Memory Case," James said. He could have sworn he'd explained this to Brynne months ago. Then again, maybe he'd forgotten. Or maybe he'd never gotten around to it.

"Really?" asked Brynne, raising her eyebrows. "Those are an arm and a leg, I've heard."

"Brynne." Murphy's voice was flat, and he had a look in his eyes like he was about to tell Brynne something she should have known already. "His dad's Harry effing Potter."

Brynne smiled and bit her lip. "Point taken." She turned to James. "I forget about the whole 'famous family' bit sometimes…"

"Is that good or bad?" James asked. There was a short, metal handrail on the side of the bed – presumably to keep fidgety sleepers from rolling off the bed and injuring themselves further on the hard tile below. At the moment, though, Brynne was using it as an armrest as she leaned down (not very far at her height) and looked James right in the eye. James couldn't quite figure out what was going on behind Brynne's blue eyes, and prayed his brown ones were just as unreadable.

"I'm gonna… get going," Murphy murmured very suddenly. "Serra's expecting me for lunch. Try to get some rest, J.P."

"…Broken arm, wicked hard beds," James reviewed his situation. "I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises."

Murphy smiled, heading toward the door.

"…You going, too?" James asked Brynne. He cursed himself mentally, musing over how needy his question had sounded.

"Not right now," she said.

She pulled up the chair on the other side of the bed and sat in it. She fidgeted uncomfortably.

"God, these things are hard," she groaned.

"Madam Pomfrey doesn't believe in guest visits," James replied succinctly. Looking up and around the room, he mentioned, "Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't come by to kick you out yet."

"I guess even nurses need their lunch," Brynne sighed. "…I don't think the poison that got Greta Stanford was Iris Conrad's idea. She's definitely the one that did it… but I don't think she thought of it. She didn't know what she was doing."

"You're sure now?" asked James. "How's that?"

"…Albus."

"Albus?" repeated James.

"I… sort of went after Iris before the match today," Brynne said, sounding ashamed. "It was a knee-jerk reaction. I was just so paranoid that someone would trace the whole thing back to Slytherin that…" she shook her head. "But Albus got to her first. He was protecting her."

"That makes a difference?" replied James.

Brynne nodded. "You remember how I told you all that time ago about the burglar we had at the Orchard?"

James had to take a moment to remember, but nodded.

"He'd come out to the Orchard about four years ago. I guess I would've been, what… nine?" she said. "We're pretty relaxed about taking in someone that's had a past if they abide by our rules and don't hurt anyone – you know that. And we knew he'd been a crook in a past life, but he seemed alright. He put on a nice face for everyone. He was even nice to Aunt Flora and I… but our neighbors had a Kneazle and she hated him. Sure enough, less than a year later, he tried to rob that house. Of course, you know the rest. He was never seen again."

Kneazles were a magical sort of cat breed. Aunt Hermione had owned a cat that was part-Kneazle, according to Harry – but he had died before James was born. She and Uncle Ron never got another pet. Uncle Ron wasn't much a fan of cats. And Hugo was apparently allergic to them, which didn't help.

"…I'm confused. What does a Kneazle have to do with anything?"

"They say Kneazles have almost a sixth sense when it comes to people's intentions," Brynne explained. "They can tell between people that mean well and people that don't – better than humans, sometimes…"

"…So you're saying…" James said uncertainly. "You're saying that since Al trusts her…."

Brynne nodded.

James shook his head and smiled. "So what have we learned today? Murphy's a bunch of chips, I'm apparently fish, Albus is the ugliest cat breed on earth, and breaking your shoulder does, in fact, hurt like hell."

He managed to make Brynne laugh; that made him feel a bit better.

In the ensuing silence, a rather loud, low, creaky sound issued from somewhere in Brynne's vicinity. She promptly blushed as red as her hair, grabbing hold of her stomach. "I guess I'd better get something to eat."

She bit her lip again, appeared ready to say something; then she started to walk off.

