A/N: I appreciate that the cupboard of chapter updates has been a little bare lately. But we are back on track for a more regular, weekly schedule from now through to the end of this book. Thanks for bearing with.
The nights were getting cold. James was never entirely sure how he always got caught by surprise. Every single year, some time around mid-November, it was as if somebody had flicked a switch. The evenings went from grey and mild to pitch black and frigid. The corridors became draughty and forbidding in all but the most well-travelled thoroughfares, and he would invariably realise he'd forgotten to pack enough sweaters. Such was the issue when one was forced to pack for the whole year in the balmy glow of an August evening.
But there was nothing for it, now. That much he knew. He could only tuck his hands into his armpits and stamp his slippered feet to keep them warm, wary though he was of causing too much noise. Not that anybody was likely to come across him. He was out well past curfew, once again. The Invisibility Cloak tucked into the back of his trousers had made his journey a relatively simple one. It had actually offered a little extra warmth, and James was considering donning it once more, though he wasn't entirely sure how Ava Adams might react to seeing a disembodied head floating around the corridors at the stroke of midnight.
The sacrifices he made for his friends.
He huddled a little closer to the single torch still burning, gaining what warmth he could from the feeble, sputtering glow.
The staircase he was currently lurking near had been termed the "long-drop" stair for much of Hogwarts' history. That was, until a first-year student had actually fallen from the rail-less stairway, and then it had mostly just been called "out of bounds". Although that had been over ten years ago, and the restrictions had laxed since then, few still used it. Most said it was haunted, with the first-year's ghost lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out and scare students at an inopportune moment, hoping that they, too, would fall, so that he might have a friend to keep him company.
James shivered. This time, not entirely due to the cold.
He jumped when footsteps sounded in the corridor off to his left. He hurried to compose himself, cursing the recent spate of conspiratorial events that had left his nerves frayed and on edge.
As it turned out, he had plenty of time. The footfalls did not seem loud because they were close by. They seemed loud because they were, in fact, very loud. He listened, wincing slightly as they approached up multiple flights of stairs, dragging and clunking and once even stumbling – an act which was accompanied by a string of curses rich enough to make James raise an eyebrow. Eventually, Ava Adams strode into view, rosy-cheeked, and slightly out of breath.
James was fairly certain that he was no master of sneaking about. People like Holly had a knack for it that he knew he'd never master. But he did, at least, have the sense to understand that when secrecy was on order he shouldn't wear sequined slipper boots that reached up to his knees. Nor would he be inclined to come dressed in a garish, egg-yolk coloured sweater. And he most assuredly would not be present wearing a veritable menagerie of shiny metal bird clips in his hair, which winked and flashed and caught every skerrick of meagre torchlight all up and down the hall.
'Hi, James!' Ava Adams said brightly, favouring him with a broad, toothy grin and an energetic wave, despite the fact that they were stood two feet apart. James winced as her voice echoed up and down the abandoned stairwell.
'Hi, Ava,' James whispered back, gesturing for her to follow him a little ways back up the corridor and out of the stairwell. He hoped that she would take his lead and try to keep her voice down. 'It's great you're here and all, but you're erm… you're not exactly dressed for sneaking about.'
Ava looked at him, blinking owlishly. Her mouth had fallen agape in confusion. 'I didn't know we were going to be sneaking!' she said.
James looked back at her. He tried not to put his face in his hands. 'What else did you expect to be doing at midnight in an abandoned corridor.'
'Well, I don't usually dres for that at all!'
'But I told you what we were doing, and it wasn't that.'
Ava took a step backwards, and placed her hands on her hips. She pursed her lips into a perfect little pout and fixed James with a pointed stare. He felt a sudden overwhelming urge to apologise.
'James Potter, you told me that you had something to show me which would help Tristan get back on the team. Something that I needed to see in person. Something about the Hufflepuff council. Not once did you mention sneaking, pilfering, snooping, or any other clandestine activity. And so, I came dressed for no such thing.'
'Yes, mum.'
'What did you just say?'
'Nothing. Nothing at all. Can we, er… could you at least lose the hair clips? They're a bit…'
Ava gave him a look that said he ought to be very careful about his next choice of words.
'A bit sparkly?'
Ava chewed on her lower lip uncertainly. 'It's how I do it for bed every night. If I take them out now it'll go all… Oh, very well. Promise you won't laugh?'
