A/N: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Same as always.
Chapter 35: Atop the Eagle's Perch
His uncle's wand drawn beneath the cloak, he landed on top of the tower and warily dismounted from the broom, trying to keep it as much out of sight as possible. It was difficult, given that the roof of the tower slanted upwards in a cone at an increasing angle.
He couldn't see her anywhere. He squinted in the darkness, but there was nothing to see.
"Hello, Jamie." The voice was so loud that James was caught off guard, and nearly fell backwards off the tower. It seemed to be coming from all around him.
"Michaela," James replied, looking around anxiously, "where are you?"
There was no response. Suddenly there was a loud sound from right in front of him, and he nearly fell backwards again. Several red sparks flew up from the roof and hovered in front of his eyes. As more and more sparks flew up, he found it more difficult to see around them. He tried to sweep them aside with an arm, and they clung to the cloak, spreading on it in pools of red light.
"I can see you, Jamie." Once more, the voice was loud and coming from all sides.
"Well, I can't see you. That's not fair, is it?"
There was a pause, and then she replied, "I guess you're right." After a moment, a little ways off to his left, Michaela appeared, removing what looked like a white headband from her head. In her other hand, she held something that looked like a microphone headset, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded normal. "I'm a little surprised you actually followed me up here. Your uncle really wants to save his reputation."
James was surprised to see that she wasn't holding her wand. What other traps did she have laid out for him? "He just wants to talk to you."
Michaela quirked a brow. "Your uncle is a liar, Jamie," she said in a low voice. "He's a liar and a thief."
Far below in the Great Hall, all eyes were now focused on the high windowsill from which the powerful stunning spell had come. Still, no one could see who was up there.
After several moments, Professor Markan spoke, his voice magically amplified. "Who's up there?"
In response, a voice called back, "Are you okay, Victoire?"
All eyes turned to the Head Girl in the center of the hall. Her eyebrows had shot up nearly to her silver bangs as she continued to stare up at the high sill. "Uncle Harry?"
Several loud gasps sounded around the hall, as everyone looked back up at where none other than Harry Potter himself stood.
"Harry Potter," came the amplified voice of Professor Markan, who bore a wide smile. "Well, we're certainly glad to see you here."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied. "Now, could I have a little help getting down, please?"
"Certainly," the professor replied kindly. "You simply have to jump. Aim for the nearest table."
Harry Potter leaped out over the Great Hall, aiming for the Slytherin table. As he plummeted downwards, a gigantic red cushion appeared below him, causing several of the nearby Slytherin students to jump out of the way as it spread out beyond the edges of the table. Harry landed in it quite neatly, and slid down onto the table.
"Thank you, Professor," he said as he got down from the table and approached him.
"You're very welcome."
Just then, Headmistress McGonagall came charging into the hall. "Where is it?" she demanded, then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the stunned werewolf lying on the floor.
"Ah, Headmistress," said Professor Markan mildly, "welcome back. You only barely missed the show."
The Headmistress looked quite flustered for a moment, then quickly composed herself. Pulling her gaze up from the werewolf, she saw Harry Potter standing next to Professor Markan. "Mr. Potter, I suppose I have you to thank for dealing with this creature."
Harry gave a grim smile. Caught in the moment before, he had forgotten that this "creature" was possibly Teddy Lupin. He now remembered, and it him like a rock in his chest. He needed to get this werewolf out of the Great Hall.
Standing a little ways down the Head Table, tiny Ferius Flitwick spoke up, his voice quavering nervously. "How should we dispose of it, Headmistress?"
The Headmistress looked down at the werewolf, and after a moment, her eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Harry could tell that she too had only just remembered the possible identity of the creature.
She and Harry exchanged a significant glance.
Professor Markan cleared his throat. "For now, might I suggest we bring it to my office? I have sufficient means of restraining it should it regain consciousness. I'm quite curious to see in the morning who exactly this werewolf is that managed to penetrate Hogwarts so unnoticeably."
Several of the other teachers nodded in agreement. The Headmistress cast another glance at Harry and sighed. "Very well."
Professor Markan's wand was out immediately, and the stunned werewolf lifted off the ground and hovered in the air. It floated towards the entrance to the Great Hall, the professor following.
Everyone in the Great Hall seemed ready to follow, and Harry cast an urgent glance at the Headmistress, who spoke up. "Only Mr. Potter and myself will accompany Professor Markan to his office," she said loudly, causing everyone else in the Great Hall to freeze and look at her in dismay. "All students will return to their houses. All teachers, proceed about your business."
