'Try not get into too much trouble this year, James,' Ginny said, wrapping him in a fierce hug. There was a certain resignation in her voice, as if she knew she were asking the rain to not be too wet today.

The Potters were gathered on Platform nine-and-three-quarters, with Harry and Ginny bidding the children farewell. All around them, the platform seethed with life and energy. Garishly-dressed witches and wizards in pitiable attempts at Muggle attire endlessly caught James' attention with their sequined purses and feathery cloaks. He looked down at his own t-shirt and trainers and wondered how they just couldn't seem to get it.

'I won't, Mum. I promise.'

'Didn't we have this exact conversation at this time last year?'

'Well I didn't know Rain had been taking by Steelhearts, this time last year!'

Ginny just sighed, and planted a kiss on the top of James' head. He scrubbed the spot angrily, trying to get his signature windswept look back.

'Be safe this year, James,' Harry said firmly, clasping his hand, and laying another on James' shoulder. 'You remember how tense things were when we got you back last year… well the Ministry isn't going to like getting bested, even if they say they'll play nice.'

'They can't touch me at Hogwarts, Dad. Not after last year.'

Harry nodded, but didn't respond to James' comment directly. 'Just stay safe. And look out for your friends, they are the most important thing, now.'

'Always, Dad.'

They parted with a stern nod, and James led Al and Lily on to the train with a final backward glance and a wave farewell to their parents.

The press to get on to the train was as vibrant and thronging as ever. Students cried out in glee to be reunited with friends, parents waved tear-streaked goodbyes to their sons and daughters. Still more folk dashed back and forth, having forgotten this spellbook or that cauldron. Or even, once, a wand. James made liberal use of his elbows to carve out a path through it all for the three of them and their trunks. He shrugged off the tumultuous atmosphere and didn't allow it to sweep him away, focusing only on his goal.

'Bloody hell,' he breathed, once safely in the confines of the carriage. It was markedly less busy in here. 'More of them every year. When will wizards ever stop breeding?'

'I'm more interested to know how long they can keep an exponentially growing population hidden,' Al mused. 'Rose and I generated some models based on what limited population information we had-'

'Ugh!' James and Lily groaned together, in perfect unison. 'You're such a Ravenclaw.'

Al rolled his eyes, used to his siblings' interruptions. 'Has anyone seen Rose?'

'Knowing Aunt Hermione, she's probably been here, ready and waiting for a half-hour already,' Lily said, checking her watch.

'I'll go look for her up the front, then.' With that, Al trundled off, dragging his trunk in tow.

James dove in to the first available compartment he saw and, to his surprise, so did Lily.

'What are you doing here?'

Lily sat delicately on the edge of the seat opposite, smoothing the bright yellow fabric of her dress. It seemed a brand new one, that James had never seen before. But then, seldom was he ever found guilty of paying attention to the clothes Lily wore.

'Just waiting a little while… for my friends.'

James and Lily had shared a home for nearly fourteen years, now. He knew how to wind her up, he knew what to say to calm her down again. He knew she liked to sleep in till lunch time on the Weekends. Merlin, but he even knew what times she used the bathroom most days. He also knew – despite her newly adopted Slytherin-ness – when she was lying.

And she was certainly lying.

James' Gryffindor mind was not entirely equipped with just what to do with this information. He wished Holly were here – no. Odette. He wished Odette were here. Why had he even thought of Holly?

'Is everything… all right?' he asked tentatively. If she was scared of getting bullied, well, that was something James could help with. He couldn't technically lose house points for duelling on the train if the school year hadn't started yet. Could he?

'Fine, thank you.' Lily's reply was shrill and sharp. He saw a flicker of annoyance dart across her face. There and gone like a little starling.

So. He knew she was lying. Now she knew that he knew she was lying. And he knew that, as well. James suddenly grabbed at his head. This was too much for his Gryffindor brain to follow.

'So, er, what electives are you taking this year?'

All around them, students were trickling on to the train. Somewhere out on the platform, a bell tolled – five minutes until departure. A wave of titters and cries rose to answer it as the last, frantic efforts were put into the farewell process.

'Divination and Arithmancy,' Lily answered shortly.

Well, then. Silence it was.

They waited thus for a few minutes more, until, blessedly, the door slid open to their compartment and James could physically feel the awkwardness slide out through it.

'Cat!' he cried leaping to his feet – partly in relief – and bounding over to give her a hug.

