The week leading up to James' rendezvous with Ava Adams passed painfully slowly. There were, in James' opinion, multiple reasons for this. Not least among them the fact that both Transfiguration and Charms heaped a surprise test upon the fifth years, in which everybody who failed (James failed both) had to stay back for extra remedial lessons after hours. Then there was the full day he had to spend laid out in bed with a splitting headache. Probably from all of the extra study. But principal among the reasons, he decided, was that Holly Brooks was, once again, very purposefully ignoring him.
He'd made a point of trying to track her down ever since Headmistress Renshaw had interrogated him about Rain. Something had begun, in that meeting between them. Some inner resolve within James had been firmed up, and he could feel himself gathering momentum towards a decision. But he didn't want to do so alone.
Nor could he burden his friends – his other friends – with what he was to do. Not just yet. Not until he could be sure. He saw how fiercely protective Cassie was with Rain. How upset she'd been without her last year, and how hard she had taken it when they stumbled across her doing… something to that classroom. No, James had decided with a wry grimace, he needed to look elsewhere. To other relationships. He'd shrugged to himself. And Holly had made it pretty clear that she already considered their bond expendable…
But she was making it damned hard to track her down. It had finally dawned on James that she was actively avoiding him after the third day, when he thought he'd pinned her down to a corner of the library he swore he'd just seen her enter, only to find it suspiciously devoid of life, but with an open book still resting atop one of the reading tables. The title read: Catch me if you can: Fifty of the Moste Elusive Magical Creatures.
And so, the chase continued. He tracked her after class, he called to her in the corridors. He even hung around the Slytherin table at mealtimes until the death stares he received from Odette and her friend group made him slink sheepishly away once more. But no matter how hard he tried, that shimmering curtain of black hair always just managed to be disappearing around a corner up ahead.
Until one night, James had her. He'd spied her by chance down a side corridor after heading back from a particularly gruelling study session Cassie had enforced upon them. Forgoing the warm embrace of his waiting bed, James slipped away from his friends and tailed Holly through a seldom-used corridor that passed by the back entrance to the Library. He kept his distance, hoping to sneak up and surprise her. She was obviously not in a hurry, and for once seemed oblivious to his progress. They descended a narrow, winding staircase, then along a dingy walkway, until a blind corner was to give James his chance-
'Ha! Got you!'
'Bloody hell! Argh-! Professor Meadows? You scared the life out of me!'
Zoe Meadows was barely able to control her glee. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and she was biting down hard on her lower lip to stop from laughing outright.
'Oh, James, would that I had a Pensieve so I could bottle the look on your face forever.'
'Not funny, professor. You scared me half to death. It's darker than a dungeon in here.'
Over the professor's shoulder, there was no sign of Holly Brooks.
'Come now, James, stop pouting. It's unbecoming.'
James sighed as Professor Meadows threw an arm across his shoulders and made to lead him back up the way he'd just come.
'Actually, Professor, I was just tracking down Holly. Did you see her come through here?'
'Of course I did. This was all her idea, after all.'
'She- what?'
'I told her I wanted to get in touch with you, but that it should be out of the way of prying eyes. She was only too happy to help. The scaring you witless part was her little brain child.'
'Ugh. Can you tell her I've been trying to get a hold of her?'
'No.'
James stopped in his tracks, causing Professor Meadows – still with her arm around him – to bump into his shoulder and tread on his heel with her good leg. James thought she did it on purpose.
'Why- why not?'
'Because, James – and I cannot possibly stress this enough – you are a bit of an arse.'
'You're a professor! You're not allowed to say that. And besides, that hardly seems a fair summary of the situation.'
'Holly's words, not mine, Potter. And I'm inclined to agree. Now, don't get me wrong, I adore you–'
'Would that I had the Pensive, so I could bottle that.'
'You tit. Just give her some space, James. She'll talk when she's ready.'
They'd started walking again, the professor still leaning on James for support. They headed back up the dark corridor, but didn't turn off at the well-lit staircase, instead heading onwards, where no more than one torch in four sputtered weakly in its bracket.
'I don't have time for space, Professor. It's about- well, it's about what we saw in that room- ow!'