Before turning to leave, Harry caught the glance of Professor Brant, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who had been the first to try to hurry out of the Great Hall after Professor Markan. Professor Brant drew back when he saw Harry looking at him, and looked away quickly.
The Headmistress followed his gaze, and looked at the professor, then back at Harry. "Come along, Mr. Potter."
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied automatically, following her to the Muggle Studies classroom.
James was shocked by Michaela's accusation. He stared at her for several seconds, but her gaze didn't falter. "What?"
"He's a liar and a thief," she repeated. Then she laughed. "Oh Jamie, of course he didn't tell you whom he stole his ideas from."
James glared at her. She was lying. She had to be.
"Ask your uncle how many of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products he actually came up with himself," Michaela went on. "But then, of course he'll lie to you."
James shook his head, denying her words. His uncle was brilliant. Of course he came up with the products on his own.
"Face it, Jamie. It's the truth."
"Shut up!" He demanded, whisking the cloak off of himself. He raised his uncle's wand towards her.
In a flash, she was no longer holding the devices, but rather her own wand. The two stood on the sloping roof, staring each other down across their wands.
Professor Zarin walked behind the students, making sure they didn't stray off the route to Gryffindor Tower. The four first-years walked quickly in front of him, feeling his cold gaze on their backs.
Albus glanced sideways at Scorpius, wondering if the professor would hold him back and bring him down to the dungeons.
The Slytherin seemed to be thinking hard. Then he spoke, without breaking stride. "Professor, may I have a drink?"
The eyes of all three Gryffindors widened, and they stopped walking, turning to stare at him. Professor Zarin had stopped as well. "What?"
"I'm thirsty. I'd like a drink, please."
The Professor's gaze appeared sterner than ever. "Mr. Malfoy, this is not the time for antics. You will accompany your classmates up to Gryffindor Tower, and then, when it is deemed safe, you will return to the dungeons."
Scorpius stood firmly, returning the professor's stern gaze. "But I would like a drink, Professor."
The Gryffindors glanced at each other. Albus couldn't understand what Scorpius was doing. They all knew that Professor Zarin was deadly when he had access to people's drinks. Indeed, he had possibly already murdered one student at the beginning of the year.
"Mr. Malfoy," said the professor, speaking very slowly, "please proceed up to Gryffindor Tower with your classmates."
Scorpius stood defiantly for a few more seconds, then turned and walked on. The Gryffindors followed. Professor Zarin remained still for several seconds longer, staring after the young Slytherin. Then he continued walking as well, making sure they went up to the tower.
"We've played this game a few times before, Jamie. I've won every time."
James glared at her. Now was as good a time as any to change that. But up here, on the roof of the tower, he felt quite nervous. If one of them fell...
"Take it back!" he demanded.
Michaela shook her head. "It's the truth," she replied in a tone of fake sympathy.
"It is not!" James could take no more. He jerked his uncle's wand toward the girl. "Stupefy!"
Michaela had said "Protego" before he even got the spell out, and it deflected harmlessly off her shield and sailed out into the night sky.
"Expelliarmus!" James ducked the spell, not quite as confident in his shielding charms as she was in hers. He scrambled up the slope of the conical roof, trying to get away from the edge. The roof was strangely slippery. James couldn't remember it having rained recently.
Michaela watched him struggle, smirking. She saw the black band he was about to step on, and knew that he didn't. A moment after he stepped on it, he jerked his head up in fear.
She couldn't see the spells that he saw sailing towards himself, but she knew what he was experiencing. She had had the misfortune of stepping on one of these when she had been just ten years old. It had scared her half to death.
And George Weasley had simply laughed at her.
It was something she would never forgive him for. One of the many things she would never forgive him for.
As she watched his red-haired nephew struggle against the spells he was imagining, however, she felt a note of sympathy. Despite all the animosity that she and James had felt towards each other over the past year, she knew he had a better heart than his uncle did.
After a few more seconds of watching him, she raised her wand. A jet of gold light sailed from the end of it and struck the black band. The three golden Ws lit up, and then faded.
He turned and looked at her, his eyes wild. He sent another spell at her, and she deflected it deftly. She was better at shielding charms than any other form of magic.
She sent no spell back at him in response, and he glared at her, his wand-arm fully outstretched towards her.
