The days at Hogwarts grew shorter. The nights grew colder, and somehow, darker. Misty November mornings crystallised into frigid December frosts. Dustings of snow on the distant peaks blossomed like great white lilies to coat whole mountainsides. Puddles shattered underfoot, leaving shards like broken glass.

And the wind that moaned through the halls of Hogwarts castle misted breath, raised hairs, and set the students to rummaging through their trunks for the thickest of coats, the woolliest of mittens. They travelled in packs, as if to share body heat. They gravitated to hearth and torch, like great moths, hugging the firelight as if it gave life.

Winter had come. It had wrapped itself so firmly around the castle that the students couldn't move for feeling its frosty breath stinging their cheeks and watering their eyes.

And through it all, the sun rose, the moon wheeled, and James Potter had dreams haunted by the Unmaking.

He tossed and turned beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, discarding his blankets despite the chill. Cool sweat pricked his skin, and his eyelids fluttered fitfully. His muscles strained against unseen bonds, and every so often, a soft growl would escape his parted lips.

He was living in a world of melting rooms, of locked doors and faces that unravelled whenever he looked upon them. He was haunted by screams. Rain's scream. He saw her strapped to a bed, writhing beneath the ministrations of that unknown witch. The witch who had nearly killed her, and then given her own life in Rain's stead. And behind it all, loomed dark faces, mysterious, shrouded shapes that tried to tug and pull him in this direction or that, but whichever way he turned, a great yawning pit opened beneath his feet and he fell and fell until his eyes snapped open and he would shoot upright in his bed, sweat-soaked and dreading the moment his eyes would close once more, and he'd live it all again.

One such December night, James decided he'd had enough. He slipped his feet over the edge of the bed and fetched some socks and jocks. As the sweat cooled on his body and brought on a wave of shivers, he grabbed his thickest Quidditch jersey and threw his father's Invisibility Cloak over top of it all.

He padded from the room with his wand in his hand. His nightmares had shaken off most of the sleep haze, and his mind was already churning. Outside, a pregnant gibbous moon waxed close to full, and provided ample light for James to ghost through the corridors alone and unaided. He knew these upper reaches of the castle so well by now, that he didn't even bother to disguise his head, using the Cloak for warmth more than secrecy. He stopped to listen at each corner, but without a Lumos spell shining like a beacon around him and ruining his night vision, he knew he already had an upper hand over any prefects, professors or other patrollers of the night.

He made his way over to the Ravenclaw Tower, for lack of any other place to go. His feet led him up the tight, winding staircase. A draft stirred the hem of the Cloak, and threatened to set James' teeth to chattering. Before long, he'd reached the top of the stair, and stood facing the brass eagle knocker, lost deep in thought.

'Well, floating head. Are you going to speak, or did you lose the capacity for that when you lost the rest of your body?'

James started, feeling his heart jolt in his chest. 'I'm a whole human,' he assured the door. 'Look.'

James pulled the Cloak back to show the rest of his very real body. Unfortunately, he hadn't deemed his midnight escapades worthy of donning anything more than his boxer shorts from the waist down.

'A flasher! Begone, foul beast! You sicken me!'

'Sorry 'bout that,' James mumbled, hurriedly wrapping himself in the Cloak once more. 'I was hoping I could get past.'

'Without trousers? I doubt that.'

'Aren't you supposed to help the students of Hogwarts?'

'Only when they're wearing trousers. It says so in the rulebook.'

'Just ask me a riddle, I can get it.'

The eagle made a sceptical sound and turned a beady look upon James.

'Well, then. I'll keep it simple for your thick Gryffindor skull. What am I: I'm tall and thick, and strong as brick, and nobody ever gets through.'

'A wall,' James said, without hesitation.

'Close…'

'A locked door?'

'Correct!'

'Oh. Oh.'

'Aha!' the bird laughed cruelly. 'It is sentient. Begone, I tell you. Gryffindors with big heads in the small hours are barred on principle.'

'It's not like that!'