James was taken aback as she lifted him effortlessly off his feet in the embrace. She was still a good hand taller than he was.

'I've missed you!' Cat cried with glee. 'You didn't respond to a single owl!'

'Sorry,' James mumbled sheepishly. 'Grounded. Hey, what happened to your… to you?'

Cat stepped back and looked down at her dress – a sparkling silver number dotted all over with what James suspected were real, live flowers – it was marred by several thick smears of sooty black criss-crossing her body. Her hair – which she kept short of her shoulders ever since James hexed it off last year – was well past artful disarray and into the territory of having just been hit with an Electrifying Jinx.

'Oh, I was helping the conductor of the train,' she explained brightly. 'I shovelled coal for him.'

'Couldn't he do that, you know, with magic?' Lily asked.

Cat very nearly tackled her with another hug by way of response. Cat had been a hugger as long as James had known her.

'By Morgana, Kattala, what I wouldn't give for your… everything,' Lily said, standing with hands on hips and surveying Cat with an odd, appraising eye.

Cat giggled. 'Well you can't have everything. But you can have a flower, if you like.'

And she plucked one off her dress, offering it to Lily, who graciously accepted, placing it carefully in her hair.

'Pansy?' Cat turned to James, proffering a small, purple flower.

'Oh, er, no thanks Cat. It would, erm… clash with my shirt.'

Cat just shrugged, and popped the flower whole into her mouth, then plopped down opposite James, leaving a grey sooty smear on the seat as she did so.

Tristan was the second to arrive, just as the whistle was blowing and the train about to depart. But this time, both James and Cat were beaten to their greetings by Lily, who shot bolt upright from her seat and darted to open the door of the compartment for him.

'Hello Tristan,' she said, in a voice that didn't sound at all like the Lily James knew. He watched as she moved to tuck a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear.

Tristan's eyes darted immediately to James. He looked mighty uncomfortable all of a sudden. 'Er, hi, Lily. How are you.'

Lily giggled, as if Tristan had just told the most hilarious joke. 'I'm really great, actually. How are you?'

She placed one hand on the side of the compartment door, now physically blocking Tristan from entering. His uncomfortable looks were beginning to take on a pleading edge.

'Good thanks, and you?' he practically whimpered.

'Er… I-'

James seized on the awkward hesitation and barged Lily out of the way, shaking Tristan's hand and finally allowing him in to their compartment. The look of relief he received was overwhelming.

'Alright, mate?' James asked, struggling to lift Tristan's heavy trunk from one end.

'It's a bloody zoo out there,' Tristan said, shaking his head. Lily seemed to think this was hilarious. 'Where do we keep finding all of these wizards?'

'Beats me,' James grunted from where he was still struggling.

Cat leaned forwards and grabbed both ends of Tristan's trunk and lifted it effortlessly up into the racks above their head. The entire group paused for a moment, and James and Tristan shared an incredulous look.

'Well- it was just- I couldn't get a good grip on it,' James stammered.

'There are literal bricks in there,' Tristan said, shaking his head in awe at Cat. 'How did you-'

'Oh, well, it wasn't just today that I was shovelling coal for the train conductor. I've been doing it all summer on all of the magical train lines. Mummy said I ought to get a summer job. You should see the places I've been! And the people I can arm-wrestle!'

The conversation promptly devolved into flip-flopping between a series of bizarre anecdotes from Cat on her travels over summer, and Tristan trying to compare to see who had the stronger arms. When he finally did suggest an arm wrestle, Lily gave an audible huff and stood to leave.

'Well, I'll be going,' she said loudly, not really directed at anyone. 'Bye, Tristan.'

He froze for a moment, and Cat thumped his hand down onto the seat in victory. 'B-bye Lily.'

'Bye, Lily,' James added.

'Whatever, loser.'

And with a final, sullen look in Cat's direction, Lily stalked off, closing the compartment door much more firmly than was strictly necessary. James shook his head in disbelief. She was mental. Tristan wasn't quite meeting his eye. He needed to have words with Odette.

The train slowly gathered speed as the trio laughed and joked their way out of the greater London area. Buildings and roadways soon gave way to rolling green hills and hedged fields as they sped north. Not long after they passed over the glistening surface of a large lake, Fred and Clip joined them, trailed by a rather irate-looking Cassie.

'No, Fred, you cannot let a weasel loose in a carriage full of first-years,' she was angrily explaining.

