Into an empty classroom, James, Tristan and Cat were marched. Alabaster Shelby kept an iron grip on James' shoulder, digging his fingers into deep gouges left by the Goldeneyes that still leaked blood through his t-shirt. James' leg could barely support his weight. He tried to avert his gaze from the ragged gash in his jeans and the soft, wet, red flesh that was exposed beneath. He stumbled as they crossed the threshold to the room, and had to be forcibly thrown into a chair.

The shackles on their wrists leapt out to bind each of them to the chair upon which they sat. James felt manacles close tightly around his ankles, biting into skin above his muddied, ruined trainers.

Merriweather, Shelby and the two nameless Ministry Watchers filed in to the room. Of the students, only Caspar was allowed to enter. The door slammed shut behind them with an air of finality. A squelching sound, and the chanting and jeering from the students of the Glorious Sacrifice was instantly sealed off. James didn't want to think too hard on whether the spell was meant to keep the outside sound out, or the inside sound in…

'It's the ennnd of the road for you three,' Calantha Merriweather drawled. Her voice practically quivered with excitement. The hand she held to her breast was actually shaking. 'Your parents were no match for mmme, Potter. What made you think that you would be the same? What made you think you could possibly stage any kind of coup under the watchful gaze of your benign and just MMMinistry of Magic-'

'We weren't-!'

'Summoning foul beasts with which to attack the Castle-'

'We didn't-!'

'Using Dark Magic, no doubt. Oh, the punishment for that will be mmmost severe… But first, we'll need to take some of your blood.'

'What?!'

All three of them struggled against their bonds as Alabaster Shelby approached, transfiguring three small, glass phials from a stack of parchment nearby.

'Oh, yes. Dark magic, unfortunately, necessitates a rather… uncomfortable punishment. It's rather a dated little ritual… frowned upon, more than actually outlawed. Mmm…but I've been telling them to bring it back for years. And I think the crime is deserving.'

'What bloody crime?!' Tristan yelled, jerking and writhing fruitlessly against the iron chains that held him.

'Potter killed Dannil!' Caspar roared, lunging to the fore. He swung a wild punch at James' face, but Shelby was quick enough to catch him before it landed.

'Steady, on, young Caspar. Not yet.'

'What are you talking about?' James sneered. He winced as Shelby cut an incision in his forearm, and eyed the thick pool of blood that welled up and obediently flowed forth into the glass phial.

'You, on that- that monster!' Caspar spat. 'You attacked Dannil! You- you tore him apart.'

James was too stunned to speak. Caspar's eyes were wild and feral. Though James knew for certain he'd done no such thing, he could also tell Casper was adamant he was telling the truth. There could be no faking that animal fear. Back on the clifftop, there had been a moment where James was knocked senseless upon the Goldeneye's back. Could it be…?

Oh, by the Founders, what had he done?

'It's okay, Caspar. Darling, you're safe now.' Calantha Merriweather lay an arm around her son's shoulders, glaring absolute murder at James.

There was absolutely no way they would explain themselves out of this one. And with his father somewhere in France, with no way to reach him, he couldn't count on anybody to come save the day.

Far above them, somewhere in the heart of the castle, a low, thunderous rumble sounded. It sounded like a toll of mourning, perhaps, for James and his friends.

'The rest of your lot are being rounded up as we speak,' Shelby sneered, stoppering the last of the three phials, job now complete. 'We assume you were all complicit.'

James didn't even waste his breath on arguing. After what Caspar had witnessed, there was no way he could convince them of the truth. Some threshold, some hitherto unbreakable barrier had been shattered, allowing a descent into utter madness on the part of their captors. There were no words on the planet that could bring the three of them back now.

Another ponderous groaning sound came from above them, like a great groan from the chest of a giant. It reverberated through the walls and the floor, even up through the legs of James' chair.

Suddenly, the door to their room burst open, smashing against the wall with ferocity.

Professor Longbottom stood there, framed by the last of the evening light, a dark expression upon his face.

Of course! Professor Longbottom could still save them!

'I hear you are holding two of my students captive, without my knowledge or permission, Calantha.'

'Well yes, professor. You see, they were caught in the act of trying to raise a coup to overthrow the Ministry's hold on Hogwarts. Fearing that their secret would be let out, Potter here attacked – and killed – a fellow student, with a creature summoned by Dark Magic, no less. We are using the authority bestowed upon us by the Ministry as official Overseers to exact a suitable punishment.'

Something switched in Professor Longbottom's face. Some sort of light flickered out behind his eyes, and when he turned to regard James, he suddenly looked overwhelmingly tired.

'Is this true, James?'

'No, professor! We were trying to help our… our old friend! That's all. It's as we spoke about earlier in the year, you must remember!'

'What is this, that he speaks of, Master Longbottom?' Shelby's voice was a threatening growl.

Professor Longbottom looked from James to the Ministry Overseer and back again. His response was calm and measured. 'I haven't the faintest idea.'

James' blood ran cold as their final hope withered and died before them.

With the door hanging broken and ajar, another of the distant rumblings reached them much more clearly. Only, this time, it sounded almost like an explosion with a wave of resonating echoes. Nobody in the room paid it any heed.

'I see you have taken a sample of their blood,' Professor Longbottom continued. 'I presume that is for the Blood-Binding Ritual?'

'It is warranted. The use of what is clearly Dark Magic necessitates Ministry control over their ability to cast spells. We will pursue this course with or without your blessing, Professor, so tread carefully now.'

