If you're reading this, much love. This chapter was written 9-11-20. This opening is going to be my memorial to the fallen on that day, so feel free to skip if you can't/won't read it.
As a first responder, the events that took place 19 years ago still haunt me, my coworkers, and the other agencies, whether Fire, EMS, or Police, to this day. I remember to a T everything when we first heard. I was in the third desk down in the second to last row when the school principal walked into social studies and told all of us 6th graders, "An airplane just crashed into the World Trade Center. They think its an attack." We were kids. We didn't understand the full breadth of what was happening, but when they brought in the TV and had us spend the rest of the day watching the news, nobody didn't not understand, then. It was apparent. It was there. It was like being smacked in the face and being doused in ice water all at once.
"Jack, pick up sweetie, can you hear me? Okay. I just want to tell you, there's a little problem with the plane. I'm fine. I'm totally fine. I just want to tell you how much I love you."
-Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas, 3 month pregnant passenger
United Airlines Flight 93
THE WTC, LOWER MANHATTEN
-2,753 killed when United Airlines Flights 11 and 175 hit both towers. This includes 343 firefighters(if you ever see 343 on an American fire fighter's shirt or truck this in honor of these FDNY fallen,) 23 NYPD officers, 37 Port Authority police officers, and 8 EMT/Paramedics.
PENNSYLVANIA
-40 passengers and crew from Flight 93 killed in an open field crash when hijackers had to fight off a brave revolt from passengers, keeping them from reaching their intended target.
PENTAGON, WAHINGTON, D.C.
-184 killed when United Airlines flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. Many US Intelligence and military personnel had evacuated, and despite many being injured, went back into the burning and wrecked structure to try to save their colleagues and friends.
Hi, Baby. I'm ... Baby, you have to listen to me carefully. I'm on a plane that's been hiijacked. I'm on the plane. I'm calling from the plane. I want to tell you I love you. Please tell my children that I love them very much and I'm so sorry, babe. Umm. I don't know what to say. There's three guys. They've hijacked the plane. I'm trying to be calm. We're turned around and I've heard that there's planes that been, been flown into the World Trade Center. I hope to be able to see your face again, baby. I love you. Good-bye.
CeeCee Lyles, Flight Attendant from
United Airlines Flight 93
As of October 2019, only 60% of the remains that have been recovered from the World Trade Center rubble have been positively identified. All these years later, many of the victims still have not made it to their final rest.
-Facts/Statistics come from CNN
"Hey Jules, this is Brian. I'm on an airplane that's been hijacked...if things don't go well, and they don't look good, I want you to know that I absolutely love you. I want you to do good, have good times, same with my parents. I'll see you when you get here. I want you to know that I totally love you. Bye, Babe, hope I will call you."
Brian Sweeney, former U.S. Navy Aviator and passenger,
United Flight 175, to his wife, Julie
Words... can't describe. How can they? Almost 3,000 innocent men and women woke up that morning expecting just another normal day at the office. Just another plane ride. Just another day at the engine company. Just another routine patrol. Just another day on the ambulance. The sheer bravery that came from this one day, that never should have happened, still brings a tear to this jaded, grouchy old EMT.
All I really can say, is thank you. Thank you to the 343, thank you to the brave passengers of Flight 93, thank you to the NYPD and Port Authority officers, thank you to the EMTs and paramedics, thank you to all of the men and women in the Pentagon, who rushed back inside with burned skin, torn flesh and broken limb, when you could have just stayed outside. No matter the political party, no matter the color of one's skin, no matter their creed, your actions were inspiring. Regardless of what's happened since your sacrifices, you continue to inspire bravery, continue to inspire many to do better, and be better.
I'm not very religious, and I was never a very good Christian, but for you, I pray that you all find peace and rest in the arms of whatever creator you worship. It isn't much, but this chapter isn't just for you, it is you. To those who lost it all on September, 11th, 2001, and those still affected...
I promise, I will NEVER FORGET.
ENJOI
…
The second day of classes, they were late to Transfiguration, having difficulty navigating the maze of stair cases and corridors. James, Brian, and Kiara huffed as they barged into class, which was a tense sort of quiet. Travis, being the athletic one, merely wiped the single bead of sweat from his brow and laughed, "The teacher ain't even here yet!" as he moved to sit when he, too, noticed what James's eyes were focused on.