'All I'm saying,' Fred countered patiently, 'Is that it's not technically against the school rules.'

'Just because it's not explicitly written in the rulebook doesn't mean it isn't against the rules! The Hogwarts rules were drafted by respected, sane individuals. It's no fault of their own that they couldn't possibly account for every possible iteration of insanity that you conjure up in that wool-stuffed cavern you call a brain Fred Weasley!'

'It's great to see you guys!' James shouted, before Fred had the chance to actually produced a weasel from his bag.

'Tell her, mate,' Fred grinned by way of introduction. 'Tell her I'm in the right.'

James planted his hands on hips and did his best to look admonishing. 'Honestly, mate, get with it. Letting a weasel loose on some first years? Seriously?'

Fred's smile faltered. Cassie beamed. 'James, it's so wonderful to see you've matured-'

'Everyone knows that a ferret is the way to go. They're much more lively, and will give a far better scare.'

James pulled Cassie into a one-armed hug as she gave a defeated groan that sounded as if her very soul was billowing out of her deflated body. 'I hate you all so much,' she mumbled into James' chest, and the whole group laughed together, sitting back in their seats and resuming the easy, comfortable familiarity that only friends who had been through as much as they had could share. As if they'd been apart a matter of hours, rather than the weeks that had separated them over the summer holidays.

Because the strength of spirit of the young holds a certain indomitability to it. Fuelled by bravado and ego and the very real belief that they are invincible. And so they slipped, slowly but surely, from the grips of the horrors of the year past. The small amount of worry each had been harbouring – scared that they wouldn't be reacting properly, that they had healed too soon, or not enough – slipped away beneath easy conversation, free laughs, and the comparably paltry burden of upcoming school life.

It wasn't until the conversation slipped and fell, to land on the topic of the obvious absence to their group, that a hint of sobriety descended, and a whole copse of pine and fir flashed past the window without a word being spoken.

'How do you think Rain is doing?' Cassie asked in to a lull of conversation. The lull soon became an empty gulf.

'I… don't know,' James offered honestly. 'I've been grounded all summer, I haven't been able to write to anyone.'

'Which explains why you never responded about my brilliant plan to turn all the Hogwarts portraits inside-out,' Fred jibed. As usual, he offered levity as a ladder back from the brink they all were circling. For once, nobody took it. The silenced stretched once more.

'Renshaw will look after her though, won't she?' Clip asked, his voice thick with concern.

'Doesn't strike me as the motherly type,' Tristan answered. 'But she does owe us one…'

James smiled, but it lacked any mirth. 'As if Renshaw has ever done anything for someone other than herself. She's a better option than the Ministry running Hogwarts, and she's been good to us, in her own weird way, but that'll only continue so long as we are aligned with her. So long as we're doing what she wants us to do. Remember second year…'

There was a round of grim nods, and they all as one seemed to settle back in their seats and turn their gazes inwards for a moment. James had been afforded rather a lot of thinking time over the holidays, and this was the conclusion that he had come to. He knew they hadn't made a mistake in rescuing Renshaw. The Glorious Sacrifice and Calantha Merriweather had made him painfully aware of that. He knew there was more to the story between her and Valerie Dufour that she wasn't telling, and he'd never find out just what that was with her locked away. And he had a sense, a feeling that was born deep in the pit of his stomach that that story would be critical in what was to come.

And so, he knew he'd made the right decision. But he vowed to be cautious nonetheless. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Renshaw's stewardship of Rain over the summer holidays. A time that would be so critical in a lost young girl stripped of her life's memories. But he was under no illusions that they'd done anything but loose a fox, in rescuing Renshaw. And they were merely the chickens before her. Safe, only so long as she didn't choose to snap her jaws in their direction.

James pricked his ears up and dragged himself out of his reverie at the sounds of an animated conversation taking over their carriage.

'…frankly ridiculous,' Cassie was saying. 'To think that little blonde strumpet would ever be fit for such a role is ludicrous in the extreme. Honestly, a toad would be more suited to the job. And easier on the eyes, to boot.'

James shot a confused look over at Fred, hoping to get caught up.

'So, did anybody actually get made prefect, then?' Fred asked.

James' eyebrows shot up. He'd completely forgot that this was the year the school chose prefects. He'd spent all his time fuming about being grounded and brooding over what to do about Rain and Renshaw. A pang of disappointment suddenly hit him – this was also the first real year he had a shot at Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, now that Carina Swift had departed. He and Lynch were two of the most senior on the team, and the only ones who had been in it since first-year.