'Oh, if I had a Sickle for every time I'd heard that over the years!'

James crossed his arms and scowled. 'Can you at least tell me, then, if a fifth-year girl has left the common room tonight? Reddish hair, blue-green eyes, very pretty and wears a golden locket?'

'Oho! So it is like that!'

'It isn't!'

'All your blood must have left your head and be flowing elsewhere, if you think I'll tell you, young man. Now run along, before I make eleven kinds of racket and bring all manner of trouble down upon your trouser-less self.'

James gave it up as a bad job, leaving the bird with a few choice words and a healthy two-fingered salute before he turned and stomped his way back down the stair.

He found, at the bottom, a gleaming suit of armour guarding a s small niche covered by heraldic flags and tapestries of battle. Instead of traipsing all the way back to the Gryffindor dormitory to enjoy another night of restless sleep, James chanced a glance up and down the corridor, and then ducked in behind the knight, finding the space larger than anticipated. He shuffled the tapestries around so nobody would see him without peering intently, and bundled the Cloak around himself to ensure his privacy. He had a perfect view back up the stairwell – the only way in or out from the Ravenclaw common room. From here, the passage branched off further down the castle, or across to the Gryffindor Tower. There was even a poorly-known back-passage concealed in a broom closet that led to the West Wing. But all traffic had to go through James. He figured it was the perfect spot to stop and wait and watch.

And so, he did.

But he saw nothing that first night. The second night, too he drew a blank. By the third night, he'd smuggled in a pile of bacon and half a loaf of bread, so at least he didn't go hungry. On the fourth night, much to his surprise, when he arrived at his little nook he found a plump feather pillow waiting for him. Fearing that somebody was onto him, he hid in the broom closet and spent the whole night peering out at his old hide. On the fifth night, he found a neat little note, signed by the house-elves, apologising for disturbing his peace, and offering to bring him hot chocolates, should he ever require.

Nearly a week had gone by, and James was beginning to grow impatient. The Christmas holidays were approaching, and he would be heading home for a full two weeks. This was not to mention the hit that his studies had been taking due to his being awake through most of the night. The days were sliding by in a grainy-eyed haze of nodding off in lessons, forgetting to take notes, flunking tests and not even handing in a Transfiguration essay that cost him twenty points to Gryffindor.

He knew that he had to change something, and he already had a plan as to what it was, he just wasn't sure if it was a change for the better, or for worse.

'I was wondering when you'd get around to asking me,' Holly Brooks was leaning up against a particularly ugly gargoyle on a third-floor landing, chewing gum loudly and looking at James with a very disinterested stare.

'Have you–' James stopped and lowered his voice. 'How did you find out what I was up to? Who told you?'

'Nobody,' Holly said, shaking her hair free of its braid and raking her fingers through it idly. 'But you're a walking zombie at the moment. So, you're either spending your nights sneaking around and up to no good, or fucking your way through the upper years alphabetically. Or perhaps by height. And I know you're not enough of a catch to be doing the latter, so….'

'Do we really need to fight, Holly?'

'Don't sulk, James. It's pathetic.'

James sighed, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. He was quickly becoming convinced he had made a mistake.

'It's about Rain,' he finally said.

'Of course it is.'

'You said you wanted to do this together. That you'd help me. And I… I need your help. I've been staking out the Ravenclaw Tower, trying to see if Rain is walking around at nights. But I can't keep doing it alone. Staying awake all night is killing me. I was wondering if we could do it together. In shifts.'

'So one of us snoozes while the other sits by and keeps watch? I suppose you want me to pat you back to sleep when you have nightmares, too?'

'How did you–' James bit off the rest of that sentence, but not before Holly's grey eyes had flashed with knowing.

'I should have known that this was all just some elaborate scheme to get to sleep with me, James.'

James felt like throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. She seemed to be enjoying this. This incensing, aggravating behaviour. As if her sole purpose was to get under his skin, to try and get a rise out of him. He took a long, deep breath and employed a calming exercise he'd learned from Professor Longbottom in his Occlumency lessons, before responding.