James nodded as solemnly as he could manage.
Ava removed the pins one by one. When the finished product was revealed, James found himself biting down firmly on his tongue and trying to look anywhere else that wasn't in the direction of a red-faced Ava Adams.
'James Potter are you smirking?'
'Nuh-uh.' James didn't trust himself to speak properly.
'Well then, why is that portrait of a toad suddenly so interesting? You're trying not to laugh at my hair, aren't you?'
James shook his head most enthusiastically.
'It looks fine,' he croaked.
Ava smacked his shoulder and pouted spectacularly. A move which was ruined somewhat by the frazzled bird's nest of hair sticking up every which way atop her head.
'I hope you're happy,' she huffed.
Unsure how he ought to answer that one, James simply shrugged, and got down to business, explaining to Ava their goal for the night, and just what they were supposed to be witnessing. Ava grew suddenly serious – an odd look, for her – and nodded silently as James explained the situation.
'So, you're still in?' he asked, a little uncertainly when he had finished laying it out. Now that he spoke it aloud for the first time, it seemed a touch hare-brained. And almost certain to lead to disaster.
But Ava nodded resolutely. 'Of course,' she said. Then, after a while, added. 'My very own James Potter adventure. Ooh, just wait till I tell the girls. They're going to be so jealous.'
James, once again unsure how to answer, busied himself with checking that his wand was tucked securely into his waistband for the thirteenth time.
'Let's go,' he finally whispered.
They crept out from the shadows of their landing and onto the comparatively well-lit stair. James led them upwards, slowly and tentatively, as the lack of a railing, and the staircase's notoriety for sudden changes meant that caution ruled. They crept up a single flight step by step. The sleeping portraits on the walls around them dozed on. The light of the sparse torches was just enough to see by.
A sudden gasp from Ava, behind him, caused James' shoulder muscles to tense, and his hand dart for his wand.
'Oh, James, don't look down,' she whispered shakily. 'That was a very bad idea.'
'You play Quidditch!' James hissed back. 'You spend half your life fifty feet in the air.'
Ava didn't reply, only blushed and grabbed a handful of James' shirt to remain close as they continued creeping upwards.
By the time they reached the fifth floor landing the staircase had narrowed until it was barely the width of James' shoulders. They'd been forced into a single file march, and Ava had nearly squealed when a staircase down below them moved suddenly, sending a shock of vibrations up through their feet, strong enough to rattle James' teeth. They'd hunkered down and waited it out, Ava clutching painfully to James' arm. When they alighted on the fifth-floor landing, there were audible sighs of relief from both of them.
'Alright,' James breathed, checking his watch. 'In through here. We've still got a few minutes. Alohomora.'
The lock clicked up after a brief flash of blue light from his wand, and he gently swung open the door. The room into which he led Ava was pitch-dark, and the meagre grey gloom that spilled in from the stairwell provided little to no illumination.
'Lumos,' James hissed, keeping his wand low to the ground. Nevertheless, the light from its tip was more than sufficient to reveal a small, but comfortable space, dominated by a modest oak desk with brass fixings, nearly smothered by a dozen precarious-looking stacks of parchment. Against one wall stood a low chest, it's top adorned with the sort of sentimental trophies that meant nothing to James, but were surely dear to the heart of the owner. The opposite wall was decorated by scores of posters and paintings and photos of young witches wearing all sorts of bizarre and wondrous items of clothing that James could only dismiss as "fashion". Beneath the posters was a large cupboard. Their destination.
'Oh, my goodness. I love that robe,' Ava gasped, eyeing up a young, blonde witch winking and waving whilst wearing something the colour of vomit.
James grabbed Ava by the sleeve and pulled her firmly into the cupboard, closing the door behind them.
'Nox,' he whispered. But not before his wandlight had illuminated a pair of wooden legs, intricately carved with scrollwork and swallows in mid-flight.
'This is Professor Meadows' private office!' Ava hissed. 'We aren't supposed to be in here!'
'Exactly,' James nodded in the darkness. 'So the people we're about to catch will be in extra trouble– ow, that was my toe.'
'Sorry. It's so cramped in here.'
'Ow, that was my other toe. What are those slippers made of, bricks?'
'You watch your tongue. These cost ten Galleons, I'll have you know. Ouch, no, don't stand there, now I can't breathe.'