He pushed the thought aside as Tristan raise an uncomfortable hand, and they all looked at him incredulously.

'I thought most of Hufflepuff house hated you,' James asked.

'Trust me mate, I'm as baffled as you are. One minute they're threatening to ostracize me, the next they're putting me forward as prefect. Bit of a weird one for someone who is supposedly the "worst Hufflepuff ever".'

They all congratulated him, even Cassie managed to not look too sullen. They then spent a good deal of the journey speculating on who else had been made prefects. They fuelled the conversation with a good helping of sweets and pastries from the trolley, and Cassie even went so far as to break out a roll of parchment and draw up a table for sweeps. James guessed Emry Sameer from Gryffindor – a rival to Cassie in terms of intelligence, not to mention being involved in almost every club Hogwarts had to offer. He picked Bianca Petit alongside him, purely because – and he meant no offense to Cat – she was the least insane of the Gryffindor girls in their year.

There was another round of laughter at that, and Cassie gathered their money – two Sickles each – to put in a pot for the winner. They made sure to keep it circumspect, as they didn't want the Lenders getting wind of what they were up to. Fred offered to look after the kitty, but they all agreed that Cassie was the closest thing the group possessed to a responsible adult, and that she ought to be the one to do it.

It was not long after this, just as they were considering changing into their Hogwarts robes, that the group received a knock on the door of their carriage. A burly seventh-year student blocked the doorway. He had cropped blonde hair and was almost as wide as he was tall. He was wearing the yellow-and-black tie that marked him as a Hufflepuff, and a shining silver badge denoting his rank as prefect.

'Macmillan, you're with me,' he said, gesturing roughly at Tristan. 'We're going to have a little talk before the prefects meet up the front of the train. Gonna chat about expectations.'

Tristan groaned. Fred gave him a conciliatory pat on the back and a whispered word of support as he left. The moment the door was shut, Fred slammed down the shutters on the window and covered his ears.

A deep, dull whump sound shuddered the windows in their panes. James stood up to roll back the shutters, but Fred grabbed his wrist sharply.

'Wouldn't do that if I were you. Not if you want to see anything for the next fifteen minutes.'

'But poor Tristan!' Cassie gasped.

'What do you think I was whispering in his ear?' Fred retorted. 'Sweet nothings? I told him what to do. That Hufflepuff bruiser, on the other hand, looked like a dolt. Figured I'd give him a welcoming gift.'

It was a gesture that was almost certainly going to create more trouble for Tristan than it was worth, but for now, none of them complained. Hogwarts was still a few hours away yet, and as such, consequences to their actions could wait, and give way for one last chance to relax before the school year set upon them.

Sadly, it was over only too soon, and with a harsh screeching of brakes that James was sure someone ought to fix with a Muffling Charm, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform at Hogsmeade station.

The press to exit was almost as bad as it had been to get on the train in London. James led the way, with plenty of elbow and shoulder work to clear a path for the group. Out on the platform, the night was a still, clear one, and held plenty of late-summer warmth. A hint of dusky purple blushed the sky low to the west, but all light was provided by the lamps hung at regular intervals down the platform. They allowed themselves to get caught up in the tide of students as the mass of bodies flowed up the path towards where the carriages would take them to the castle proper, only just visible over the tops of the trees that fringed the Forbidden Forest.

'Firs' years, this way! Firs' years, follow me!' Hagrid great, booming voice had no trouble rolling over the chatter of a thousand anxious students. James spied his great bushy beard, now flecked with a healthy strain of grey, over the heads of the crowd, and flashed him a wave. He received a warm smile and a wink in response.

'Do you think we'll see the Thestrals, this year?' Cassie suddenly asked at James shoulder. He looked down to see worry and trepidation marring her features. She was biting heavily on her lower lip. 'I saw- in the Ministry-'

James lay a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. 'Whatever we saw, we saw it together. So we can face this together, too.'

A weak smile was her only response.

But James himself was to be made a liar no more than a few moments later, when he heard a voice calling his name through the crowd. The hordes had thinned a little, as many waited on the platform for friends and house-mates, leaving more of a steady trickle flowing up the path to the small clearing ahead that bustled with carriages and the snorting and stamping of Thestrals' hooves.

'James Potter! Mister Potter, over here, if you would.'