A tabby cat sat imperiously on McGonagall's desk. The creature sat staring at them with bright green eyes, which had James frozen on the spot. Brian poked him on the shoulder, and when that didn't jolt him, Travis had to physically drag a now terrified James to an open seat next to Bem.
"You alright, mate?" the concerned Bem whispered to James, who was now sweating for different reasons as he stared in horror at the cat, who glared back at him.
"Nope," he whispered.
"You're fine with Constance back at home," Travis nudged him before taking his seat.
"Constance saved my life," James whimpered as the cat began to shift, making him nervous. "She's an exception, not the rule."
The class had started to giggle at him, but he didn't care. After being ganged up on by feral alley cats back in New York that one time, he had feared cats. Hated them. And now, here one was, threatening him with its poisonous green eyes. It made to leap, and James squeaked, earning himself a load of giggles and teases. When it finally pounced, James full on screamed and bolted over the desk behind him, shocking Padma Patil and Morag MacDougal into shrieking with him. He was out the door and sprinting down the hallway before McGonagall's voice could stop him, not that he cared about when she'd shown up.
…
James was still shaking when a young, kind, and bubbly Professor named Charity Burbage led him back to the Transfiguration class. She had found him running through the halls outside her classroom, and when she'd finally gotten him to calm down enough to talk, he'd told her what happened. She laughed lightly, squeezing his shoulder gently and explaining that McGonagall had something called an Animagus form of a cat she used to showcase to her classes about the wonders of Transfiguration.
James skulked in to the class behind Burbage as his classmates snickered and McGonagall looked stoically on.
"Found one of your students, Professor McGonagall," Burbage smiled as she gently nudged an embarrassed and bitter James into his seat.
"Thank you, Charity. I'm sorry for the fuss."
"No problem at all," the pretty Burbage waved her off. "He should be fine, now, I explained everything to him."
"Very good," McGonagall nodded, and blissfully, went back to her lesson without reprimanding him. James still shook a bit in his seat, as he struggled to pay attention to the class. Transfiguration was interesting, he had to admit, but his fear of cats threatened to force his stomach to leap every time he looked at the strict and stoic Professor.
Class soon came to a merciful end, but before James Dean could escape to his next class with the decidedly not-a-cat Head of House Flitwick, McGonagall called out to him.
"Mr. Potter, a word?" she said... too softly.
"Please, Professor, we have Charms, I don't want to be late to another class-"
"I'll write you an excuse," She cut him off, waving him to her desk.
James groaned, and looked to Travis for backup. He only shrugged in response and mouthed, 'We'll wait,' before heading out of the class with Brian and Kiara. James turned to the front, and with a deep breath prepared to face the music.
"So," McGonagall started slowly, looking at him... sympathetically? It wasn't a look he liked on her.
"So," James said in return, squirming and grabbing his right arm in a small measure of defense, looking anywhere but at her.
"Ailurophobia," She stated simply as she sat at her desk and clasped her hands together, lips pursed.
"Gesundheit?" James muttered, confused.
"Ailurophobia," McGonagall said again as she then leaned back in her seat. "Also known as elurophobia, gatophobia, or felinophobia. The irrational fear of... cats."
James jerked at the "C" word, but then scoffed and crossed his arms. "I ain't scared, they're just creepy."
"Creepy enough to make you scream like an eight year old girl locked in the Shrieking Shack, you mean?"
"That's- I did not scream," James defended, pointing a finger as his face furrowed. "I... valiantly thundered a war cry as I- as I committed to a tactical retreat."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him.
"That is exactly what happened," he asserted.
"Indeed. So threatened were you, Mr. Potter, by one, lone, tabby that you found it prudent to just run away? That was completely a rational decision you made in that smart aleck head of yours?"
James griped at her, but said nothing. Her eyes were the same color as her cat form's. It unsettled him so he again looked away.
"I am sorry," McGonagall said softly, leaning forward on the desk again. "Had I known you were... so afflicted, I would have been more careful with the demonstration."
James's eye widened. He was expecting her to discipline him, not show sympathy. "Uh, yeah, I- uh.."
She stood and came around the desk and sat back on it, probably to seem less formal and imposing. She put a hand on his shoulder, which made him tense, as he only could imagine a cat's paw where her fingers were. She shook him, and he looked back up at her.
"Are you going to be able to actually stay in my class?"
"Er-maybe?"
McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "You are going to be a talented wizard someday, I am sure. But before you get there, you have to overcome your fear. I will not impose on you or try to make you uncomfortable, but if you need any help..."
She looked back at her desk and pulled a licorice wand from a bag in a drawer and handed it to him. "Just remember this: Fear can have two meanings; 'Forget everything, and run away,' or 'Face everything, and rise.' If you need any help doing the latter, all you need to do is ask. Understood?"
"Er, yeah- I mean, yes ma'am," James stammered, and cursed himself in his head as he popped the wand into the corner of his mouth as he mulled over her words.
"But no more screaming and running away, hmm?"
"Shure," he mumbled around the licorice. She grinned at him, which still made him queasy, but he had to give her credit for trying.
"Good," she nodded. "Now, let me get you an excuse slip."
...
The fright from his first class was forgotten by the lunch hour. They had gotten odd looks for it, but Travis wanted to spend lunch with Ron and Harry, so James and Brian dragged a sheepish Kiara along as the made to sit at the Gryffindor table.
"Heard you screamed like a... kitten in Transfiguration class today," Harry teased as they sat across from him and Ron..
James scowled at his twin.
"You've... gato be kitten right meow," Dean Thomas, another first year Gryffindor snickered as he flung a bread roll at him.
If looks could kill, Dean Thomas would be ashes on the spot.
"At least you're scared of something somewhat dangerous," Neville offered as he looked downcast. "I'm practically scared of everything."
James narrowed eyes told Neville all he need to know about how helpful he was being.
"C'mon, James," Brian teased. "I thought you were supposed to the cool cat."
James's eye twitched at Brian's sudden but inevitable betrayal.
"Aw, what's the matter, mate?" Ron chuckled over a mouthful of beef stew. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Ronald Weasley," James seethed, arms crossed. "I may not fully comprehend the scientific language and terminology, but I have read enough about human anatomy to make your death as slow and painful as humanly possible."
"You probably shouldn't read so much," Fred joked as he and George found seats near them.
"Yeah," George agreed. "You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat!"
"I hate all of you."
"Hate to let the cat out of the bag," Parvati Patil giggled . "But you might want to eat, you have flying lessons after lunch!"
"To think I thought you were kinda cute."
"It is kinda cute when you think about it," Lavender Brown added, looking at him with faux introspection. "You claim to be such a trickster, and yet McGonagall is so strict... just think, its hard for the mice to play when the cat never goes away."
"That wasn't even remotely funny, and how dare you compare me to a rodent."
"They have a point," Travis smiled big. "Its about time someone made you look like a cat ate your canary."
James threw his arms up in a huff, standing. "This is ridiculous! Screw all of you!"
James grabbed a slice of ham and a dinner roll and stormed away, refusing to admit that there ribbing was something he'd do, too, much less admit that it'd been...
Halfway decent comedy.
He was over it by the time flying lessons were ready to start, and he was the first of the first years to class. The rest filtered into the Transfiguration Quad, and Kiara, Travis and Brian lined up next to him when Madame Hooch had everyone line up.
"Take your places to the left of your brooms, please," the hawkish looking woman ordered. Her silvery, spiky hair ruffled lightly in the wind, and her narrow, sharp eyes were almost yellow in the sun.
Once everyone was lined up, she clapped to get everyone's attention. "Lined up? Good. Now, hold your right hands over the brooms and say, 'Up!'"
"Up!" was chorused across the courtyard. James's broom followed commands, and flew into his hand with ease, followed shortly by Travis and Kiara's.
"Haha!" Travis laughed triumphantly.
"Oh!" Kiara squeaked, shocked that it had worked.
"Come on, you stupid hunk of wood," Brian complained, having a hard time getting his broom to cooperate. "Up!"
"We will not be starting this lesson until everyone has a broom in their hands!" Hooch demanded, making many people groan, as over half the gathered Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws still couldn't get their brooms off the ground. A boy James recognized as Zacharias Smith was already looking bored, arms and broom crossed his chest as he tapped his foot. Padma Patil and Hannah Abbott were on the verge of tears as their brooms rolled on the ground. Ernie Macmillan cheered when he finally got his to fly into his hand, but when he threw his arms up in triumph, he hit Terry Boot in the face with the end. Hannah Abbott got smacked in the face because she was standing on the tail twigs when she called her broom up.