'Are you in, or not, Holly?'

She pouted her lips dramatically. 'You're no fun when you control your temper. Sure. Give me a time and a place.'

And that was how, that very night, James Potter found himself tucked into his alcove once more. This time, however, Holly Brooks was wedged in alongside him. And seemed none too happy about the whole affair.

'Move over, Potter.'

'I can't, Brooks. There's a wall there.'

'Could you have picked a smaller spot?'

'It was this or the broom closet.'

'Oho, you are not getting me alone in a broom closet.'

'Well put a sock in it and sleep, then. It's my first watch.'

'I would, but you keep wriggling. And you breathe too loud.'

'Would you rather I suffocate?'

'… honestly?'

'Don't answer that.'

Finally, silence descended. For a blissful few moments.

'James Potter I swear to God, if you stroke my thigh one more time–'

'I didn't touch you! Are you sure you weren't just drifting off into a fantasy?'

'A nightmare, maybe…'

After that, mercifully, Holly did finally drift off, and James was left to an entirely uneventful few hours of watching a blank stretch of corridor. A part of him was hoping Holly would snore, just so he'd have something to complain to her about, but he was out of luck. She slept like an angel.

Their second night together was even less eventful than the first. Aside from what was fast becoming their customary bickering, the only conversation they shared was when James foolishly offered Holly to share the warmth of the Invisibility Cloak, upon noticing that she'd been shivering in the chilly night air.

'So that's all it takes then?' she asked venomously. 'Two nights, and you're already trying to turn this into some sort of love-in?'

'I just thought it might help you stop shivering. With a heart as cold as yours, you'd need all the warmth you can get.'

Holly's eyes flashed dangerously. 'Sod off, James. Leave me and my cold heart in peace.'

James felt as if he'd struck a nerve, and so, a quarter hour later, when Holly had drifted soundly off to sleep, he wriggled about and lay the Cloak over her bare legs while she dozed. She didn't notice in the slightest.

It was on the third night that, finally, James saw some action. And the way that it all came at once, he ended up, by the end of the night, thoroughly convinced that there was such a thing as too much excitement.

It was a little after two o'clock. Holly had just woken James up for his turn to keep a lookout. She'd done so with a sharp jab in the ribs that was almost certain to bruise. James leaned forward to get the best view out of their hidden, shadowy niche. Not even a hint of movement up or down the corridor. He didn't even bother asking Holly if she'd seen anything.

James stretched his legs beneath the Cloak, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. His eyelids felt leaden and dull. The world around him was stubbornly refusing to come into focus. He barely stifled a massive yawn.

'Gross,' Holly frowned. 'Talk about morning breath.'

Instead of replying, James ignored her and focused on rubbing some warmth into his fingers. He'd had to don an extra pair of socks to combat the chill already, and gloves weren't far off.

'This sucks,' he finally said to the tapestry hanging down before him.

Instead of jabbing him with another sarcastic barb, though, Holly made an uncertain little sound in her throat, and eventually spoke, hesitantly at first.

'I… might not have been entirely honest with you, James.'

'About what? The list is pretty long.'

'Oh, no. You don't get to throw stones when it comes to honesty.'

James fell silent. This was another old wound he dared not open up. For all the more playful banter that bubbled on the surface, he knew deep down that there was a very real, seething hatred towards him that he hadn't the faintest idea how to cure. The last thing they needed was to bring it to the fore.

'There's another way out of Ravenclaw Tower,' Holly eventually said. 'A secret one.'

'Nonsense. I know them all.'

'You think you know them all. You think you know a lot of things, Potter, and every time, you're sadly mistaken.'

'Where is it then? The broom closet fake wall only goes downwards, you can't get to the common room from there.'

'It comes out one landing below us. The one with the statue of the rampant Unicorn. It's a duct of some kind, a hollow in the wall used to channel warm air from the fireplaces up throughout the castle. At least, that's what it seems to be. Sometimes it's so hot that you can't touch the stones, but most nights at this time it's fine to travel. The exit is hidden behind a portrait half-way up the wall, of three hunting knights on horseback. You push it open and slide down onto the unicorn's back.'