'Sorry. Shoot, there's no room this way.'
'Aai! Good God, James Potter, if you grab hold of that again, I'll Hex you into next week!'
'Sorry! Sorry, I thought it was a coat.'
'As if. How's that?'
'Better.'
They'd finally folded themselves around one another in the least-uncomfortable way possible. Whereby James was only forced to eat a small amount of Ava's hair, her elbow was only mildly jabbing his larynx, and both of his hands were well and truly above board. But, more importantly, a tiny crack between the double-doors of the cupboard afforded them a view of the Professor's desk, and the stacks of parchment that were threatening to bury it.
They didn't have long to wait.
Noises soon sounded from the corridor outside. Hushed, frantic whispers, followed by fumbling with the door. The lock clicked open easily and the door slid ajar on oiled hinges. The glare of wandlight hid the identity of the figures that entered the room, but James was certain that they were in the right place. He counted three of them. Three large, looming figures entered one after the other, softly closing the door behind them. They kept their wands drawn, the light held low so as to minimise the glow and not risk alerting any potential professors passing by on night duty. They spoke barely at all, and moved purposefully across the small room towards the desk with comfortable familiarity. This clearly wasn't the first time they'd been here.
'Oh my goodness, it's Avery Hitchens!' Ava exclaimed in James' ear.
He jammed an elbow into her ribs to keep her voice down, but at the same time shifted slightly so that she could get a better view. The figures had come alongside their cabinet, and with the wandlight illuminating the papers on the desk, their profiles were exposed in a perfect position for James and Ava to see.
'And that's Jordan Minkenberry,' she breathed softly. 'And the girl is Haley Hart. They're seventh years.'
'I think we just found the core of your Hufflepuff Council,' James whispered in reply.
The three outside suddenly stopped. A low voice rumbled from the figure nearest them. But a female voice – Haley Hart – replied with something calming, and they bent back to the task at hand.
James couldn't hear the few words that were shared between the three. But he didn't need to, as he could plainly see just what they were up to.
They were rifling precisely and steadily through all of the stacks of parchment on Professor Meadows' desk. It dawned on James that these must be the students' homework. Tests that the professor hadn't got around to marking yet. From all seven years, by the looks of it. Every so often, one of the three would make a noise like a soft hiss, and they'd gather round the single sheet of parchment. There would be a brief moment of conferring, then, with a wave of her wand, Haley Hart would – presumably – change what was written on the sheet. In the few minutes since they had been there, James had already seen them alter a dozen sheets.
'Lies,' Ava gasped beside him, coming to the same realisation as James had. 'It's all lies.'
James tried to make calming movements, but he could feel Ava beside him, practically shaking with rage.
'Hard work,' she hissed in James' ear. 'Hard work. It gets results. Study. Diligence. Enthusiasm. All the things they tell us about. All the things that make us Hufflepuffs. Loyalty, hah! Lies and more lies, all of it.'
'Shh, Ava,' James whispered, grabbing hold of her arm. Any louder, and they were sure to hear her. Only the rustling of the parchment had saved them thus far.
'Oh, how they commend us, James. They make such song and dance about how well we do in class. These three. This council. They parade the students before us like paragons of virtue. To show us what we can achieve through hard work. And all the while, they're sitting there, pulling strings and laughing at us. At how stupid we are.'
'Ava, please,' James begged.
'Can you not imagine, James. The very thing that you had been told was most important in life. The thing you prized above all others. That you had been told defines you as a person turns out to be a lie. We can't let them do it!'
'What was that?'
This time, James heard the voice clearly. Deep and low and menacing. The three figures froze. Wands were raised, beams of light flickered around the room, glaring suddenly brilliant when they fell upon the crack in the doors of James' cupboard. Neither he nor Ava dared even breathe.
'This fucking door's open!'
Haley Hart's voice. She was the figure furthest from James and Ava. James craned to see her wandlight illuminating the rear entrance to the Professor's office. And the door through which they'd entered – disguised as to look like another section of wall, stood ajar. They'd forgotten to close it on their way in.
James' heart froze. Ava whimpered beside him. He couldn't move to try and free his wand. Not without knocking the cupboard door open. All they could do was hope.
'Is someone here?' came the low, gravelly voice. James thought that one was Avery Hitchens. Soft footsteps sounded as he paced the room, out of sight of James' narrow field of vision.