Professor Longbottom studied Merriweather for a long moment. 'Very well. I find blood rituals barbaric, so you'll not have my blessing, but you have my permission. There is a ritual stone in the caretaker's office. If you give me the blood, I will take it and prepare. We can begin at your leisure.'

'Calantha Merriweather looked a little surprised, but nodded. 'Your assistance is noted, Professor. This is not the first time that you have proved surprisingly… cooperative, so far this year.'

Traitor, James scowled.

Professor Longbottom took the vials of blood, holding them carefully in one hand. Before he left the room, he turned to look back once over his shoulder.

'James, do you still have the rock I gave you? The gift from my mother.'

'Yes,' James spat. 'Never took it out of my back pocket. Though I don't know what that's got to do-'

'You should have held it, and reflected, before you did what you did today. It might have saved you. Keep it with you, for now. It might yet be of some comfort through what is to come.'

And with that, the professor was gone, and any hope James had of salvation went with him.

As if to punctuate the departure, another resounding boom punched through the sudden silence. This one was long and rolling and lasted a handful of seconds. And was noticeably closer to hand.

'What's taking the others so long? Calantha Merriweather growled. 'Rounding up a few brats should be easy.'

'Shall we?' Shelby asked, with a nod towards the door and a pointed look at the two Watchers, both of whom had remained absolutely silent so far – as was their wont.

'Yes,' Calantha drawled. 'I don't think we need to see what is about to happen. Only the end result.'

'But I want to stay,' Caspar pleaded. 'I want to watch.'

'Trust me, darling, you don't.'

With that, the three hurried out, Shelby waving his wand to repair the door behind them as yet another explosion rocked the castle.

James turned to the nearest of the Watchers – the old man.

'Listen, you don't have to-'

He cut off as – without warning – both Watchers grabbed Tristan and Cat by the heads, forcing their gaze upwards.

His friends started screaming and writhing against their bonds. They thrashed back and forth, throwing the whole of their weight against the chains, and the grips of the frail old Watchers.

But they would not be shaken free. James could see ropy tendons standing out on the back of their liver-spotted hands. Their yellowed teeth were set in a rictus snarl. Their eyes, wide open, glowed with a faint, bluish light.

When they pulled away, Cat slumped against the chains that held her, unconscious. Tristan snarled and spat bloody phlegm at the old woman. 'I'll have you for that,' he growled. But there was no force to his claim. He was shaken, empty, spent.

Both, now, turned on James. He felt their hands grip his cheeks. Chipped nails scratched at his skin. The moment his eyes met theirs, the cold dagger of their Legilimency was thrust into his mind, and his world erupted in pain unlike anything he'd felt before.

Images flashed through his mind's eye – scenes of the day just gone. James was swept along in the maelstrom, unable to throw up even the most paltry of defences. He could barely muster enough coherent thought to think good, they'll see we're innocent, as the pain threatened to drive him mad in its all-encompassing embrace.

He saw the group gathered, ready to act. Saw Wren's magic flaring brilliant and powerful in the sky. His father's hand upon her shoulder, lending his strength. Saw Tristan and Cat fighting back, bone-chilling fear writ clearly on their faces. He saw his own mad dash at the Goldeneyes. The scene seemed to froze for a moment, fixated on Rain's Locket-

No!

And then everything shattered around him, and James found himself back in the room, chained to a chair. He briefly wondered if he'd been successful in throwing off the attack, but as his fogged wits slowly coalesced, he came to the realisation that something fundamental had shifted in the atmosphere within their room.

Calantha Merriweather, Alabaster Shelby, and Caspar Helstrom had returned. They were framed in the doorway with wands drawn. The door lay in splinters at their feet. On James' left, Cat stirred feebly, her eyelids fluttering open.

'What have you done?'

Calantha Merriweather's voice was cracked and broken, shot through with something James recognised as panic. He now saw that her bloodshot eyes were wild and wide. Nicks and scratches covered most of her face.

'What have you unleashed?'

'N-nothing', James stammered.

'Lies! I'll have you, boy! Imperi-'

Crash!

Where the wall above them had been standing, only smoking rubble and thick clouds of stagnant dust remained. The Ministry officials were thrown from their feet. James and Tristan both were knocked backwards off of their chairs, so that neither could see who belonged to the set of slow footsteps that were approaching.

'Reckon it's pretty damn rude to be throwing a private party without sending Fred Weasley an invite. Everybody says, I'm always a blast.'

A feeble groan from somewhere to James' right was the only response.

Soft hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and Cassie's face came into view. She banished the chains that held him with a hasty 'Finite!' and set about doing what she could for the worst of his wounds, while Clip worked on freeing Tristan and Cat.

A stirring movement from within the mountain of rubble that had once been a wall caused Fred to stick a finger in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. 'Sick 'em, boys,' he said with a grin.

Heavy, ponderous footfalls followed, and James watched in disbelief as a pair of Hogwarts suits of armour fell upon a struggling Calantha Merriweather, smothering her into submission once more.

'It's an absolute hellstorm out there,' Cassie breathed, shooting Fred a worried look. 'Like the end of the world. It can't be far off than when your father fought Voldemort-'

'Cassie, darling. You flatter me,' Fred said with a playful smile.

'He's got suits of armour, he's got portraits, hell, he's even got torches chasing after these Glorious Sacrifice people. Anything that can be charmed, hexed or jinxed into causing mayhem is going haywire. It's hell, James. Hell, I'm telling you!'

James smiled, prodding at the freshly knitted flesh of his upper thigh. The forced healing left him a little drained and chilled to the core, but otherwise hale. Cassie had even re-set his left elbow, so that only a dull ache remained, a pale shadow of the recent agony.