James, rather put-out that he had been kept in the dark, and that Holly knew more secret passages in his part of the castle, crossed his arms angrily and set about sulking.

'And just when were you going to tell me about this, then?' he asked angrily.

'I don't know,' Holly mumbled. 'I don't think Rain would know about it. I don't think anyone but me knows, but… I guess you can't be sure.'

James thought back to the way Rain had been creeping around and sneaking up on him lately, as if appearing from nowhere.

'How many of these ducts are there?'

'I've already told you about this one. Sod off if you think I'm revealing them all to you.'

'This isn't a time to fight, Holly. Rain has been slinking about all over the place lately, she's always sneaking up on me, catching me unawares. She's as stealthy as… well, as you are. She just appears about the castle without warning. How many of these ducts are there, Holly?'

'That bitch,' was all Holly said.

It was enough of an answer for James. He pushed himself to his feet.

'I'm going down to check on it. You wait here and watch this passage.'

'But it's my turn to sleep–'

'Sod that, this is your cock-up. Deal with it.'

For once, Holly didn't argue.

Forgoing the Cloak in his huffy mood, James stamped his way out of their hidey-hole and off down the corridor. Through the great, arched windows ahead of him, the silvery disc of a full moon lit his path with an ample argent glow. His multi-socked feet padded silently along the rug that bisected the corridor, and ghosted soundlessly across the tiles of the stairwell landing. He slipped down the stairs, keeping an eye on the flight below him, so that he wouldn't run into any prowling professors unawares. The coast was clear.

The landing below was similarly deserted. A thick pile carpet that had once been luxuriant was now threadbare and folded up at the corners. Narrow windows let in far less of the full moon's light, though still enough to see by. James could make out the great caricature of the rampant unicorn, rearing angrily and brandishing its horn like a weapon. As he approached it, he noticed a slight polishing of the metal outer layer, around the middle of its back and there, behind one of its ears. The obvious hand-hold from anybody climbing down from…

He saw it, the portrait in question. He clambered up onto the unicorn's back, balancing cautiously on the slippery metal in his woollen socks. Sure enough, the portrait came away from the wall with a gentle prying, and he felt a gust of hot air assail him. Holly hadn't been lying.

James drew his wand. 'Lumos!' he muttered, casting a beam of light down into the space, just big enough for him to crawl. It went a good thirty feet before a sharp right-hand bend took any further tunnels out of sight.

'Bloody impressive,' he whispered.

'No, Potter. What's bloody impressive is how beautifully we've found you, with your trousers down, ripe and ready for a hiding.'

The deep voice was a familiar one. Four figures appeared at the far side of the landing, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. But James didn't need to see their monochromatic features to know just who they were.

The Hufflepuff Council.

Avery Hitchens, Jordan Minkenberry, Haley Hart, and a fourth, whom James didn't know, but was even burlier than Hitchens. They all had their wands drawn, and the moonlight cast nightmare shadows across their evilly grinning faces.

'Well, shit,' James aptly summarised.

'You betcha, Potter,' Hitchens leered.

'Oh, this is going to feel so good,' giggled Haley Hart.

James was pretty sure that she didn't mean good for all of them. His mind flitted through several options, discarding each one as futile almost instantly. He was, as Hitchens had described it, caught with his trousers down. He briefly wondered on how they could have found him, and almost instantly concluded that it had been Holly. Her words from a few weeks past echoed in his head: "I'd sell you out in a heartbeat." The timing was too perfect. The betrayal stung more than James would have expected.

'Now, let's not get too hasty,' James urged, holding his right hand out defensively. His left, he sent creeping slowly downwards towards the waistband of his trousers… 'We wouldn't want anybody to do anything- Expelliarmus!'