"Wait," James blurted out.

Brynne turned around. For a moment, James said nothing. For a long moment. An almost hilariously long moment.

"…Thanks… for coming up here, I mean."

Brynne didn't smile. "Why?" she asked. "You'd do the same thing if it was the other way around, right?"

James's stare back at Brynne was sad. "I hope I would… I hope we don't have to find out."

"You're right…" Brynne replied. She did leave James with a half-smile before walking out.

He was alone now, left to contemplate his failure…. A failure that had nothing at all to do with Quidditch.

"Damn it, James… just spit it out already…"

Albus

The halls of Hogwarts felt strangely empty as Albus started his trek across the castle. He had no idea of the time at this point; he only knew that he had been walking long enough for his feet to hurt. He already had an uneasy feeling about what would await him at Gryffindor Tower. It occurred to him that maybe he should go somewhere else; except that people always managed to find him when he was hiding. It was no good. He would just have to go up there and face whatever happened.

"Albus?" A scratchy, gravelly, heavily accented grunt of a voice called him.

Albus fell into shadow, looked left, and barely managed to stop himself from soiling his trousers in shock. He had missed Hagrid standing there right next to him, and Hagrid was a very, very big someone to miss standing anywhere.

"You doin' alrigh'?" Hagrid asked. Albus thought he must have been laughably easy to read.

"I've been better," Albus admitted.

"How's James?" Hagrid asked, his face growing more solemn.

"You heard?" Albus asked.

"I saw," Hagrid replied, and Albus could see a grimace behind Hagrid's bushy brown-and-grey beard. "I don' make it ter every match anymore, but I had some free time today, so…"

Hagrid trailed off.

"Some kind of fall," he said.

"He's alright," Albus replied. "Hurt his shoulder, but the nurses should be able to put that right."

"He's still got all his bones, right?" Hagrid queried – a curious question, Albus thought.

"I guess," Albus, who was obviously no medical expert, replied. "Why wouldn't he?"

Hagrid frowned. "It's just… yer father broke his arm when he was abou' James's age an'… never mind. Boring story, 'least when I tell it. So, James is fine, that's good…. what's botherin' yeh, then?"

Albus shook his head.

"Not in any sort o' trouble, are yeh?"

"Not sure," Albus said. "I don't think I've done anything wrong."

"What do yeh mean by that?" Hagrid asked.

"I stood up for someone," said Albus. "Someone everybody else thinks did something terrible."

"Mmm… that's not a bad thing," Hagrid said, sounding certain. "But you're worried abou' what everyone else will think."

"Well… yeah," confessed Albus. "Especially now that Gryffindor's lost. There's this girl in Ravenclaw… you probably don't know her, but… she's kind. Wouldn't hurt a fly. But a lot of players on the team are sure she slipped something into our Quidditch captain's drink last night to make her sick. I know… half the team, really. James, Scorpius, Sylvia, Freddy… McLaggen, too. Sylvia definitely thinks she did it. I don't know about Scorpius and the others."

Hagrid took all this in, waited for a long moment. "Yer dad ever tell yeh abou' Buckbeak?"

"I've heard the name before," Albus said – 'overheard' was more like it. Albus had never bothered to press the issue and ask exactly who or what a 'Buckbeak' was.

"Hippogriff – probably the closest thing I had ter a favorite pet when yer parents were in school," Hagrid replied. "Now, one thing abou' hippogriffs, they're proud. You've got ter approach 'em a certain way or… well, they get angry. An' you don' want a hippogriff angry at yeh… sharp talons an' all… Well, one of the boys in my old class was a real piece of work. Got right up inter Buckbeak's face, called 'im a great ugly brute. You can imagine, ol' Buckbeak didn' take too kindly ter that. Gave 'im a good swipe. Next thing I know, 'is old man gets inter the whole mess and the Ministry's got Buckbeak up fer the worst."

"The worst?" repeated Albus. Hagrid drew a finger across his throat.