'You did say to rig the castle top to bottom,' Fred said with a shrug. 'I've been telling you I was ready for weeks now. Don't ever let it be said Fred Weasley does things by halves.'

James allowed himself a chuckle. 'Mate, I think you might actually be certifiably insane.'

They were all on their feet now, a resolute set to their shoulders and a dark glint in their eyes. Even Cassie and Clip held their wands at the ready in firm, determined grips.

James filled them in on the situation with Rain while Tristan riffled through an unconscious Alabaster Shelby's pockets for their wands.

'But how will we get there in time?' Fred asked.

'There's a gatehouse just outside the school grounds,' James told them. 'With a Floo-capable fireplace hooked up to the network. It runs direct to the Ministry. I was taken through it earlier in the year when I was, er, temporarily expelled.'

Cassie, unable to hold out any longer, gasped and rushed in to wrap James up in a hug. 'Oh, thank you, James, thank you,' she whispered over and over. 'We're going to save her!'

'Don't thank me just yet,' he warned. 'The real work hasn't even begun.'

'We should definitely get a move on,' Fred added a little sheepishly. 'At least before that troll statue on the second floor wakes up. I loaded him up with charms from here to Timbuktu but I er… never quite worked out how to switch him off again.'

'Wait,' Tristan said. 'What about Professor Longbottom. He's got our blood. If this lot wakes up and starts the Blood-Binding ritual…'

'We passed the professor on our way down,' Fred added. 'He was headed to Filch's old office.'

'Rain's more important,' James said. 'We've already lost too much time. If the ritual happens… then lets at least hope they wait until we've broken her free.'

Tristan and Cat both nodded gravely.

'Let's go,' James said, striding through the point where the door had once been.

There was only one short stairwell between them and the Entrance Hall. All above them, sounds of chaos echoed throughout the castle. The crack and pop of spellfire, metallic clangs and crashes, ripping, tearing sounds, shattering masonry, and through it all the cry of frantic voices. At this point, James wasn't even sure exactly who the Glorious Sacrifice thought they were fighting. But he was more than happy to leave them to it.

They scurried down onto the lowermost landing of the Grand Staircase. For the first time that day, James acknowledge the small, budding sensation in his chest, growing now that their path through the Entrance Hall was clear. It felt a lot like hope.

'Come on!' he urged, leading the way. He took the steps three at a time, heedless of his newly-repaired leg as he thundered his way to freedom.

The slap of their footfalls beat an uneven, staccato rhythm against the great flagstone floor. But as the rest of the group reached level ground, James spied movement to his left, and all six pulled up together, wands raised and chests heaving, as a figure emerged from the shadows that led down towards the dungeons.

'H-holly?' James stammered, aghast.

She strode out from the darkness and into the late-afternoon light bathing the Entrance Hall, not once pulling her eyes away from James' own. Her long, black hair was tied back in a loose tail. She wore loose, black silks. Billowing trousers bunched at her ankles, and the long sleeves of her shirt left only her hands exposed. Though James didn't spy her wand anywhere, he knew that they were the clothes she wore to fight.

'Where are you going, James?' she asked, calmly.

James' group had frozen in shock upon seeing her. And too late, James realised they'd allowed her to position herself between them and the exit. She stopped and turned to face them, her feet set shoulder width apart, her back to the setting sun that slanted in through the doors left ajar. Holly's shadow stretched out long before her. James took a noticeable step back from where it reached his own feet.

'Listen, Holly, I don't know what you've heard- I don't know what they're saying around the castle, but it's not true, any of it. We didn't-'

'Where are you going, James?' this time her voice was firmer, cooler.

'To- to rescue Rain. We could use your help, Holly.' James winced. The pleading in his voice was audible even to his own ears.

'I can't let you do that, James.'

His breath hitched in his throat. Beside him, he heard Cat gasp, and Cassie give a sad little whimper.

'Just stand aside, Holly. Please. Her life could be in danger. We need to help her.'

'No, James. You need to forget about her.'

'How can you say that? She's our friend!'

'So was I, and you've had no issues forgetting about me. But that's irrelevant, now. What matters is that I saw things, James. When I fought her last year. I saw inside her. I saw a place I was never meant to see. And… it scared me James. It left me terrified.'

James hesitated. 'W-what are you talking about?'

'The magic I used against her – I shouldn't have. I wasn't ready to use it. I was barely able to control it. But I- I walked in her Shadow, James. And I saw… I saw into her soul, or whatever twisted thing has taken the place of her soul. And it was black, James. Black, and cold as ice.

'I saw lives, and deaths. So many deaths. Fire, and blood, trailing in her wake. And ice, always, there was ice. Ice and water. Floods of it, drowning, people, cities, worlds. I don't know how, James. I don't know where or when, but I know it's true. She's not human, James. She's a monster.'

There was no anger in Holly's voice. None of the animosity, hatred or distrust she'd showed towards James throughout the year. There was only sadness. Sadness undercut with a plaintive, desperate tone. James couldn't help but believe she'd seen what she'd seen. But he knew Rain. He knew that there was more to the story. He hadn't figured it out yet, but he would. And to do that, he needed to get her back. He wouldn't allow himself to be swayed. He'd made promises.

'She's our friend, Holly. And I won't let her die.'

'Then I'm sorry, James. I can't let you go any further.'

From the moment Holly had appeared, James had been ready for it to come to this. He hefted his wand, and rolled his aching shoulders, wincing as the freshly-healed wounds protested.

'Spread out,' he gestured to the others. 'Six against one, the odds are against her. Keep moving, keep your eyes on her, and whatever you do, stay out of the shadows.'