James propped his broom on its front end and leaned on it, watching in smug satisfaction as Brian tried again and again. "I thought you supposed to be the master of all things wood with long necks, Cool Cat."
Brian glared at him, but as soon as Hooch's back was turned, he yelled, "Up!" and swooped down to grabbed his broom off the ground, a practice that everyone else started to emulate.
"Every one has a broom? Excellent. Now mount your brooms with your right leg- I said your right, Mrs. Patil- and rest your left leg on the kickstops."
James and Travis, as well as Zacharias Smith, apparently, had been through these motions already and followed the instructions easily. Michael Corner almost fell off when his broom tried to zoom off because he slipped, and Morag MacDougal, being so tall, had a hard time finding her center of gravity and almost lost her balance.
"Now that we're all properly mounted-" Hooch glared at Travis, who was already hovering a few feet off the ground and was leaning forward on his broom, looking bored. "Gently kick off the ground with your left foot and try to hover, no more than a few feet! Follow Mr. Barker's example, if need be. Five points to Ravenclaw, by the way."
Travis nodded his thanks to Hooch and grinned at James, who rolled his eyes.
"Show off," He muttered to his friend as he gently kicked off the ground and flew a lazy circle around his brother.
"Somebody's gotta dethrone the King sometime, my friend," Travis shot back, holding his hand out and giving James a high five as he passed in front of him.
"Don't hold the shaft too firmly, Wood Master" James admonished Brian as he too kicked off the ground and almost nose dived into the grass.
"Real funny, Scaredy Cat," Brian chuffed as he struggled to maintain his balance.
"I think its hilarious," Travis laughed.
"Thanks for the help, dicks!"
"Language, Mr. Gates!" Hooch hollered at him.
"What are friends for?" James and Travis replied, laughing again.
"Yeah, and since when did you start talking us? " James mocked. "You never cuss!"
"I think it's because he wants to fit in with us more, Jimmy Dean."
"Au contraire, dear Travis, if he continues to make us laugh like this, he will always have a place with us. And don't call me Jim. Makes me sound old."
"Aww, shaddup, you're ugly enough to be considered old!"
"Hey," Kiara laughed a bit louder than her usual, the rare, big smile on her round face breaking their banter. She was hovering on the broom without difficulty and even held her arms out wide. "This is actually kinda easy!"
"Who knew you had it in ya, huh?" Travis congratulated her. "You're picking it up quicker than we did."
Hooch had walked in front them and inspected their grips and stances. She only had to tweak Kiara's forward hand's grip a bit, and commended them for knowing what they were doing when a shriek erupted. Morag MacDougal's broom had started acting up, and was starting to move forward as she freaked and lunged forward to hug it to stay on.
"Don't lean forward!" Hooch ordered as she started to run forward to catch her, but it was too late. Morag's broom bolted, with the Ravenclaw holding on for dear life. Her screams echoed and grew distant across the courtyard as she sped away towards the sky and away from the castle. "Give me your broom!" Hooch ordered to Travis, who had already went into motion.
"No time!" he called back as he took off.
"Get back here!" Hooch hollered desperately.
"Not again," James Dean whined, growing concerned for his brother's hero complex. Giving Hooch a two fingered salute and waving at Zacharias, he, too, took to the sky in pursuit of his wayward fellow Ravenclaw. The stocky, blonde haired Hufflepuff kicked off, and they left Hooch huffing in rage.
The schools brooms were not... ideal. James's shook as he started to reach maximum speed, which wasn't very fast, considering. Morag's seemed to have the same problem, as well, and it seemed to be chattering her as it began to lean to the right.
Travis had caught up to her, though, and looking back, he pointed at James and Zacharias, then pointed to below Morag. James nodded and leveled his altitude and led Zacharias beneath them. Travis reached out to her quivering and bucking broom, and told her something James couldn't hear over the wind. The screaming girl was starting to lose her grip, and when she refused to take Travis's hand, he instead opted to grab Morag's broom, which revolted under his hand...
And tossed Morag into open sky.
Already there and waiting, James and Zacharias nodded to each other and maneuvered beneath her and gently lifted up to meet her, each softly catching the taller girl by an arm. Morag grabbed onto their shoulders for dear life. In tandem, they slowly rolled their brooms back to the Courtyard, which from what James could see, now was filled with a lot more people. Travis, rogue broom in one hand, pulled up behind them, ready to swoop in and grab Morag if she fell again.