He gave his friends a shrug, and made hastily towards the source of the voice. It was one he recognised, and not one he ought to keep waiting, for it belonged to Galatea Renshaw, the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

'Good evening, headmistress,' James offered as he stepped clear of the flow of students. She was standing beneath the shadow of a great oak tree, which had grown warped and tilting over the years, such that it appeared to have a permanent drunken lean. Though she stood only a few yards off of the main path, the concealment of the drooping leaves was such that none who passed noticed her – certainly, James had not before she called to him.

'Yes, hello James. I haven't the time for pleasantries. I've a task for you.'

So soon? The year had barely begun. Subconsciously, James fingered the ash and bone wand he kept buried in his pocket. He noted Renshaw's eyes dart towards his hand. She barked a laugh.

'Hah. Nothing so… overt as that. As you'll know, Miss Rain has spent the entirety of the summer holidays in my care. Tonight will be the first time she is present in such a crowd, since… since her return. I would that you speak to her first. Better that she begin the night with a familiar face before becoming surrounded by so many that are alien.'

'Familiar, headmistress?' James couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

'Do not think I have allowed her to forget those closest to her. If she does not remember you from her… past life, she will at least recall you as the one who stood foremost at her bed when she reawakened. My decision is final, James. Follow me.'

Suddenly nervous, James fell in step behind his headmistress.

'Headmistress, what should I… what should we talk about?'

Renshaw paused a moment, outside a singular carriage, pulled by a sleek, black Thestral that James could very much see, as plain as a regular horse.

'She's a fifteen-year-old girl. I was given to understand that fifteen-year-old boys spend a good portion of their time longing for opportunities such as this. I'm sure you'll think of something.'

And with a flick of her wrist, the door to the carriage came open. There was a rush of cool air at James' back, and when he turned, Headmistress Renshaw was gone. With only a slight hesitation, he made his way forward and up, into the carriage that awaited.

And there she was. Seated upon the bench opposite, with her hands folded demurely in her lap, those sea-green eyes studying him quizzically. She was painfully, chest-achingly the same. But at the same time, a difference had overcome her that perhaps none other but her closest friends would notice.

The fire that had smouldered behind her eyes was gone. Eyes that James could meet easily now – the sole discomfort was his own, in his uncertainty of how to address her. But where before there had been a lambent glow, there was now a dulled, muted sort of curiosity. Her hair had been cut short – her decision or Renshaw's? It was much shorter that James ever remembered it – well off of her shoulders. It afforded him a glimpse of the golden chain that hung around her neck – her Locket. That, at least, remained.

But more even than the hair of the eyes, there was something else different, something missing. Before, she had sat even the most rickety of stools as if it were a throne. Perfect posture and regal regard lending to the illusion of a princess in a young girl's body. Now, though the posture and poise remained, she faced the world as more of a caged animal. Wary, cautious, confused and uncertain about everything. Lost. It was, perhaps, the saddest change of all.

'Were you planning on saying something, James, or are you content to engage in a staring competition the whole way up to the castle?'

'You remember me?!' So elated was he, that he threw himself across the intervening space to wrap Rain up in a hug.

Unfortunately, he did so just as the cart lurched into motion, adding a burst of momentum to his lunge. He ended up sort of headbutting her in the chin, while receiving a knee in his ribs that left him gasping for breath as he fumbled his way back to his own seat looking incredibly sheepish.

'Sorry,' he said. But Rain didn't immediately respond. She was sticking out her tongue and becoming more and more cross-eyed as she tilted her head from side to side.

'Ib it beeding?' she asked.

James couldn't help it. He sat there, staring with his mouth agape.

Rain saw his expression and clicked her jaw closed. 'I'm sorry,' she stammered, suddenly blushing. 'Was that not… normal?'

'It's perfectly acceptable after somebody smacks you in the mouth,' James laughed. 'It's just that it was the most un-Rain-like thing I've ever seen you do.'

She looked suddenly sad at that, and fell into a heavy silence. Her eyes were fixed on the floor between their feet, and she took to picking awkwardly at the sleeve of her robe. James cursed himself as a fool for not thinking before he spoke.

'It's just that I don't know who Rain is anymore,' she said to James' knees.

James leaned forwards and took both of her hands in his own. They had re-joined the main road up to the castle, and the lanterns hung betwixt the branches of the towering pines illuminated a single glistening tear on Rain's cheek. 'She is whoever you want her to be,' he said softly, and was rewarded with a small, shy smile from between the curtain of hair that fell over her face.