Truth be told, James wasn't sure if the odds were in their favour. He'd rather sixty against one when it came to Holly Brooks.

Sudden movement from behind Holly nearly caused James to fire off a spell. Beside him, Tristan's lips were moving rapidly, and the tip of his wand began to shine with a burgeoning glow, forcing back the early evening shadows.

Holly scowled as the grainy shadows began to fade into nothingness. Her attention fixed on Tristan, she suddenly darted her hand down towards her wand-

Thwack!

Odette Mansfield, covered in mud and sweat, fresh from a post-match warm-down on the Quidditch pitch, smacked Holly across the head with the handle of her broomstick. Holly, who'd been focused entirely on James and his companions, crumpled without a sound. Her black silks fanned out around her like a pool of midnight blood.

'Nobody gets to raise their wand at James Potter unless I say so, bitch.'

James wasn't the only one whose mouth hung agape. 'Is she…?'

'She'll live. As for you, my dear… covered in blood, grime and goodness-only-knows what else. I've been hearing the most astounding rumours…'

'Er, well…' James began, rubbing the back of his neck. How did he explain all of this to Odette?

'He's slain a monster,' Tristan stepped in without hesitation. 'Overthrown the Ministry, saved Headmistress Renshaw and is currently in the process of terrorizing most of the castle.'

'Hey-' Fred complained, indignant.

'Cut it,' Tristan urged. 'This is for the greater good.'

'Oh, my,' Odette said, aghast. Her broomstick fell to the floor with a resounding clatter, and she began fanning herself dramatically. 'James Potter, my brave, bold lion, do you mean to tell me that you are… in action?'

'I mean… I guess?'

Odette staggered a step, looking as if she would collapse any minute. James rushed in to catch her, taking her gently by the arms.

She looked up to meet his gaze with a playful, knowing smile and James realised instantly that he'd been played.

'Look at you,' Odette grinned. 'Muscles bulging, pure masculinity coursing through your veins. James Potter, I'm not one for public displays-'

Lies.

'- but I could have you right here and now!'

There was a round of snickering and awkward shuffling from behind him. James distinctly heard Cassie huff impatiently.

'Not really the time right now, Odette. We're in a bit of a hurry.'

'If last time was anything to go by, we'll only need a minute.'

This time, it was outright laughter from Tristan and Fred.

'Hey, that was the first- damn it, Odette, I can't right now. We have to rescue Rain.'

Odette threw up her hands in exaggerated exasperation. 'Always, with that harlot!'

'She's our friend,' James stressed.

The rest of the group made to move through and out the door. The sounds of commotion above them were dying down. It was a matter of seconds before somebody came down to check on the prisoners.

Odette grabbed his arm as James made to step past. 'I know, James,' she whispered. 'Just… just come back to me safe, okay? You're no good to me cut to pieces.'

She put on a forced smile, and James nodded sincerely, gave her hand a quick squeeze and then bolted down the steps behind his friends. As they sprinted across the courtyard and towards the open expanse of the castle grounds ahead of them, they heard Odette yelling at an unseen figure behind them.

'Help! Yes you. Potter and his cronies took off into the dungeons! The dungeons, I tell you! Attacked this poor Slytherin girl here and fled! I saw it all…'

And then they were out of earshot, tearing across the uneven, rock-studded hillside and down towards the gatehouse below.

Tristan, from near the rear of the group shouted ahead. 'You and Odette have-?'

'Not the time, Tristan!' James shouted back.

'But she said-'

'We're a touch busy here.'

'It'll only take a minute!' Fred guffawed.

'Listen, I'll bloody hex the lot of you and go by myself, in a minute!'

Blessed silence, from the group.

'Thanks, by the way, Cassie, for not saying anything. At least somebody in this group is being mature about it.'

'Oh, don't get me wrong, James Potter. This is my judgemental scowl.'

James threw up his hands, and didn't say a single word to any of them until they barrelled through the door of the gatehouse and arrived at the fireplace that would take them to the Ministry.

'Tristan, Fred and myself through first,' James said, shedding any hint of a playful air. 'Give us a couple of seconds to make sure it's clear, then the rest of you follow through after.'

The group nodded. James watched as Clip and Cassie clutched each other's hand tightly. As the weakest duellists of the group, they had the most to be afraid of.

Fred was patting a lumpy sack thrown over his shoulder that clearly housed a few of his last 'Sploders. 'I sure hope that Floo fire doesn't set these off like regular fire,' he mused casually. 'Oh well.'

And before any of them could stop him, Fred leapt forth into the grate, shouted 'Ministry of Magic!' and was gone in a flash of green flames.

The remaining five let out a collective sight of relief.

James and Tristan followed after. A rush of soot and ash, and the scent of burning coals crowded James' senses for a moment, as he was jerked from his feet and sent spinning, tumbling and reeling through the mind-bending Floo network. He barely managed to keep his feet on the other side, and staggered out onto the soot-strewn hearth of a fireplace along the main entranceway to the Ministry of Magic.

The first thing he noticed was that there wasn't a single other soul in sight.

'It's a weekend,' Tristan shrugged. 'Typical government types.'

'Where to now?' Cassie asked as she tumbled out of the fireplace, brushing a thin film of ash off of her jeans. Clip, unfortunately, landed a little less gracefully, and was busy picking himself up off the marble floor.

'This way,' James said, leading the group off up the corridor. 'To the elevators. Then down to level nine. Al and I used to dare each other to run and touch the doorknob to the Department of Mysteries when Dad would bring us here.'