"I tried to protect him, of course…" Hagrid said. "Went all the way ter London to give my case. Your Aunt Hermione helped me look all the laws up. But I'm not nearly as clever as her, o' course, an' me being half-giant… the Ministry wasn' as accepting of that sort o' thing back then, so that was a mark against me already. Not ter mention the whole Aragog business, but that's a story for another day… I guess what I'm sayin' is, sometimes yeh know that somebody's innocent. Don't back down jus' 'cause it's not popular, or people look at yeh funny. You do what yeh know is right – an' if yer friends don't like it, well, maybe they're not very good friends."

Albus swallowed hard. He didn't want to think about losing Scorpius and Sylvia as friends. He didn't hate it here, but he certainly would if he was that completely alone. But he didn't want to trouble Hagrid, so he said, "Thanks. I'll remember that."

It sounded almost like something his father would have told him, so he took solace in that as he parted ways with Hagrid and went on alone to Gryffindor Tower.

The common room, as he expected, was subdued and rather empty after the Quidditch loss. The weather outside wasn't bad; Albus supposed a lot of the Gryffindors were outdoors trying to take their mind off things. Rose was at his side before it even occurred to him that she might be somewhere in the common room.

"Al!" she said, rather eagerly for someone that hadn't had a full conversation with him in a couple of days. "I heard about James. Is he alright?"

"Broke his shoulder," Albus said curtly, still looking around the room for Sylvia and Scorpius.

"Scorpius isn't here," Rose said quickly. "I think he went off to the Owlery or something. Said he wanted to be alone. I tried to tell him there's still a chance if you all do well against Ravenclaw, but… he wasn't listening."

He never does when gets into one of his moods, thought Albus. Whether Scorpius thought Iris Conrad had anything to do with Greta being poisoned or not, Albus decided it was probably a bad idea to bring it up at any point in the next day or two. He had almost decided the same thing about Sylvia until he saw the latter making a beeline for him, her face set in a firm line.

"No matter what Rose says," Sylvia said, turning her head toward Rose almost theatrically before setting her eyes on Albus again, "I'm not jealous at all and I don't mind you having other friends I don't talk to. Not even if they're girls."

Albus's jaw unhinged slightly. Wordlessly, he glanced at Rose, who gave him a thoroughly unhelpful "I-have-no-idea-what-she's-going-on-about" look.

"But why Iris?" Sylvia asked insistently. "Why? I can't believe she was hard enough to come down to the pitch to gloat like that."

"She wasn't gloating," Albus finally cut in. "She's just as confused as—"

"Oh, rubbish," Sylvia groaned.

"Calm down," Rose pleaded.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Sylvia spat back at Rose. "Albus, I told you already what she did—"

"Maybe you didn't see what you thought you saw—" Albus tried to reason. Big mistake.

"I may be a lot of things, Albus Potter, but I am not a liar," she said fiercely, poking Albus in the chest.

"Stop it!" Rose shouted, throwing herself between them. "Back off!"

"Don't mess with me, Rose – I'm not in the mood," Sylvia said through her teeth.

Very gently, Albus guided Rose aside with his hands. He saw Rose's look of utter shock and decided, for the moment, not to acknowledge it. Sylvia, though, had more or less the same expression on her face, and he needed to speak to her. Albus measured his words carefully.

"I told you I saw her, Albus," said Sylvia, barely restraining her anger. Her fists were trembling at her sides and Albus wondered if she had it in her to punch him in the jaw on the spot. "There was poison in that drink."

"I'm not saying there wasn't," Albus replied patiently. "But do you really think she put it in there?"

"Who else could have done it?" Sylvia asked.

"Anybody," Albus replied. "Do you have your eyes on your goblet all the time at the table? Turn your head for a second; that's all anyone needs."

Sylvia's face softened for a half-second. Albus knew her too well, though. This battle was not over yet. Sylvia was too proud, too stubborn.