The hallways of the school were empty. Sandra walked along steadily, her guard up. She had remained in the Great Hall until the very end, after Professor Markan had left and Harry Potter and the Headmistress had followed, and everyone else present had slowly trickled out, talking in hushed voices about what had just happened. Flint had disappeared, and she still had his wand. The destiny snitch had disappeared as well.
She quickly made her way back to the hospital wing. Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and shoved her against the wall. Pain shot through her injured side.
"Where's my wand?"
Reaching into a pocket of her robes, she pulled out his wand and threw it several paces away. He let go of her and scrambled to pick it up. She drew her own wand and pointed it at him for the third time. "Don't try anything."
He glared at her.
"If you do anything to hurt Carla, I'll know it was you. And so will the Headmistress."
His glare darkened, but he did nothing. Whirling around, he stormed off down the corridor.
Turning back towards the hospital wing, she continued on. When she arrived, she found a very flustered Madam Bell standing there. Behind her, Sandra could see the remains of the door of her office on the floor.
"What happened?" the nurse demanded.
Sandra could only smile weakly.
"What's that stuff in your pocket, Kevin?" Victoire asked her boyfriend.
"Huh?" He glanced at her sharply.
They were sitting on the couch in the common room of the Head dorms. Victoire was doing her very best to keep her mind off the encounter with the werewolf in the Great Hall.
"That pink stuff. What you rubbed on the back of Theo's neck in the Great Hall."
Theo glanced up from where he was sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, reading a book.
Kevin frowned at his girlfriend, but gave no reply.
"Let me see it?"
He hesitated. "No."
"Why not?"
"Kevin," Theo interjected, shutting the book and standing up, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Certainly!" Kevin replied quickly, standing up and following Theo into his room. Victoire frowned as the door shut behind them.
George hadn't heard anything in a while. He hadn't been able to make out any of the noises he had been hearing before, but at least noise had meant things were happening, which meant that his nephew was still okay.
He was now hovering outside on the broom he had found, above the window that led back into the common room. He had flown out of it when he had heard noises outside the entrance, and sure enough, no sooner had he flown out of sight than a whole flood of Ravenclaw students came into the room, babbling nervously about who-knew-what. George could have sworn he heard the word "werewolf," but he must have been imagining things.
Now he was getting concerned about James. No noise was not good. Flying upwards slowly, he cast a glance up over the edge of the roof.
James was standing straight, his wand-arm outstretched, aimed at a very relaxed-looking Michaela. Nothing was happening.
Seconds passed. George watched tensely, keeping low so that neither would spot him.
Finally, Michaela spoke. Her voice was soft. "You can't beat me, Jamie."
George frowned. "Jamie?" he muttered under his breath. He circled around the roof until he was behind Michaela. Then he let himself rise up higher, revealing himself to his nephew.
James saw his uncle, but made no sound to let Michaela know. "I think I can," he replied.
Michaela rolled her eyes and raised her wand once more. "Expelliarmus!" James dodged the spell, slipping on the strangely-wet roof, but regained his balance and fired back. Michaela deflected the spell easily once more.
George was slowly creeping closer on the broom. James kept firing spells for her to deflect, keeping her distracted while her defeat came from behind. Wandless, George seized her by the arms and floated upwards, pulling her up into the air with him. She screamed.
Smiling, James jumped back on his broom, and followed them upwards. Still clutching her wand, Michaela fired spells at him, but on the broom he was much more capable of dodging, and her spells gave him no trouble. George squeezed her arm tightly, and she let out a yell, dropping her wand. It fell back down to the roof, sending red sparks flying everywhere.
"Where is he?" George demanded.
"I'm not telling," Michaela replied, struggling against her captor despite the height.
James had no idea who they were talking about. He only hoped that his uncle wouldn't hurt the girl. They were flying awfully high up.
"He's the one sending you my products, isn't he?"
"They're not your products!"
George gave no reply to this. He merely held the girl firmly, keeping her from falling out of his grasp as she struggled.
"You stole his ideas!"
George frowned. "Did he tell you that?"
"He showed me everything. All of his designs. You stole them from him."
"You mean my designs. He stole them from me."
"Liar!" Michaela struggled more violently than ever, and George fought to maintain his hold on her.
"You're just fourteen. You wouldn't understand."
"Oh really?"
James saw a flash of white in Michaela's hand. She had managed to pull that headband thing out of her robes, and raise it to her head. She disappeared, and George's eyes widened as she finally managed to struggle free of his grip.