'What's it like in there?' Cat asked with a quavering voice. 'Mummy says there's vampires…'

'I dunno,' James shrugged, without looking back. 'We never got that far.'

The group's footsteps echoed off the high ceilings. All six of them paused to stare up at the great, golden statue as they passed, the powerful wizard and beautiful witch, surrounded by the host of magical creatures captured forever in adoration. The water had been switched off, and so it was little more than an eerie, glittering monolith that regarded the group implacably as they scurried past.

The rattling clang of the elevator doors grated on James' nerves. If there was anyone on the entire floor, they would have heard that. The group hurried in together. The fit was tight, but none were willing to slit up and wait for the next ride down.

There was a thick, oppressive silence in the small, cramped space as the lift moved ponderously down towards their destination. Each of the six of them, despite such close proximity, were unassailably alone with their thoughts. The anticipation, the nerves, the uncertainty before a fight that spread lethargy through the body turned muscles to jelly and stomachs to churning mush.

'So, what are we expecting?' Fred asked. 'A Steelheart or two? I've been looking forward to another show down with those evil-eyed bastards. Got me a score to settle.'

The forced confidence was an admirable attempt to lighten the mood, but it fell flat, echoing hollowly as all were too ensnared in dark corners of their own minds over just what lay ahead. Imagination was a sensual, alluring bitch when it came to moments such as these; she filled the mind with infinite manner of grisly demise and that addictive, destructive breath of failure.

'I don't know,' James admitted. 'All I know, is that when we get there, we need to head down. Every door, every chance we get. Down. We need to get under the Department. It looked- it was almost like a cave, where they were holding her.'

The doors clanged open, revealing a dark, polished marble corridor, devoid of any sort of adornment.

'Department of Mysteries,' spoke the bland witch's voice.

'This is it,' James told them. 'If anyone wants to turn back now, nobody is going to think less of you. It might be dangerous through there. And once we're in, we're committed. There'll be no going back.'

Cassie thrust her chin forward defiantly. Clip held his wand in a white-knuckled grip, but his hands did not shake. Cat was staring ahead with a fixation and determination she rarely displayed.

'Not bloody likely,' Tristan growled.

'Ok, well, good. If… something might happen to Tristan, Cat and I while we're down there. Professor Longbottom has taken some of our blood and… well, I don't know what he will do, but if we go down, then leave us. The rest of you need to find Rain. Just keep heading downwards, and you'll get to her.'

There were a few protests at that – Cat grabbed James' hand and squeezed it tight. Tristan crossed his arms, defiant. They eventually stared the others down, and the protests faded until even their echoes were gone.

'Then we go.'

James led the way forward. After dozens of run-ins with this corridor as a child, it was almost as if he walked through a memory as he came up to the door. The significance of it was not lost on him, as he reached out and turned the handle that had been the subject of so much fear for so many years.

It gave easily beneath his touch.

They found themselves in a roughly circular room, marked by ordinary-looking doors spaced evenly around each of the walls. As the door through which they'd entered swung shut behind them, there was a sudden, low grinding sound, and the walls shifted, moving, building up to a great whirring speed, blurring wood and polished stone together, cut through only by the thin orange glow of the torches that provided light. They spun so fast that they firelight melded into a single orange streak. Finally, the walls settled again in an arrangement that looked identical to before, but James would bet every Galleon to his name, was not.

'Guess they don't like visitors,' Tristan said, in an attempt to push back the fearful silence that followed.

'Uncle Ron spoke about this room,' Fred said, stepping forward to study one of the plain, wooden doors. James nodded. He recalled it, too. 'It's like the entrance. Every door leads to a somewhere crazy. The Time Room, the Brain Room, the Hall of Prophecy… I don't think that any of them actually lead down.'

Clip had taken to his hands and knees, perhaps overwhelmed by the nauseating sensation of the room spinning around them.

James strode forward and chose a door at random, throwing it open. Behind it stood nothing more than a solid, bricked wall. He couldn't even take half a step across the threshold before he was cut off. He struggled to crane his neck around the jamb, but it appeared that there was simply nothing there.

He closed it behind him and had to leap back out o the way as the walls started spinning once more. He had no hope of keeping track of which door it had been exactly.

The next one he tried opened up to a sunny vista of a beach – golden sand, a bright, cloudless sky, gentle waves lapping at the shore, weakly stirring a scattering of broken corals and shells that littered the high-water mark. It would have been idyllic, really, if not for the fact that it was entirely upside-down. James' mind struggled to process the scene. He could see a dark portal a few hundred paces away, seemingly rent into the very fabric of the air, but he dared not take a step inside. Just laying eyes upon the mind-twisting view was enough.

He shut the door firmly, and squeezed his eyes shut as they set to whirling once more.

'This his hopeless!' he sighed, throwing his hands up. 'All of you, grab one handle each. We'll throw them open together. One of them must lead down.'

The others leapt into action, each choosing a door at random. Fred fished one of his 'Sploders out from his pack and held it at the ready. 'Just in case,' he shrugged.

'Ok,' James signalled. 'One, two, th-'

'No!'

The sound had come from Clip – the only one not to have grabbed a door. He still lay on the floor in the middle of the room, and was frowning at what James had just taken to be patterns carved into the tiled floor. There was a depiction of an eight-pointed star picked out in black on white – each of the vertices pointing towards a door.

'No,' Clip repeated. 'It's a code. Come here, all of you.'

Hesitantly, James released the handle and made his way over with the others. He shared a confused look with Fred, as Clip murmured softly to himself, tracing unseen patterns between what James could now see were tiny runes etched into the tiles – the entire star was made up of one gigantic line of script.