James had whipped his wand out in a flash, aimed a spell at Avery Hitchens and leaped backwards off of the unicorn all in one fluid move. He didn't hang around to see if his spell made contact, instead ducking for cover as a series of ear-splitting clangs resounded throughout the landing from a barrage of Hexes hitting the unicorn's flank.

He ducked his head out beneath the tail–

And quickly retracted it, as a searing jet of red light arced past, singeing a few unlucky hairs atop his head.

'Periculum!' he fired blindly. A satisfying round of cries sounded as the sparks cracked and popped all through the hall, disorienting the attackers. James risked a peek once more. 'Langlock!' he cried, and Haley Hart gave a satisfying gurgle, dropping her wand and clutching both hands to her throat.

'Bombarda!' roared Hitchens, and James yelled as a leg of the unicorn exploded before him, sending twisted, warped metal careening off down the corridor behind.

He barely had time to raise a shield before he heard the cry of 'Depulso!' and the damaged unicorn tore free from its pedestal, nearly flattening James as it was blasted back up the hall.

The blast had thrown James backwards. His leg was pinned beneath the mangled body of the unicorn. He couldn't move. He strained against it, but succeeded only in twisting his knee painfully beneath the bulk.

'Protego!' he cried. 'Reducto! Tarantallegra!'

He got lucky on the last. The big burly one was none too quick, and James' desperate spell clipped him on the shoulder, sending his legs into a wobbling, dancing frenzy, and keeping him occupied long enough for James to finish him off with a Stupefy from his pinned position.

Hitchens and Minkenberry were the only two left standing. Haley Hart was on hands and knees behind them, coughing spasmodically and clutching her throat.

'You think you're hot shit, Potter?' Hitchens growled. 'Think you can take us all down? I think you're trapped like a rabbit in a fence, and the big, bad wolf is about to eat you up.'

'This won't end here,' James growled, trying to keep his voice as menacing as possible. His wand hand quavered as he darted it back and forth between the two boys, who were both advancing painfully slowly.

'You're right, Potter. It won't. We'll hound you for the rest of your days. We'll be your own, personal nightmare. You'll wake up at night screaming because of us. You'll remember us forever, and how we made your life hell. But that is still to come. As for right now, we're about to have a little fun. Stupef–'

Everything went black.

But no, James' other senses remained. He could still feel the pain of the unicorn crushing his knee. Could still taste the steely blood in his mouth. And he could still hear the curses Avery Hitchens and Jordan Minkenberry were suddenly uttering as they, too, fumbled around in the darkness.

'What the hell,' Jordan.

'I'm blind, Avery!'

'No, you idiot. Cast a spell.'

'Reducto!'

'There! Was that a shadow?'

'Where?'

'Over there! Something move–'

Thud.

'Avery? What happ–'

Thud.

Silence. Only the ragged sound of James' breathing, and the thundering of his blood rushing in his ears. Haley Hart gave a cough, a sudden squeal, and then nothing.

Footsteps across the flagstones. Muffled, somehow, as if the darkness also muted their sound.

'Wingardium Leviosa.'

James felt the weight vanish from across his leg. There was a grating sound as the unicorn was lifted, and deposited somewhere off to his left. The way sound echoed in the smothering darkness, it could have been three feet off or thirty.

James pushed himself to his feet, favouring his aching knee. He had recognised that voice. 'Holly?'

'Who else would it be, you dolt?'

'I can't see you.'

'I'm wearing the Cloak you stupidly left behind. It smells like week-old socks under here.'

'I can't see anything.'

'Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Follow my voice. And quickly, your ruckus is bound to have alerted every bloody prefect and professor in the castle. Don't trip over the bodies.'

By the time they left the lingering cloud of pitch darkness behind, James was utterly convinced that Holly had led him on a path specifically so that he would trip over the bodies, as he somehow stumbled over five squishy shapes lying motionless on the floor before his vision had returned.

They headed down a flight of stairs, across a small corridor and into a first-years' Transfiguration classroom before Holly stopped urging him onwards, and shed the Cloak.