"Why not Ravenclaw?" asked Sylvia. "If not her, than somebody. Hufflepuff got lucky today. I know it, they know it, everybody in Hogwarts that saw that match knows it. Ravenclaw's afraid of us. We're the only real threat to them winning the Cup for a third year running. I don't trust Iris, just for that."

"Trust me, then," Albus said. "I wouldn't lie about something like this. I know Iris gave Greta the goblet. But she's not the one that put the poison into it. She thought she was doing something nice."

"Who do you think did it, then?" asked Rose.

"I don't know," Albus said.

"Who else?" another voice asked. Albus looked up. His face must have betrayed that Stephan Vaisey was among the last people Albus wanted to see right now, because Vaisey took one look at him and deadpanned, "Nice to see you too, Potter."

"This isn't any of your business," Sylvia said.

"The hell it isn't," Vaisey swore, albeit calmly. "It's our House, our Quidditch club… and, by the way, if you're going to have a secret conversation, maybe you lot should do it more quietly, in a place that isn't the Gryffindor common room."

"So, since you're so clever, who do you think is behind this?" asked Sylvia snippily.

"Who can you think of that would have it in for the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Who always has it in for us, hmm? Is it really that difficult?" Vaisey asked. Looking at Albus in particular, he said, "…of course not. You've gotten on board with this daft 'let's be chummy with everyone' rubbish."

"Yes, I try to be nice to everyone," Albus answered, genuinely not seeing what was wrong with this approach.

"Even people that don't deserve it?" Vaisey chuckled. "You're either a saint or an idiot, Potter."

"Hey, watch it," Sylvia said threateningly.

"They've got you worse than anyone," Vaisey replied, looking Sylvia over with almost maddening smugness. "It's what they do. Stab you in the back, and then when you turn around and ask who did it, they're not there. So you blame whoever's closest."

"Wait… you think Slytherin had something to do with this?" asked Rose.

Vaisey rolled his eyes and laughed. "Well, it sure wasn't Hufflepuff."

"I think you're wrong," Albus said firmly. "When I went up to the hospital wing to visit my brother, Brynne Walter was already there."

"Brynne Walter's a weirdo. Everyone knows that," Vaisey said dismissively. "You can't judge all of Slytherin by one or two people."

There was a wheezing sound. Sylvia put her hand to her mouth. Vaisey looked at her, eyes wide as if disbelieving of her nerve.

"Something funny?" he asked. Albus winced.

"Hilarious," Sylvia said with her trademark brutal honesty. Death, fire, and brimstone shot forth from Vaisey's eyes. Sylvia was either the bravest or the thickest person Albus had ever met, he thought. Usually, a glare like the one Vaisey was giving her would be a perfectly understandable reason to turn and run clear in the opposite direction. But Sylvia was standing her ground, her eyes locked on his and not betraying any sign of intimidation.

Vaisey smiled. Sylvia's almost permanent half-smirk slipped for a second, and Albus got the feeling that she was thinking the same thing he was – given the choice between Vaisey's current smile and his previous glare, he would pick the latter every time. "I'd never hurt my own colors… and Desmond's the closest thing I have to a friend in this stupid place."

With that cryptic statement, he walked off toward the common room exit, leaving Sylvia clearly confused.

"What's McLaggen got to do with anything?" she asked.

Albus semi-shrugged his shoulders. Silently, he exchanged glances with the two girls.

"Are we going to go find Scorpius?" Rose asked. "Before it starts raining?"

"Raining?" repeated Sylvia looking at Albus again. "I was thinking more like 'before he does something daft like throwing himself off the top of the Owlery.'"

"That's awful," Rose said.

"It was a joke – relax," Sylvia deadpanned. "Sort of… a joke. You know as well as I do he takes Quidditch way too seriously."

"And you don't?" Rose asked.

"Can we not start this?" Albus asked loudly. Surprisingly, both girls listened to him. Rose, however, started off without the other two.