'Aha!' Clip said, slapping his fist down onto the tiles triumphantly.

Nothing happened.

'Ow,' Clip sulked, rubbing the base of his fist. 'That hur-'

The floor disappeared beneath them, James felt his stomach lurch, and he barely managed to hold onto his wand as all six of them fell together. James had the sense of shapes rushing past him on all sides, but he could discern no detail through the hazy gloom all around them. He collided with a surface, something smooth and glassy, and soon they were sliding instead of falling.

The tunnel pulled them back and forth, wrapping them around sharp bends, or gentle, sweeping arcs. Up and down until James had lost all sense of bearing. Each turn took him by surprise, so that by the time they were spat out onto a plain, wooden floor into a featureless room lit by bracketed torches, he had taken more than a few knocks to the head, elbow, hip, and just about everywhere else on his body.

'Bloody hell,' Fred breathed, gingerly stretching one leg.

'Well, it certainly was down,' Cat added. She was bleeding slightly from her nose, but seemed not to have even noticed.

'Let's keep moving,' James urged. 'We've wasted enough time already.'

He strode forth to the nearest door – one of three lining the right hand side of the room – and threw it open. He was shocked to see what looked like an ordinary break room. Complete with tea kettle, a stack of half-washed cups, a dustbin that was just about overflowing, and a few grimy tables adorned with rickety, bow-legged chairs.

'Oi, this one's an office,' Fred called from the other side of the room.

'Oh, goodness me,' Cassie gasped. 'I think this one is the gents. Gracious, that's- oh, that's nasty.'

It seemed strange to find an area so normal in a space infamous for the bizarre and unknown.

'I guess even the Unspeakables have to do paperwork occasionally,' Tristan shrugged. 'This area seems pretty normal to me.'

'Not this door,' Clip chimed in from the far end of the room. He was examining a plain wooden door, painted in faded, chipped whitewash. The wood that showed through beneath was so old and worn as to be almost grey. The handle looked more liable to fall off at their touch rather than turn obligingly. There was a single, mysterious word scrawled upon it. James couldn't work out what it said.

'Below.' Cat read.

'How did you-'

She grabbed James' face and tilted it so he was looking at the door nearly upside-down. 'Oh.'

They piled through, and down a long, narrow staircase that wound tighter and tighter until it seemed they were walking in the opposite direction all together. Climbing, instead of descending. The moment James came to this revelation, their path levelled out, and they found themselves in a small antechamber, bearing three doors. James sighed heavily.

'Why does everything need so many doors?'

'Makes it hard for unwanted guests to crash the party,' Fred shrugged, fiddling with a loose 'Sploder in one hand, his wand in the other.

The first door led to a room filled with searing purple flames. James ruled that one out fairly swiftly. The second seemed to lead to a busy street in the middle of London. He dismissed it as well. He threw the third door open a little desperately and found himself staring into almost total darkness. A dimly lit path was a faint grey smudge against the looming black. It zig-zagged across the room until it faded from view, blurred into nothingness only a few hundred paces ahead. He shrugged and gestured the group through.

The door closed heavily behind them. James looked back, but couldn't even make out its position, though he stood not a handful of steps away.

'Bloody dark in here,' he whispered.

Something about the room seemed off in some way. Some sort of primal sense that told him it was in his best interests to whisper.

'Lumo-'

Without warning, Cat swooped down and grabbed his wand – dragging James' arm up with it – and popped it in her mouth.

-s.'

Cat's cheeks began to glow. James could see the shadow of her teeth. His wand gave off enough light to allow him to see the terrified expression on her face. Her pale eyes were wide with fear as she slowly pointed up at the ceiling above them.

Eyes. Hundreds and hundreds of eyes. All around them. Covering the ceiling as far as James could see. All over the walls on either side. Close enough that Fred could lob his 'Sploder at them. Close enough that whatever belonged to those eyes could probably be on them in the space of a heartbeat.

Everywhere James looked, more and more eyes came to life. Tiny pinpricks of beady, red light watching. Waiting. It made James' skin crawl. He could feel his hackles raised, and wasn't surprised to note his hand quivering as he cast Nox to extinguish the light.

There was nowhere to go but forward. The group stuck to the faintly illuminated path as they wound their way through the pitch darkness. The eyes above tracked every step that they made. It felt as if someone held a dagger, poised over James' spine, and any wrong step or sudden movement would send it plunging into his heart.

They're just bats, he tried to tell himself. Just really large, evil-eyed bats…

They managed to make it through the room and out into the relative glare of another small antechamber without major incident.

'If I ever have to set foot in there again,' Clip breathed. 'It'll be too soon.'

This time, the antechamber had only one door, so James pushed ahead and opened it. It led to a room with a ceiling so high that James could barely make it out. The twisted, complex rafters were little more than matchsticks up above. Bundles of light danced in and out between them, bathing the room in a soft, bluish light. And illuminating the mountains of stuff that walled their path in every direction.

"Vanished" said a small sign on the door. As the group move through, they noticed that many of the items close at hand were winking in and out of existence, seemingly at random. This caused some level of consternation when larger items that were clearly propping up the pile simply ceased to exist, sending great towers of clutter teetering back and forth precariously, casting great looming shadows over their paltry group.

Somewhere in the distance, a great, thunderous rumble resounded. It sounded like a landslide of epic proportions.

'Stick to the path,' James muttered. As if they needed telling.

'It's like the bloody Forbidden Forest all over again,' Tristan whispered, his wand still held at the ready.