Cheers were coming from the people in the courtyard, but James gulped when he realized both Flitwick and Dumbledore were part of the crowd. They came in slowly and gently, laying the terrified Morag MacDougal at the feet of the resident Healer, Madam Pomfrey. Swooping around to a clear patch of grass, James, Travis and Zacharias landed and were swarmed by students cheering and clapping them on the back. The crowd was split in two by Dumbledore, who led an angry Hooch, a concerned Professor Sprout, and a wheezing Flitwick, who struggled to keep up with his colleague's long strides.
Dumbledore came to a stop in front of James, who pointed at Travis as if to say, 'His fault.' To his credit, Travis looked away and up, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head in feigned nonchalance. Zacharias looked a bit smug, but was obviously trying to hide it by crossing his arms across his chest and wrenching his face. Dumbledore looked neutrally between the three before slowly starting to smile.
He gave a laugh, and patted Travis on the top of his head. "It takes a special kind of person to run towards danger when everyone else runs away from it, especially when unshackled from the burden of responsibility. Foolhardy, the critics would call them, but to the ones they save, they are easily seen as heroes. Fifty points to Mr. Barker for Ravenclaw house."
"Headmaster!" Hooch gasped angrily. "They disobeyed my commands!"
Dumbledore ignored her and looked to James and Zacharias. "And it takes great humility to work with someone that is usually seen as a rival to accomplish great feats such as what you two performed this afternoon. To save a life by coordinating with a mere hand gesture and a nod... truly marvelous. For saving the life of your classmate without trying to hog the glory to yourselves, I award fifty points to Mr. Potter for Ravenclaw, and fifty points to Mr. Smith for Hufflepuff.
"Are you serious, Professor!?" Hooch demanded, shocked as she shifted her angry gaze Dumbledore, three boys, and their Heads of House.
"I am not quite ready to punish heroic behavior, Rolanda. They saved your student's life, today, remember. Now, I believe that should be all the flying lessons for today, yes? I think, perhaps, I'll go get a spot of tea..."
...
A weeping Morag MacDougal was taken to the infirmary to calm down, and due to the "shocking events" they had "all had to endure," Dumbledore decided to cancel the rest of the first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw classes that day. Madam Hooch dismissed them with a stern glare and told them when their next class would be, and shot off toward the Quidditch pitch on her broom. The rest of the class disappeared into the Great Hall as the three stayed out in the courtyard, tossing Travis's football around to fill in the free time their afternoon afforded them.
"You know, guys, we need to find a new name for football," James said randomly as he tossed the pigskin up to Brian, sending it high in the air and well over thirty yards, right into his running hands.
"Oh, God, not this again!" Travis huffed as he snatched the ball from Brian as he jogged back.
"Hey!"
"Because we're in Britain. Or, er, Scotland, but hey, they're practically the same anyway-"
"Don't let anybody else hear you say that," Brian quipped as he tried to steal back the egg-shaped ball.
"And in Britain, 'football' is soccer. If we call this thing a football, the magical people who have actually heard of football are going to look at us like we're insane. So I say we start calling it… hand-egg."
"Hand-egg?" Brian laughed incredulously, finally stealing the ball back. "You tried calling it that a long time ago, and we shot it down then."
"I prefer football," Travis muttered as he fell on his face trying to tackle Brian.
"Or maybe grid-iron," Brian laughed at Travis, who was getting back on his feet. "That isn't nearly as confusing, we could call it that-"
"The tribe has spoken. Hand-egg it is!"
"Hey, that's not fair!"
"Quit whining, Brian. You've been doing it all day."
"Better to whine than make a decree without having any real power, King Nothing."
"King Nothing? I take offense, Court Jester Bwine..."
"Good."
"Oi," Roger Davies called out as he walked up to them with Desmond Worthwright. The three turned to regard them with curiosity. "Can I have a word, Potter?"
"Uh, sure," James affirmed cautiously.
Roger looked around suspiciously. "In private?"
Desmond nodded in agreement, looking over his shoulder. "How about Hagrid's?"
"Hagrid?" James asked stupidly, looking at them shocked.
Travis cursed. "We haven't seen him yet!"
"I take it that is a yes?" Desmond asked hopefully.
...