'Now tell me,' James continued, sitting back in his seat. 'You remembered my name, do you remember all of the others, as well?'

By way of response, Rain fished around in a pocket lining the interior of her robes. She produced a small photograph which she handed to him. She held it reverently, as if scared of losing it.

It was a picture of the two of them, taken in their first year, just after Rain's team had won a F.A.R.T club event. She was holding the trophy aloft, high above her head, and laughing as a first-year James tried to reach up and grab it. Eventually, photo-James gave up, and the pair of them fell into fits of giggles on the floor of the Great Hall.

'We must have been great friends, yes?' There was loss in her words. And confusion, at her inability to know just what it was she had lost. It was up to James alone to bear that burden, he knew.

He offered her his bravest smile. 'We are great friends, Rain.'

She smiled softly at that, again. They passed much of the time by Rain showing James all of the photos she'd been given – one for each of their group, and one of them all together. This one had been taken in third year, and Holly – whom Rain had an individual photo of – wasn't in it.

'Some friends, they aren't forever,' James tried awkwardly to explain. 'They… drift apart. Or break apart.'

Holly's words at the end of last year still rang in James' ears. He refused to find it within himself to forgive her for trying to stop them bringing Rain back.

But Rain suddenly looked worried, and clutched the rest of her photos tightly to her chest. 'N-not forever? Will… will you-?'

'No, no, no!' James hastened to add, waving his hands desperately. 'Me, and all the others, we'll always be there. Friends are friends because they help one another. Friendship is about giving, about sharing, about sacrifice. You may not remember it, but these are things we've been doing for years.'

'Friendship is about… sacrifice?' Rain asked, genuine curiosity in her tone. James was hardly surprised Renshaw hadn't seen it necessary to fill her in on any of this.

'In part, yes. It's about doing things for other people, even though they may not be easy. You do it because you are friends.'

'Huh. Sacrifice…' Rain tested the word, as if getting the feel for it in her mouth. She smiled, apparently pleased with the notion, and tucked away all of the photos again, even Holly's.

They spoke only scarcely for the remainder of their journey, of school and lessons and lighter things. Rain had a lot of catching up to do, especially considering this was their OWL year. James told her of the dread that filled him at the thought of all the study they'd have to do, and speculated on just how insane the schedule that Cassie was bound to make for them all would be.

When they arrived in the courtyard adjacent the Great Hall, the door of the carriage swung open, and James hopped out, offering his hand to Rain to help her down. She took it graciously, and stepped down delicately to the pavement. Her eyes darted around furtively, taking in the sea of people arriving. She leaned heavily on him for support. Once again, James was reminded of her fragility. Where before she had been a veritable force of nature, this new Rain was a delicate spun glass flower. He was terrified of what might happen should she break.

From the corner of his eye, James caught a familiar face. Odette was watching on, staring intently as he stepped out of the carriage, alone, his hand in Rains. The moment he saw her, she spun away, her back straight and rigid, her chin thrust forward and deliberately not looking back in his direction. He sighed, heavily. That was a conversation he'd been dreading all summer.

Before the pair moved off, Rain turned to James with a very serious look on her face.

'Thank you, James, for your sacrifice,' she said gravely. James guessed at what she was meaning.

'We'd do it all again in a heartbeat,' he assured her. 'Because we know you'd do the same for us.'

'Someday, I hope I have the chance to return the favour.'

James gave her a quick smile. 'I'd rather we never need make that decision at all.'

They hurried in to the Great Hall together, with Rain still clutching fiercely to James' hand. He did his best to keep them as clear of the press as possible, and chose a spot as far from the staff table as he could, right the way back near the doors where there was a perpetual draft, and he'd be farthest from the Sorting. It was usually the least-heavily populated of all the Gryffindor table. It wasn't long before the rest of their friends arrived, and their eyes lit up at seeing Rain. They all huddled around and bombarded her with hugs and greetings and remarks on her hair or how healthy she looked. It was soon apparent that even this amount of attention was distressing her, and Cassie formed a guard of honour, making sure nobody came too close or tried to drag her in to too serious a conversation while they chatted awaiting the arrival of the first-years.

The wait was not a long one. Up at the staff table, a sudden silence was their first warning. Headmistress Renshaw set aside her goblet and focused her attention on the great oak doors. Professor Longbottom assumed a silent, regal regard at her right hand. And at his right, Professor Meadows sat with a girlish impatience, her lacquered fingernails tapping a rhythm on the tabletop.