'You are a tit. Shut your mouth, Potter. I told you the walls have ears around here. Get in there. No- that's a broom closet, that one.'
James pushed open the door to revel a similarly low-lit room smaller than a classroom but larger than a closet. A tiny, cramped desk was pushed up against one wall, and a single, wobbly chair sat facing it. Professor Longbottom was leaning casually up against the desk, drinking from a glass containing some sort of dark, honey-coloured liquor.
James groaned.
He could feel the migraine coming back already.
'I've just gotten over a headache. The last thing I need is the two of you rooting around in my noggin for an evening. I swear, you enjoy this way too much.'
'We're just trying to help you, James,' Professor Longbottom placated, draining his glass and gesturing to the empty chair. 'Sit.'
James slumped into the chair, giving both Professors a sullen look of resignation.
'Tonight, James, I want to focus on your ability to detect somebody trying Legilimency on you. It won't always be obvious, and true masters can cast the spell non-verbally. Sometimes even without direct eye-contact. I want you to try and detect when I use Legilimency on you, if you could.'
James sighed, but sat up straighter in his chair, looking Professor Longbottom in the eyes.
'Alright, I'm ready,' he finally said.
Professor Meadows barked a laugh. 'Well, you've failed the first test. I've been inside your head since we walked through that door, and you didn't notice a thing.'
'You what?! Get out!'
'Gladly. It's like being inside an unwashed sock in there.'
'You're such a–'
'Say it, Potter. I dare you.'
'Now, now, children' Professor Longbottom interrupted, barely hiding his smile. 'Play nice. James, again. This time, I'll try.'
James gripped the edges of his chair and stared flatly at the Professor. This time, he was going to be ready. This time, he knew it was coming. This time–
'Why so desperate to see Miss Brooks, James? I thought you two were… out of touch.'
'Argh!'
James rocked back on his chair, flopping his head back to gaze up at the dusty ceiling above. Amorphous shadows lurked in the corners of the room, making his head spin.
'Legilimency isn't all about smash-and-grab, James,' Professor Longbottom said kindly. 'Sometimes, it's possible to enter a subject's mind completely undetected – if the subject doesn't know what to look for, that is.
'Were I a true expert, I could enter your mind unnoticed and plant a thought there. And you would be none the wiser. That thought might be to clean your dormitory every once in a while. It might be to study extra hard for your Herbology O.W.L that you're currently on track to fail spectacularly, or… it could be a thought to murder Professor Meadows.'
'Cor, as if he could!'
'Regardless of the specifics,' Professor Longbottom continued, holding up a placating hand, 'This form of mind control – because that's what it is, really – is much more subtle, much more difficult but much, much more untraceable than the use of the Imperius, or other magical compulsions. It is a true master's tool. And, if used correctly, not even the finest combing through a Pensieve will uncover the culprit. The victim – in this case you, James – will be entirely convinced that you had the thought of your own volition.'
'That's… that's kind of terrifying.'
'It is incredibly terrifying, James. Imagine just what you could do, if you were able to influence the thinking of every single person you met in such a way. The followers you could recruit, the empire you could build… Terrifying, indeed. Obviously, neither Zoe nor myself can come close to such a feat, but we are, at least, able to train you to detect a presence in your head, so you may have a chance to slam down some defences.'
James swallowed with a suddenly-dry throat, and nodded.
Professor Meadows scooted into James' vision and flashed him a wicked smile. 'My turn,' she grinned.
'I hope you choke on the dirty sock.'
You could never even get close to murdering me.
It took James a few moments to realise that Zoe had spoken the words in his mind. He gave a yell, and scooted back in his chair. Zoe's musical laughter rang out through the room. James felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. He'd lost again.
'Don't get discouraged, James,' Professor Longbottom assured him jovially. 'Practice makes perfect, after all.'
Professors Longbottom and Meadows alternated at sneaking into his mind. Though it mattered not which one was in there, James had no success whatsoever at detecting them. Zoe would laugh aloud, and whisper rude things directly into his mind. Professor Longbottom would give a wry smile and a shrug, and James would know he'd been beaten once again.
After an entire hour which felt more like a whole day, James begged off. A pressure was building behind his eyes that was almost a certain precursor to another headache. He mentioned as much to the professors.