"Well, can' say that I'm disappointed to see yeh three," Hagrid rumbled with a smile when they finally made it to Hagrid's hut, which was only a small jaunt from the castle. "And you brought some friends?"
"Yeah," James answered as he walked in, taking a seat at his table. "This is Desmond, he's this year's Head boy. And this is Roger."
"All righ'?" Hagrid greeted with a friendly smile and nod.
"How goes it?" Desmond greeted back with a nod. "Well, I've never been in here before. It's…"
"It ain't the best, but its home," Hagrid grinned humbly.
Desmond nodded slowly. "You mind if we talk here? Me and Roger have something to ask Potter and Gates, but we don't want certain… people hearing it."
"Not at all, make yerselves at home. So, what is it that is so secret that you need to talk to 'em in meh hut?"
"Quidditch."
"Quidditch?" James asked, incredulous.
"Quidditch?" Travis asked, enthusiastic.
"Aye," Roger affirmed. "Me and Desmond have a proposition."
"We've been talking, and seeing the way you handled yourself in your first flying lesson with Madame Hooch, I want Roger and myself to train you," Desmond explained. "So that somebody decent can take my place next year on the team."
James stared. They wanted him and Travis to train to be Chasers? James had honestly never thought about playing Quidditch, it never appealed to him. In fact, he had completely forgotten their conversation two nights ago about him trying out.
"You want to what, again?"
"Train. I'm a seventh year, which means this is my last year. The chances of me winning the Quidditch House Cup this year are slim, but I can help pave the way for the future so that you all can. I will be gone, and Roger wants you to take over for me, and he wants Travis on board, too. And after what I just watched today, so do I."
"You watch us after one flying lesson and you're convinced we're you're next big hero?"
Desmond laughed and shook his head. "Not entirely, but when you accurately threw that hand-egg over fifty meters a few minutes ago, I was sold on the idea."
"I knew it! I knew that was what we should- I mean, yeah, it was nothing special."
...
The next day of flight lessons was just as eventful. The Slytherins and Gryffindors, according to the story James had heard, had an even more entertaining time than the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's. Apparently, rumor had it that Harry had made a fool out of Malfoy for picking on Neville Longbottom, who had fallen off his broom and broken his wrist, ending up with him in the Medical Wing. Flying as if he was born with wings, he had dived fifty feet, past McGonagall's window and caught a Remembrall Malfoy had thrown before it shattered on the Entry Hall's front steps. According to the gossip, instead of expelling him for flying without an instructor present, McGonagall rewarded him by appointing Harry Seeker of the Gryffindor team. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, had tried to keep it hush-hush, but all of the Gryffindor first years were whispering about it and word around Hogwarts traveled fast. Malfoy himself had complained that Harry shouldn't have been allowed to play, seeing as he couldn't even own a broom at school yet, but oddly Dumbledore consented to it. Harry and Ron pulled James and Travis aside at lunch and told them about it outside of the Great Hall. Harry was nervous, while Ron was ecstatic.
"Youngest Seeker in a century!" He continuously exclaimed, never losing his admiring tone.
"Wasn't Mom a Seeker?" Travis asked in between Ron's excited outbursts.
"Yeah, Dad was a Chaser since his second year, she was Seeker from her fifth year on up. They won the Cup for Gryffindor twice, so I heard."
"Wicked!" Ron cried in veneration. "My brother Charlie never won the House Cup, and everyone said he was the best Seeker Gryffindor had in years!"
"Well, apparently Mum was better," Harry boasted as he gained a bit of confidence. He gave Ron a triumphant grin.
"That's the spirit!" James and Travis chorused, causing all four to laugh as they stumbled into the Great Hall. James and Travis followed Ron and Harry to the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Fred and George despite the odd look Percy gave them for being at the wrong table.
"Where's Brian?"
"Oh, he's talking to Flitwick-"
"Professor Flitwick," Hermione Granger interrupted, taking a seat next to Percy, who nodded in agreement.
"It's polite, Potter."
"Who cares about being polite, Perfect Prefect Percy?" the Weasley twins joked.
"Granger, do you walk out of walls or something, waiting to cut people off?" Travis muttered indignantly before continuing. "He's with Flitwick, looking to join up in the school music club. Apparently he runs it."
"Ah," George said with an air of revelation. "A musician, is he?"
"Yeah, you could say he lives for it," James explained casually. Then he leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you two. You remember that prank I wanted to plan at the start of term, Travis? That big one?"