Falling, Michaela tried to summon Sean's broom, which still lay on the roof below, but she couldn't pull off the spell without her wand. She landed on the roof and rolled down it, pain shooting through her arm. As she reached the edge, she tried to grab on to anything she could, but failed. Suddenly, as she went over the edge, something appeared next to her hand, seemingly having grown out of the wall itself. She grabbed on, hanging there.
She was still wearing the headband, and neither James nor George could see her. Her wand and Sean's broom still lay on the roof above. She looked up at what she was clinging to. It looked like a tree root, but was made of stone. And it had simply sprouted out of the wall of the tower as she had fallen.
The school itself had saved her life, somehow.
"Michaela?" It was James. He was hovering low over the roof, looking around earnestly.
"James!" she called back.
He looked towards her, and she could see the fear in his eyes. Still unable to see her, he flew towards the source of her voice cautiously. She tried to take the headband off her head, but the arm that wasn't clinging to the stone root was hurting so much from the fall that she couldn't lift it.
"Over here!" she called.
He flew a little faster, having heard her voice more clearly this time. Soon, he was right in front of her.
"Here! Here! Stop!" He stopped less than a foot away from her.
His hands reached out and found her middle. Gently, he pulled her onto his broom, and she let go of the stone root, which disappeared back into the tower wall.
Pulling the headband off her head, she watched as his eyes settled on hers. There was such anxiousness in his gaze.
Still holding on to her, he started drifting downwards. "Wait! No, up! I need to get my wand." He changed direction and went back up, landing back on the roof. She got off his broom and made her way over to her wand, cursing the potion she had poured over the roof earlier to make it slippery before he arrived.
"Are you okay?" It was George Weasley. She looked up at him. His face was bland, betraying no sentiment.
"I'm fine," she replied, picking up her wand. She then made her way over to Sean's broom, but when she tried to pick it up with her other hand, her arm throbbed.
James floated up behind her. "I'll come back for it," he said softly, "along with my cloak." She nodded and got back onto his broom, behind him this time. Wrapping her good arm around his waist, clutching her wand tightly, she let him guide his broom, which carried them back to Gryffindor Tower.
"It's not there," said Albus.
Rose frowned. "What do you mean it's not there?"
"I mean it's not there," repeated Albus. "I know where I left it, and it's not there now." Indeed, he remembered precisely where he had left the invisibility cloak, and it wasn't there now. Someone must have taken it.
It had to be James. He was the only one who knew about it, other than the people he had been walking around with all day.
But where was James now?
Scorpius looked uncomfortably around the Gryffindor Common Room for the third time. He felt wildly out of place here, and was anxious for them to get going, looking for the Headmistress again.
Just then, the portrait hole opened. Professor Zarin climbed through.
If Scorpius looked out of place in the Gryffindor Common Room, Professor Zarin looked like a complete foreigner.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said curtly, "please accompany me back to the dungeons."
Scorpius nodded, happy to leave this tower. "Yes, Professor." He strode past the Head of Slytherin and through the portrait hole.
Professor Zarin turned to the three Gryffindors, who stood watching him apprehensively. "If I catch any of you three wandering around this school after hours, I'll make sure that you are expelled," he said in the most threatening tone any of them had ever heard. He seemed to know exactly what they had been planning to do.
He climbed through the portrait hole, and the portrait swung shut behind him.
"Now what?" asked Allison softly.
"Professor Zarin is going down to the dungeons," said Albus. "That means that we have a while before he begins patrolling."
"Yes, but we don't know what other professors are patrolling tonight," replied Rose. "And after that werewolf in the Great Hall, there are probably a lot of them. And then, of course, there's Filch."
"Rose, we need to tell the Headmistress about Professor Zarin. And this is the one time when we know where he will be and we can avoid him. I'm going. You two can stay, so that you don't get in trouble if I get caught."
Rose frowned, opening her mouth to respond, but just then something brushed by a curtain on the other side of the room. All three looked, and were surprised to see James land and dismount from his broom.
They were even more surprised to see that behind him was Michaela, and he helped her off. His hand lingered on hers, until she reached up and brushed some red sparks off his robes. "Sorry about that," she said softly. "I should have put my wand away."
He laughed. "It's okay." He looked into her eyes, and she looked back.
A moment passed, and then she stepped away from him. "I hope now you understand the truth about your uncle."
He frowned. "I don't understand anything that happened tonight. But I'm going to ask him about it."
Now she frowned as well. "He's going to lie to you about it."
"I'll get the truth."
"Not from him." When he gave no reply to this, she shook her head. "Forget it, James. Just forget it." With that, she turned and walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.