'Come on out, little mouse,' Haley cackled, a wicked edge to her voice.
The third one, Jordan Minkenberry, was staring pointedly at a couple of the portraits on the opposite wall, and trying to pry one loose, as if it might conceal further secret passages.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' Ava whispered in James' ear.
Footsteps approached their cupboard. James guessed it was Haley Hart coming their way. He could hear her humming a little tune, stopping every now and then to laugh manically.
'Are you in here, little mouse?' she asked. And suddenly, a ray of wandlight flared bright enough to blind James. It shone right into the crack between the cupboard. He flinched out of the way. His head connected with something hard, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from Ava behind him. All sounds from the room outside had stopped, save for a single set of footsteps.
Click-tap. Click-tap.
James could hear Haley's breathing now. The humming had stopped. He could make nothing out beyond the glaring light. Still, he could not reach his wand. His arm was now trapped behind Ava's back.
Tap-tap-tap.
The sound of Haley's wand on the door of the cupboard. Ava gasped. Nails dug into James' exposed forearm where she clutched it desperately. He paused, tensed his muscles. He'd have to try and surprise her–
'C'mon, Haley, quit messing around. Nobody's here. We need to get this done. Meadows is on next duty, and she always stops by here to make a tea around one-thirty.'
The wandlight lowered. James relaxed his muscles. He heard Ava sigh with relief in his ear.
'Sorry Avery, I was just having a bit of fun–!'
This time Ava actually squealed, as Haley spun suddenly and threw the doors open. James had half a second to kick his brain into gear and act. He rushed forward, ramming his shoulder into Haley. He felt it collide with something hard. A squeal. A bang. And a flash of brilliant light. Ava's death-grip on his sleeve dragged her along behind him as James finally withdrew his wand and fired a shower of golden sparks over his head to disorient the older Hufflepuffs.
'Get them!' cried Avery.
'It was Potter!' growled Jordan.
Haley Hart, meanwhile, was writhing on the ground with a hand clapped to her face and blood trickling between her fingers from the tongue she'd just bitten clean through.
But James had no time at all to worry about any of this. He bolted for the door, low and fast. Now thankful that they had left it open. He dove through it, just as an explosion near his head set his ears to ringing violently. Ava tumbled out behind him. They bounced, rolled, and pushed themselves to their feet.
'C'mon!' James urged, leading Ava off down the stairs.
There was the sound of cursing from above them. Then Haley Hart's evil cackle. A sudden gout of flame whooshed by just above their heads.
'Jesus Christ!' Ava swore.
'Muggles won't save you, Ava. Reducto!'
James' return spell sent Jordan Minkenberry diving for cover, and a portrait behind him exploded in a shower of canvas and gilt-lined wood.
They ran as fast as they dared on the narrow, rail-less stair. Each time they zig-zagged across the open expanse below, they left themselves open to fire from above.
'What do we do?!' Ava cried, cowering behind James as a jet of purple light crashed into the staircase above them.
'Your wand, Ava!' James roared. 'Or, if not that, then run!'
Ava chose the second option, pushing by James and bolting to the relative cover of a landing up ahead. There was a terrifying moment where James teetered on the very edge of the stair, his arms cartwheeling, before he fell backwards onto his tailbone, jarring his whole body with the landing.
But it probably saved him, as two jets of orange light crackled through the air just above his head, leaving behind them the static charge and smell of burnt ozone characteristic of powerful spells.
'Impedimenta!' James roared. A deep grunt echoed through the stairwell. James leaped forward to join Ava on the landing. 'Keep going!' he urged her.
The next stair had a sharp switchback. They bolted down it, James in the lead, alternating between casting protective shields and returning fire. He relied on instinct more than vision to guide him.
But halfway down a terrible shudder came from beneath their feet. The ground shrugged, the stair groaned, and he turned to watch in horror as it detached from the landing above and below them, slowly spinning on the spot without warning. James and Ava both stumbled. James' knee hit the stone hard, and pain flared brightly up his entire left leg. A cry of victory from above, and Haley Hart's triumphant yell. 'Glisseo!'