"Yeah…?"
"I got the perfect one."
"What's that?"
"Hey, look at this!" Harry burst out, holding up a several-week-old Prophet. "Remember that old vault that Hagrid took some grimy package out of back at Gringotts?"
"Oh no!" James fake gasped as he read the first line of the article. Trying to steer the conversation back to his plans, he tried to continue. "Anyways-"
"Somebody broke into it," Harry insisted.
"So?" James scoffed.
"Nobody breaks into Gringott's," Fred gawked. "Nobody."
"And it was the very night that we were there, too."
"Again, so? It has nothing to do with us, so why bother caring? We aren't exactly 'in the loop' with Hagrid's business."
Harry looked at James and Travis with a look of annoyance, while Ron and the twins seemed remotely interested. "It has to be important," Harry pushed. "It has to."
"Having a last meal, Potter?" Draco Malfoy drawled as he and his two chums walked up. "You're lucky you aren't getting on the train back to the Muggles!"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other.
"What is a wizard's duel?" James asked.
"And what do you mean, you're his second?" Travis demanded.
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, tearing into his Shepard's pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other I reckon. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."
"Expect him to refuse?" James interjected incredulously. "Given the number of times we've stood up to that idiot, how in his right mind would he think Harry'd refuse?"
Ron shrugged. "Never claimed to be an expert on what that git's got for brains."
"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Harry asked.
"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Brian suggested.
"Excuse me." They all looked up. It was Hermione Granger.
"You're excused," James dismissed, waving his hand at her to go away.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.
Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"
"Bet you could," Ron and Travis muttered.
Nonplussed, she forged ahead. "You mustn't go skulking around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught! You're bound to be. You shouldn't be so selfish."
"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.
"Good-bye," said Ron.
"You're excused," James repeated.
"Ta ta," Brian laughed.
"Toodles," Travis waved his fingers at her.
…
It was halfway to midnight as James, Travis, and Brian were huddled in a shadowed alcove halfway down the hall from the trophy room. Harry had told them to stay out of it, that he and Ron could handle it, but James wasn't going to let Harry die on that hill. He had brainstormed on it, and talked it over with Travis and Brian, and brainstormed over it some more when he came to the conclusion that Malfoy was setting them up.
If he was right, the boys had their backs.
Scuttering could be heard, and the three tensed in silence. Footfalls could be heard approaching, and soon, Harry and Ron emerged.
"Really gotta teach those two how to sneak," Travis whispered.
"Shh," James shushed, but his jaw dropped when Hermione Granger followed them, looking incensed in her hot pink bathrobe and as bossy as ever. "What. The. Hell."
"Shh," Brian shushed him, and then he, too, let his jaw drop as the last person they all expected brought up the rear. Neville looked absolutely terrified. "'Oh, you all stay away, don't lemme drag you all down,' he said!"
"Shh," Travis shushed as the four Gryffindors ambled into the trophy room.
James stayed put. He was here to back up Harry and Ron only if things went too far downhill. It didn't settle right with him, and he was sure Harry was just being stupid, but he had to play the cards he was dealt.
Midnight came and went. It started to reek more and more like the setup they all thought it was, and that was confirmed when Argus Filch came around the corner and walked right into the trophy room. James groaned internally, his suspicions proved right. Carefully, he led the other three to the door, when Travis tapped him on the shoulder.
"How we playing this?" he whispered.
"I dunno yet," James answered honestly. "Let's see how they handle this."
'Handle it' was something they did not, in fact, manage to do. James was almost to the entrance of the trophy room when he heard Neville squeak, and then a great crash fell as what James could only assume was the suits of armor and showcases tumbling over. Cringing, he poked his head in to see Harry and Hermione standing upright.
"Run!" Harry thundered, stooping over to help Ron and Neville up before they bolted. Harry led them away from a now screaming Filch who was in hot pursuit. Harry and the others disappeared through the far exit to the room, but James wasn't taking any chances.
"Stupefy!" he whispered, and hit Filch with the stunning spell. He looked to Brian and Travis as the glorified janitor fell to the floor unconscious. "Scatter! Find them, wherever they went, and get 'em back to their Tower!"
The three took of down the hallway and coming to the staircase, split up. James stayed on the third floor, while Brian went up and Travis went down. Slinking as fast and silent as he could down the walkway, he came to an intersection that split to stairs and another hallway.