"God, she's such a drama queen," Sylvia snapped suddenly once Rose was out of earshot, nevertheless following her. Albus wasn't going to argue with Sylvia. She was in a bad enough mood as it was… and, honestly, she may have had a bit of a point.

At least Sylvia and Rose hadn't resorted to threatening each other with hexes.

That was more than could be said for Scorpius.

When he and the girls arrived at the Owlery, Scorpius looked ready for a fight. At the wrong end of his wand was Phillip Bletchley, who was standing next to a frightened-looking girl…

"Iris?" Albus called out. The Ravenclaw second-year looked in his direction. So did Bletchley.

"Oh, Merlin's balls… what are you lot doing here?" Bletchley's eyes hit the ceilng.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sylvia, who was obviously taking Bletchley's aggressiveness as the excuse she needed to start a fight, pulled her wand out. Albus threw a hand in front of her to keep her back.

"I'm bringing her to the Headmaster," Bletchley explained.

"For what?" Albus asked.

"Slytherin needs a patsy to pin the blame on, obviously," Scorpius said, his voice bitter. "Where's Walter?"

"None of your business," Bletchley replied, as if the question had been an insult directed toward him.

Albus didn't say, but he knew the answer; she had been arriving to the hospital wing to see James just as Albus had been leaving. He wondered if Bletchley knew this.

"You can't just… force someone to go where you want them to go!" he exclaimed instead.

"Trust me, I'm not," Bletchley said. Scorpius chuckled mirthlessly. Meanwhile, Bletchley set a surprisingly gentle look on Iris. "You'll come with me and get this whole mess sorted out, won't you?"

"Don't go with him," Scorpius warned.

"I wasn't talking to you," Bletchley said. Looking back toward Iris, he went on, "All I'm looking for is a confession. Then the Heads of House can deal with you, and Slytherin's free and clear. Harmless prank, right? Happens all the time. I'm sure they'll go easy on you if you just come clean."

"He's lying to you," Scorpius said.

"Of course," laughed Bletchley. "You'd love this all to be Slytherin's fault, wouldn't you? Easy excuse for you. Stanford's just a Chaser. Do Chasers really decide a game? It's you that wasn't good enough—"

"Aculeo!" shouted Scorpius, losing his temper. Albus was too busy looking on in shock and horror that he didn't see Bletchley give Iris a hard shove in his direction. She slammed into him and would have knocked him over if he hadn't been able to get his arms around her.

"Expelliarmus!" Bletchley shouted in response. It was just enough to block Scorpius's jinx. The owls in the rafters above began to hoot and bark madly. The dropping-covered Owlery floor gained a new coating.

"Stop it!" Rose shouted.

Bletchley gave her a glance, an ill-disguised look of disgust, and then set his eyes on Scorpius. "Is this how it's going to happen, then?"

"Scorpius, lower your wand," Albus suggested not strongly enough. He also failed to hold onto Iris Conrad quite strongly enough, as the girl was yanked from his grasp rather insistently by Sylvia.

"So he can cheap shot me when my guard's down? I'll pass," Scorpius replied, eyeing Bletchley distrustfully.

Bletchley seemed to consider having a go at Scorpius for a moment, but he reconsidered. "This is a waste of time," he said, lowering his wand but not taking his eyes off Scorpius until he was nearly at the exit. He looked at the girls – at Iris in particular. "People are going to get hurt because you didn't cooperate. I hope you're alright with that."

He made for the doorway, backing out the entire time, likely afraid of someone pulling a wand and jinxing him in the back…

Judging by the look Albus saw on Scorpius's face, Bletchley had the right idea.

"What did he mean, 'people are going to get hurt'?" asked Iris, looking straight at Albus.

"He's just saying things like that to upset you," Scorpius replied dismissively. But his fists were clenched, his face taut.

"Oh…" Iris murmured. "Alright then…"

She started toward the door as well.

"I'm going back to Ravenclaw Tower," she said.

"Alone?" Albus replied. Iris looked back at him, confused.