Suddenly, a thousand pairs of eyes converged on James' position, as the doors behind him began to swing open. They all turned to look, and watch as the procession of first-years marched past them one-by-one, looking tiny and timid. Out in the Entrance Hall, James could hear Hagrid's booming voice still ushering them in from outside, gently cajoling them onwards and into the warmth.

The line snaked all the way to the back of the room and along the wall near where James sat, such were the numbers of students. Their nervous fidgeting matched the restlessness of the older students as the first pangs of hunger began to set in. Smells fit to make James' mouth water were wafting in through the now-open doors on a draft up from the Kitchens, and he suddenly found himself wishing he'd indulged in a few extra pumpkin pasties on the train.

'Welcome first-years! Welcome to all of you!' The Headmistress stood and threw her arms wide. Her long, loose sleeves draped like midnight wings, as she became framed by the burning candlelight from James' view like a giant, midnight spectre. 'The year has not even begun and I already find myself exhilarated by the eagerness in the faces gazing up at me. Though, whether that eagerness is for our schooling or for your impending dinner, I'm not quite sure.'

There was a round of chuckles, and Fred's stomach joined in the merriment with a hearty growl of its own.

'With that in mind, I shall not keep you long. I wish only to offer greetings, and a piece of advice, which I feel may speak more to some than to others. Hogwarts is a place of infinite possibilities. Of endless opportunity where your only limitation is the imagination with which you pursue them. You can do, and be, anything here. Anything you once were, you may leave behind and forge anew, like a glorious Phoenix. Your life is yours, now. From this moment onwards. Seize that.'

There was a somewhat confused applause at the impassioned speech, but James had eyes only for Rain, who was staring avidly up at Renshaw, a tiny smile on her lips and a very thoughtful look in her eyes. Speaking to some more than others, indeed.

'Now, without further ado, let me introduce to you the longest-serving member of Hogwarts staff, and someone whom I have always considered a head of the game: the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!'

Another round of scattered applause, peppered this time with some polite laughter. Renshaw gestured with one hand, and a stool rose up from behind the staff table, rickety and rattly and worm-eaten as it was. It bore upon it a garment to match: the Sorting Hat. The group of milling first-years eyed it uncomfortably, clearly uncertain. The faded folds of brown cloth shuddered and stirred, and the Hat – had it eyes – made to look around the room.

And then the crease in the fabric where James knew its mouth to be parted slightly, and the Hat let out an inhuman scream such as nothing James had ever heard. It was nothing that could have been torn from a human throat. It was a rending, tearing scream of unmaking that was somehow still shrill and eerie all at once. James' hackles instantly rose. A few students around them clapped hands to ears. One of the first-year girls began crying.

But Rain, she had her hands wrapped around her head, her eyes scrunched as tight as they would go and was rocking back and forth on her seat. James couldn't hear her over the screams of the Hat, but he could see her lips mouthing, 'No, no, no,' over and over.

Up at the Staff table Renshaw hurried over to where the Hat stood. It was quivering ever faster, the screams rising to a wailing crescendo. As she approached, and reached out a tentative hand to touch it, the Hat fell away, crumbling before her touch like so much dust, leaving only a pile of gritty ash behind that tumbled over the edge of the stool and came to rest upon the flagstone floor. The screaming ended abruptly. A thick, oppressive silence fell upon the Hall. Cassie was hugging Rain fiercely, who was still shaking, as if fearing she would be next.

'Students will return to their dormitories immediately, led by their Prefects,' Renshaw said. A round of despairing groans answered her. 'Food will be supplied in each house common room, once you are all there safely. First-years, you will remain behind and the Professors and I will… we'll work out what to do with you.'

The nervous titters of the first-year students were drowned out by the scraping of dozens of bench seats on the flagstones as a thousand-odd students stood up together, cast a baleful glance back at the stool upon which the Hat had stood, and made their way from the Great Hall. Rain took a little coaxing from Cassie to come along. James worried at her strong reaction, but chalked it up to her newfound fragility rather than anything else that might have been more sinister. He told himself not to invent any conspiracies unnecessarily, especially when they didn't even know what had happened to the Hat.

And so gossip was rife and speculation ruled that night in each of the House common rooms. And James Potter was a long time in going to bed, and when he finally did, he found his dreams troubled by screams and ash, and the feeling that, just this once, he'd like to have a normal year at Hogwarts for a change…