'I think I'd rather the Forest,' Cat said, clutching tightly to the tails of James' t shirt.

'I think this is where vanished things go…' Cassie breathed, as she watched a pile of scrolls appear and disappear from within a stately old bookshelf.

The next little antechamber bore two doors. James tugged on the handle of the one to the right, but nothing happened. The handle of the door on the left rattled when he did so. He tried the door on the left and again, was met with nothing. This time, the handle on the right jiggled mockingly.

'I think they need to be opened together,' Cassie suggested, frowning quizzically at the doors.

Not for the first time, James was glad he hadn't had to make this trip alone.

James grabbed hold of one handle, while Clip grabbed the other. They opened the doors together and revealed an identical colonnaded walkway with marble statues set in niches lining each side. Shrugging, James stepped through his door followed by Tristan and Cassie. Cat and Fred followed Clip through his.

And neither group found the other once they passed through the door.

James spun around, but with a heavy whump, the door swung shut, and then disappeared into the thick stone wall behind them.

'Shit,' swore Tristan.'

Cassie gave a small whimper, and clutched her wand fiercely to her chest.

'It's ok,' James said, trying to stay calm. 'We- we'll cover more ground this way.'

'It's not like we've run into anyone so far,' Tristan said in an attempt to comfort Cassie. 'We're probably better off in smaller groups any-'

Boom.

'Shit,' Tristan swore again.

The three shared a significant look.

Boom.

Cassie frowned. 'That sounds like…'

'One of Fred's 'Sploders, aye.'

'Which means trouble.'

The group spared no more time, bolting down the walkway, heedless of the stoic regard of the giant statues above them. They barrelled through the door and the subsequent antechamber, then through a series of progressively more bizarre rooms that house giant mushrooms, thousands of floating lights that Cassie couldn't take her eyes off, and then what looked like a lava lake broiling away beneath the rocky walkway they transgressed.

The fourth room was a flat, barren plain. Bare rock underfoot was coated by a thin film of dust. The door that appeared closest to them reeked of some sense of wrongness. Something that just seemed out of place. Anathema to all of James' senses. It left him feeling greasy and dirty. And feeling horribly, helplessly alone. But they had no choice. James reached out to take the handle-

'James, no!'

Cassie lunged and smacked James' arm away. She pointed at a faded, brassy plaque above the door. It was pitted and covered with Verdigris, but the writing could just about be made out: Death's Door.

James backed slowly away with his hands raised.

'You don't think…?'

'I don't want to risk it.'

They pushed on, realising that the doorway had been floating through the room, and had gravitated towards them when they appeared. On the far end, they slipped through a much smaller, less conspicuous portal, leaving Death's Door floating sadly alone once more. James could practically feel the longing.

Boom.

The explosions were getting closer. How many 'Sploders had Fred brought? Just what horrifying monstrosity had they come up against? Or had they found Rain, and already fought to break her free, desperately needing help from James as he ran, lost, through the bowels of the Department of Mysteries.

Another stairwell lay ahead of them. Leading blessedly downwards. The three darted down it together, James in the lead, Tristan bringing up the rear. Soon they levelled out, not into an antechamber or another room, but into a dark, winding corridor, lit sporadically by bracketed torches.

Dark, damp stone lined the walls and ceiling. Rough-cut and jagged, it looked hewn from the earth itself. Small, squat doors punctuated unadorned walls. It looked eerily like a row of cells.

'This is it!' James hissed. He recalled it from Rain's vision. 'This is where they were holding her. We're nearly there.'

Boom.

Frantic footsteps up ahead. So close they could be just around the corner.

'Guys! Fred! We're here!' Cassie yelled, her voice cracking with fear.

James and Tristan both dove in to clap their hands over her mouth, but too late, her voice echoed up ahead of them. The footsteps suddenly stopped. James heard the low growl of guttural voices.

'Shit again,' Tristan swore.

Cassie's eyes bulged. 'I'm so sorry!' she hissed.

'Let's go!' James hissed, tugging Cassie forward by the sleeve of her shirt.

They sprinted ahead – towards the voices – until they came across an intersection with a staircase. Bare stone steps led downwards, the path lit by the occasional torch flickering in rusted, cast-iron baskets. Upwards, the steps spiralled into darkness.

'Down it is.'

They began to hurtle down the steps. Two figures appeared in the corridor, from the direction they had been heading. Tall, in long dark robes and shadowy hoods. Red emblems blazed on their chests.

'Steelhearts!' Tristan yelled.

A length of glittering chain leapt from the wand of one of the figures. Tristan managed to push it aside at the last second, receiving a gash across the face for his efforts. James paused in his flight, hesitating for half a second – should he help Tristan defend their rear?

'Run!' Tristan shouted. 'We can't fight bloody Steelhearts!'

James turned and ran. He could hear Cassie's laboured breathing behind him. Tristan, bringing up the rear fired spell after spell wildly back over his head. Chips of stone flew as the occasional jet of spellfire slipped passed Tristan's defences and nearly collected James in the back of the head.

'Praelenify!' Cassie shouted, jabbing her wand at the steps behind them. A thick coating of greasy oil leapt form her wand and coated the stone.

Shouts of alarm came from their pursuers. James heard a set of satisfying thuds.

'Good thinking,' Tristan grunted. 'Incendio!'

Hungry, incandescent flames roared forth from his wand, and consumed the corridor behind them. James stopped, aghast at the searing blue-green light. Cassie threw up her hands before her, shielding form the coursing heat that rolled off the blaze in almost physical waves.

The curses of frustration turned to screams of agony.