"I go everywhere alone." Albus didn't know what was more sad – the fact that she said this, or the resigned, matter-of-fact way in which she said it.

"It's not a good idea," Albus replied. "I'll—"

"I'll take her back," Sylvia suddenly piped in. Everyone was surprised at this, especially Iris, who (if Albus was reading her facial expressions correctly) didn't seem entirely thrilled with the idea. Albus contemplated this for a moment. Sylvia had been really eager to give Iris a piece of her mind – and perhaps a bit more than that – less than an hour ago. She must have read the confused expression on Albus's face, though, because she said, "You left James to come to check on us, right? You should probably go back and see how he's doing."

"He'll be alright," Albus said.

"I won't let anything bad happen," Sylvia said rather insistently.

Albus nodded, and watched the two girls leave. Five, ten seconds of silence, and Albus made up in his mind to follow them, but then—

"You shouldn't have done that. What if you get into trouble now?"

Albus cringed. Rose, despite her best intentions, had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

"You think he'll go tell Ambrose or something? I'm sure he wants everyone to know that he was up here to kidnap Iris," Scorpius replied sarcastically.

"Kidnap?" repeated Rose. "Isn't that sort of a strong—"

"What else do you call it when you try to take someone somewhere they don't want to go?" replied Scorpius.

Rose frowned. "But it's got nothing to do with that. You're thinking about what Bletchley said to you… it's only a game."

Scorpius swallowed hard. "You just don't get it, do you? You're never going to get it."

"I get that you're obsessed. I get that," Rose bit back. "You live and die with every match. What if… what if you get hurt?"

Scorpius scoffed. "Don't pretend you give a damn whether I get hurt or not. Your own cousin's laid up in the hospital wing with a broken arm and you haven't even gone up to see him."

"I don't mean 'hospital wing' hurt," Rose said. "I mean, really hurt. Hurt badly enough that you couldn't play anymore. What will you do then?"

"I don't know. You tell me," Scorpius replied. "Get N.E. in every bloody subject in Hogwarts has and go work for the Ministry? They wouldn't have me. You know that. Quidditch is the only place I can go in Britain where it doesn't matter that my last name is Malfoy. As long as we're winning, nobody cares. That's why I have to keep winning."

"You don't know that," Rose said. "Al and I don't care that your name's Malfoy… maybe by the time we're all grown up and out of school, no one else will, either."

Scorpius almost smiled.

"I'd say it was about a hundred-foot drop," he said, walking toward her. "When you fell during Flying lessons last year, I mean. And I caught you, right?"

Rose bit her lip and lived up to her name, her cheeks going pink as she glanced down at her shoes. "I don't suppose we'd be standing here talking about it if you hadn't. This isn't about that, is it? That you think I'm not grateful? Because I really am… I don't know how I could let you know how much…"

"I do," Scorpius said. By this time, he was on her side, facing opposite her and not meeting her eye. "Remember I was born for this… and don't ever, ever, say to me that it's 'just a game.'"

He left the Owlery without looking back. Rose swallowed hard, looking flustered as Albus walked toward her.

"Your face is all red," he pointed out.

"It's… it's hot in here," she answered. Albus disagreed; he thought it was actually quite chilly.

Silence.

"You see my point, right?" Rose asked very feebly, almost as if sure that he would answer that he did not. "I just… I don't know. I worry about him. I think he'd go mad if he never became a great Quidditch player."

"I think he's a bit mad already," Albus conceded. "That's why I root for him to win every match."

Rose looked up at him. "You think that helps him?"

Albus usually never discussed anything with the girls that was said in the privacy of the boys' dormitory at night. After all, given some of the things Scorpius knew, it could backfire – spectacularly. This time, though, it was worth the common peace to relax that rule. "He says it does."

Rose bit her lip again, looking vulnerable, and asked him a question that he hadn't heard from her in almost a year and a half. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure," Albus said… although he was reasonably certain that he knew what this secret was already.