The world was transformed into sliding, careening mayhem for a few, panicked moments. James knew they were still two stories from the ground. A fall now would be fatal. But there was no purchase at all to be found. His feet slipped from under him. His shoulder collided with stone. His teeth crashed together painfully. He felt his wrist connect with something soft and heard a squeal of pain from Ava. They slid, they rolled, there was a terrifying moment of being suspended in mid-air…
And they crashed into something soft that gave way beneath them, and rolled to a stop. James' knee was agony, his shoulder throbbed, and he'd bitten his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He had an upside-down view of a tapestry falling back into place over the portal they'd just fallen through, and heard muffled, confused and angry voices from the stairwell they'd just vacated, arguing and trying to find where they'd disappeared to.
James and Ava lay perfectly still for a moment, ears straining, trying to listen for words among the murmuring voices. Eventually, the sounds faded. They'd caused enough of a commotion to draw attention from at least one professor. The Hufflepuffs would need to tidy up Zoe Meadows' office, or there would be hell to pay.
'Everything okay?' James whispered into the darkness.
'Fine,' came the sullen reply.
'Lumos.'
James lit his wand, but kept it low to the floor, casting a silvery glow up and down the space they found themselves in. It was too small to stand up in, but they could sit comfortably enough. James winced, as he propped himself up against one wall, letting his damaged knee straighten out before him.
They sat in silence for a long time. James went through all of his aches and pains one by one. His knee and shoulder were by far the worst, but he was confident both would come right of their own accord. He wished he knew enough healing magic so that he could stop tasting blood every time he swallowed.
Eventually, the silence was broken by a small, plaintive sound. A sob from Ava.
'Ava, are you okay?'
Silence, and another soft sob before she answered.
'Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I'm not hurt, if that's what you're asking.'
'I'm asking if you're okay, Ava.'
Another long pause.
'I feel dirty, James. I feel responsible. As if I'm as guilty as they are. I feel like everything I've done here over the last six years has all been for nothing. A lie.'
'That's not true, Ava.'
'Was it really worth it?' she asked. James didn't reply. He couldn't. 'All we've done, tonight, really, is trade one headache for another. A bigger one. Sure, maybe we help Tristan. But now, what am I to do, knowing about this. How can I look anybody in the eyes ever again? How can I call myself a Hufflepuff?'
'Knowledge,' James said, remembering Renshaw's words. 'Brings chains. Chains that bind you to action. It is a burden heaped upon us. Often, we don't ask for it. But we get it all the same.'
'That's the problem, though, James. I don't know what to do.'
James sat up a little straighter, and leaned forward to look Ava in the eyes. He reached out and lay a hand upon her knee.
'Ava, you are the most kind and genuine person I know. If there's anybody who can figure out what to do, it's you.'
Ava just scoffed, and looked away up the cramped crawlspace, out into the grainy grey that yawned beyond the bubble of James' wandlight.
'There's nothing genuine, James. Not anymore. Not about me, at least. You saw what those three were doing. How much of Hogwarts has been once big, ignorant lie for me? For all of us poor, stupid Hufflepuffs.'
James sighed and leaned back, resting his head against the cool, hard stone.
'Ava, you are the best Chaser I've ever met. You fly circles around almost any person on the pitch. You whole team– this whole school knows how talented you are. And I've seen how much effort you put in. I've seen you in the pouring rain, when it's so dark you can barely see, still practicing manoeuvres on the pitch. I've seen you be the last person to leave the pitch in the evenings, and the first to arrive the next morning. I've seen you train harder, and longer, and more than anybody else in this school.
'And nobody– nobody can fake that, Ava. That talent, that breathtaking talent, it comes from within you. But more than that, it comes from the hard work you put in. So don't ever forget that, Ava. Because it's the most honest thing there is.'
There was silence again for a long time. James could just make out Ava's features in the gloom. They were distant, wrapped up in thought. Her shadowed eyes were gazing somewhere over James' shoulder. Finally, she shifted her weight slightly and let out a long sigh.
'James?'
'I'm here.'
'Thanks.'
'Any time.'
'I think… I think I'm going to rest here for a bit, before I go back to the common room.'
James didn't relish the thought of hiking up five stories with his knee still throbbing. 'Good idea. Me too.'
He awoke the next morning when slivers of sunlight began eking through the tapestry at the end of his tunnel. His knee was stiff, but usable. His back ached from the awkward sleeping position. And he was entirely alone. Ava Adams was nowhere to be seen. Only a single, glittering hairclip, a black-and-yellow mockingbird, placed carefully into James' left hand, gave any indication that she'd ever even been there at all.