'Bloody hell,' James breathed.

Cassie held a shaking hand to her mouth. James had to wrap an arm around her to keep her on her feet.

'We're not here to make friends,' Tristan said unapologetically. Blood leaked from a wicked gash above his left eye. 'Some of those spells would have relieved me of the head from my shoulders, if I hadn't shielded from them.'

James turned to move onward, but Cassie was rooted to the spot, clutching fiercely to his arm.

'C'mon, Cassie,' he urged softly. 'We need to keep moving. We need to find Rain.'

'I just- we just-'

James stooped to bring himself eye-to-eye with his friend. Her wide-eyed gaze was swimming behind a sheen of tears. 'Listen, Cassie,' he began, as calmly as he could. 'We only did what they wanted to do to us. We stopped them harming us- and harming Rain. These are bad people, Cassie. Hell, we don't even know if the Steelhearts are real people. You can do this, Cassie. You're braver than you think.'

Slowly, she nodded, scrubbing at here eyes with the heel of her palm. 'They could have stopped it, too. Couldn't they? There's flame-freezing charms, and- and- burn-repellents…'

'Aye, they could. Which means that they might show up any second now even angrier than before, so we'd better keep moving.'

She nodded again, releasing James' grip and visibly steeling herself, drawing herself up to her full height and setting her shoulders defiantly.

The stairwell led them out onto a corridor identical to the one above. Bare, stone walls, recessed niches housing dimly-glowing torches. Except, this time, there were no doors dotting the walls on either side of the corridor. This time, a few hundred metres up ahead, it simply seemed to end, opening out into some vast, black, cavernous space.

'This is it!' James sprinted towards the exit, elation growing in his chest. He could hear the others close behind. The opening was growing larger, less than a dozen paces ahead…

'No you bloody don't.'

The deep, guttural growl came from the far end of the corridor, but its echo leapt ahead of James, so that for a wild moment, he thought themselves surrounded. Instinctively, he ducked to the ground, just as he felt the searing heat of a spell zip past through the space he'd occupied not a moment ago.

The Steelhearts were back, and even more terrifying than before. Most of their robes were burned away, revealing burned, charred flesh. Great red weals lined their faces, and pale blisters leaked fluids down their necks, arms and legs. One seemed to be missing an eye, but had no trouble lowering his wand directly at the three of them, huddled together in one of the sconces that marred the walls.

So close! Frustration raged within James, fuelling his efforts as he blocked a pair of spells that flew their way.

'You kids picked the wrong day to get lost down here,' the one-eyed one growled. He drew his wand down in a violent slashing motion, and James was forced to roll as a wide, purple jet of light nearly filled the entire corridor, and left deep gouges in the stone either side.

'Defodio!' Tristan shouted, pushing himself to his feet.

A rain of rock and rubble tumbled from the ceiling, forcing the Steelhearts to leap backwards, and filling the space with a thick haze of dust.

'Run, James. You get to Rain, we'll hold these two off as long as we can.'

'No you bloody won't-'

'Yes, James, we will.' Cassie was on her feet now, too, defiantly blocking the corridor, shoulder to shoulder with Tristan.

'Cassie, you can't!'

'I can, James. I'm braver than I think. Maybe, I'm braver than you think, too.' Her hands shook, and her tremulous breathing came short and fast and frantic, but she stood firm.

James shared a nod with Tristan, then turned and bolted up the corridor as the Steelhearts emerged from the dust, raining a barrage of spellfire down upon his friends.

He'd been right. The opening was a balcony, of sorts, overlooking the large, cavernous chamber with the arch. He couldn't see Rain directly, but knew she must be just on the other side. He vaulted the balustrade without thinking, preparing for a heavy impact on the rocky ground below.

But he just kept falling. He'd messed up the scales. The arch wasn't about twice his height, it must have been at least five. The room was massive. Far more so than he had anticipated. The drop was deadly. There was a spell to lower descent, but he'd never mastered it. He was going to end up splattered across the floor, mere metres from where Rain was being held, all because he hadn't looked before he leapt-

A jerking motion that felt like his stomach being pulled forward through his belly button, and his fall slowed, ground to a halt, and stopped, an inch from the floor. He dropped the last meagre distance onto the hard, unforgiving ground, and felt like a total, utter fool as the final little jerk caused him to bite through his tongue. Hot, steely blood flooded his mouth and he cursed himself for an idiot a thousand times over. Some bloody hero, he was.

He pushed himself to his feet, and scrambled down the wide steps. The room was a giant amphitheatre. With the arch on a plinth in the centre. A thin, tattered veil hung down beneath it, stirring on a breeze that James was certain didn't exist. Each time he looked at it, he could hear whispers sounding in his head. They beckoned him to come closer.

Step after step James sprinted, rounding the room bit by bit until- there! A set of shelves piled high with magical items whirring and humming and puffing off a cloud of green-blue smoke that hung around the dais at about head height. As he rounded the room he saw the table come into view. Saw Rain's spill of golden-red hair, and saw a thin, frail looking witch with dark hair and narrow features standing over her.

The witch held one fist high above her head. It glowed with a malignant, dark energy. A hazy blackness, deeper even than the gloom of the cavern, pulsed around it like a sickly heartbeat. Arcs of black and purple lightning flashed within it, setting James' hair on end even from a distance.

Whatever spell she had conjured reeked of appalling power, and she held it hovered above Rain's body. Oblivious to all else, even to James' presence.

James allowed relief to wash over him for the first time that day, and he gave a genuine smile as he raised his own wand, took careful aim, and yelled, 'Stupefy!'