'A few pesky Hufflepuffs a bit much for you, Potter?' she leapt up to perch atop the professor's table, crossing her legs and popping a strand of hair into her mouth.

'Not fair. They had the jump on me. And I'd already taken two down. I didn't expect you–'

James clicked his jaws shut, realising only too late what he'd said.

The strand of hair fell from between Holly's teeth, to dangle across her chest, swinging like a pendulum. One that was counting down the final few moments of James' existence.

'You what, Potter?'

'Nothing.'

'You thought I arranged that?'

'You did say you'd sell me out in a heartbeat.'

Holly slipped off her table and marched over to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. 'First of all, I could take you without breaking a sweat. And secondly, do you seriously think that that would be the way I'd do it? A bunch of Hufflepuff goons in a shady hallway?'

'I just thought–'

'No you didn't! That's the thing, James. You don't think. You never think. You can't think past the tip of your wand or the head of your… never mind. You're an arse, James Potter. A complete, utter, total arse, and the only thing you're good at is hurting people!'

There was real anger on her face. And real tears in the corners of her eyes. James raised a hand to grab the finger that had been jabbing him softly

'Holly, I–'

Whack.

She punched him in the stomach. Hard.

'That's for thinking I betrayed you.'

'Bloody- ack – bloody hell, Holly.'

Thump.

She stamped on James' toes, sending searing pain lancing up his already damaged left leg.

'And that is for not even having the decency to say thank you!'

'I was getting around to it!'

Holly swiped the Cloak back off the professor's table and stalked past him. There was a moment of panic where James thought she was going to make off with it, before she spun on a heel to face him once more.

'Well, are you coming? While you were off tumbling with the Hufflepuffs, I was doing the real work.'

'What- what do you mean?'

'I saw Rain, you pillock. She left Ravenclaw Tower. I'd still be tailing her right now, if you weren't such a colossal arse.'

James looked up, and then smiled. 'But you came to help me instead. You do care!'

One more word out of you, Potter, and I swear, they'll find what's left of you in a wastepaper basket with your head jammed so far up your arse they'll never pull it out.'

None too eager to try Holly's clearly thin patience, James shut up and hurried along, grabbing the proffered Cloak and throwing it over the both of them.

'Let's be quick,' Holly hissed. 'The sooner I'm out from under this hateful thing, the better.'

James, sagely, remained silent.

They set out hurriedly from the room and immediately started canvassing the castle. But the enormity of their task soon became apparent. They had no idea where Rain had gone, other than "down". They went room-by-room, shoving open doors, peering into closets, and lifting up the tapestries over every secret passage they knew. But between dodging the suddenly-prevalent prefect patrols, and hiding from Professors stalking angrily up and down the corridors, they barely got halfway to the basement before the sun's first rays pierced the horizon and they were forced to give it up as a bad job.

James and Holly shared a hoarse, awkward farewell on a third-floor landing, and parted ways. James kept the Cloak over himself all the way back up to the Gryffindor common room. It bore the lingering scent of lavender and mint, which certainly hadn't come from James. Perhaps Holly had a point, after all. But then, how exactly did one go about washing an Invisibility Cloak?

A question for another day, James decided, as he slumped into bed, disappointed, but buoyed by the fact that the night, at least, had seen some action, in their pursuit of Rain's clandestine activities.

It was only two days later, on their third-to-last day of term before the Christmas Holidays, that Renshaw called the entire school together in the Great Hall.

She stood before them all, looking grave and sombre in her all black outfit. Her dark-painted lips were compressed into a thin line. Bruised stains beneath her eyes spoke of a lack of sleep. Both hands clutched tightly to the lectern, and she surveyed the school fiercely.

'I have gathered you all to announce,' she began in a flat, steady voice. 'That the entire East Wing of the second floor is henceforth off limits, due to sudden and unforeseen damages. And I expect anybody who doesn't want to go the same way as the Sorting Hat to stay well clear. It appears that something is seeking to harm Hogwarts castle, and perhaps those who reside within it. It seems that we are under attack.'