The Cerberus hallway.
Surely they hadn't gone that way, right? Hermione was supposed to be smart and would have reminded them, certainly... and nope. A grimy hand print about the size of Ron's was smeared across the corner of the entrance into the hall, and James groaned, taking off after them.
They were in sight when Hermione pointed her wand at not just any door, but the Cerberus door. He didn't dare call out, so he settled on sprinting to catch them in time. Hermione used the same spell George had the other night, and the door creaked open. Harry threw it open, and they all made to rush in when-
"AHHHHH!" they all screamed.
Amateurs! James seethed. Rule Number Six, NEVER MAKE TOO MUCH NOISE!
Peeves the Poltergeist manifested out of nowhere, to investigate the noise, but when he looked at the first year Gryffindors, then to James, he quickly put two and two together and gave James a two finger salute before disappearing. James silently thanked his ally as he made it to the door. He yanked Neville backwards and had Ron and Harry horse collared just in time to pull them out of the helldog's triple threat bite. Hermione fell back on her rear, and was struggling to back pedal. Snagging her by the arm pits, he dragged her sorry carcass out before the hound got her, too.
"Idiots!" he admonished as he dragged Hermione to her feet. "Half the damn castle freaking heard you!"
Travis and Brian appeared around the corner, and he shoved Harry and Ron towards them.
"Get them outta here! I'll lead these two-" he jerked his thumb at Hermione and Neville, "-Morons back another way, that way we don't all get caught! Peeves, if you're still here, cover them! I'll pay you back!"
"Right, scatter!" Travis told Brian, who nodded. They each grabbed one by the elbow and dragged them away, and James turned to Hermione and Neville.
"Let's go, this way!" James led them further down the third floor hallway.
A pair of Slytherin Prefects bolted into sight as James rounded a corner, and he shoved them into an alcove before squeezing tight with them, blending into the shadows. "Breath deep and quiet," he whispered to Neville, pressing a hand on the boy's back. "We can't be heard."
Neville tried his best, which was good enough, thankfully, as the Slytherins trampled past. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he led them back towards Gryffindor tower.
"Stupid, idiotic, moronic, dolts," James ranted harshly at them as they sneaked. "Clueless, foolish, freakish, amateurs!"
"Its not my fault!" Hermione defended. "I tried to stop them! The only reason I'm even here is because the Fat Lady left the portrait!"
"Great job," James snidely replied. "Besides, I don't care about you all being out and about, hell, I encourage it-"
"You would!" Hermione snapped.
"But for Christ's sake you can do it without bumbling around the castle knocking over every statue and alerting every damned prefect to what you're up to! Its gonna take weeks before they calm down about the security!"
"That's what you're worried about?" Hermione scoffed. "How hard it is for you to sneak around the castle? You sure have your priorities straight!"
"Says the nerd out skulking around like a felon!"
"Guys!" Neville whimpered, looking fit to never to talk ever again. "Can we talk this over back in the Common Room?"
James shook his head and fell silent as they arrived to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Pig snout," Hermione muttered to the portrait. The Fat Lady gave them a condescending look, but opened up. Walking into the Common, they found Travis, Ron, Harry, and Brian catching their breath around the dying embers of the fire.
"Bloody hell," Ron gasped. "Who in their right mind keeps something like that locked up in a school?
"Hogwarts, apparently," Travis muttered, standing upright with his hands on his hips as he got his breathing under control.
"Did any of you even use your eyes?" Hermione snipped, catching her bad attitude again. "It was standing over a trap door. It's guarding something."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness," James griped as he slung himself onto a couch. "I was too busy saving your sorry hide to look at that damn things feet."
Hermione glared at all of them except Neville, who still looked shell shocked. "Well, I hope you're all proud of yourselves. We could have all been killed-or worse, expelled. I'm going to bed before you idiots get me into any more trouble."
"Not that we'd want you along, anyways," Travis muttered.
"She has a wonderful set of priorities," Ron and James chorused, before looking at each other and falling into fits of laughter.
"Think its clear to head back to our room?" Brain asked.
James looked at his watch as he caught his breath, and sighed. "Prolly not... The whole school is on high alert... we'll just camp out in here, if that's okay?"
Harry shrugged. "Don't think its a crime."
James grinned. "Well, if it is, it isn't the worst one we committed tonight..."
…