'Toughen up, Princess,' Professor Meadows scoffed.
'Eat this,' Professor Longbottom added more helpfully, holding out a slab of chocolate. 'As much as I'm sure you disagree, a headache is actually a good sign. It means you are building a sensitivity to Legilimency. Most people could go on without feeling a thing, completely oblivious to the fact that they'd just been subjected to Legilimency.'
'Great. That makes me feel so much better.'
'When do you ever stop whining?' Zoe Meadows asked, screwing up her nose. 'It's no wonder Mansfield ditched you.'
'Hey, that's private!'
'You two are as childish as each other,' Professor Longbottom gave a long-suffering sigh. 'Focus, now James. We'll have one more stint. We really want you to be able to–'
'Be able to what?'
The door to their room banged open, crashing against the wall and sending a shower of dust down from the rafters to build up in little piles on James' shoulders. Headmistress Galatea Renshaw strode purposefully into the room, stopping to stand face to face with the professors. James had to crane his neck to see her. She didn't look overly happy.
The small room, which had felt full with the three of them in it, now seemed positively cramped. Zoe Meadows was biting her lower lip nervously, but Professor Longbottom – a full glass in hand once more – answered calmly.
'To pass his O. , Headmistress.'
Renshaw's gaze fixed on to Professor Longbottom, seeming to bore into him with a physical force. James shrank down in his chair, and even Zoe Meadows cowered slightly, but Professor Longbottom remained implacable, taking a long, slow sip from the glass.
'Curious,' Renshaw finally drawled, looking pointedly at Zoe. 'I would have thought that Defence would be the one O.W.L that James could be assured of achieving.'
'It's no secret how well his father performed,' Professor Longbottom replied coolly. 'James, too, wants to get an Outstanding grade.'
'And the professor of Herbology is the best one to teach him?'
There was a soft clink as Professor Longbottom set the glass aside and he, too, folded his arms. 'You and I both know, Galatea, that I've seen my share of scrapes in the past. And I'm likely to again, no doubt, before I'm grey and old.'
Renshaw peeled her lips back in what could only be described as a sneer. The temperature in the room suddenly seemed to drop a few degrees. 'Careful, now, Professor. Were we in a dark room off of an abandoned corridor, statements like that might sound threatening.'
Zoe Meadows looked as if she was about to swallow her tongue.
'Were we in such a room, headmistress, I would consider unannounced guests as intruders.'
This time, Zoe actually gave a strangled little yelp. James had to wipe his clammy palms on the outsides of his trousers, so acutely was he feeling the mounting tension.
But Headmistress Renshaw broke the ice by throwing her head back and giving a low, husky laugh. She placed a hand on the back of James' chair, and he could feel her fingers alighting on his collar bone.
'Very well, Professors. This intruder shall intrude no longer. But I must relieve you of young master Potter. I wish a brief word. And it is, after all, just past curfew. Though I'm sure you were but moments away from sending him off to bed yourselves.'
'Of course, Headmistress. You are most welcome to him. Until next time, James.'
'Indeed,' Renshaw answered in James' stead. "Menacing" was the only way James could think to describe her tone. 'Next time.'
She bundled him from the room with a firm, steering grip on his shoulder. They strode in silence through the dark, deserted corridor, up a flight of poorly-lit stairs and onto a landing bathed in silvery moonlight by a high, arched window. Only then did the Headmistress pause. She spun James around to face her, and took one of his hands in both of her own. In the moonlit glow, the dark makeup shrouding her eyes made them appear as twinkling stars in caverns of shadow.
'I trust you recall our conversation, James?'
'Of course, Headmistress.'
'And you have had time to think it over?'
'I'm working on it. I need to see– I just need to be sure.'
He felt the headmistress twist his hand gently, placing his palm upright and splaying his fingers. She worked her thumbs in firm circles across his palm. The movements sent a warm sensation flooding all the way up his arm.
'I'm sure I don't need to ask you whether or not Professor Longbottom was telling the truth in there, do I?'
James thought the saw the window behind the headmistress sway for a moment. He put it down to the aftereffects of his Occlumency lessons.
'Of course not– I mean yes. He was. Telling the truth, that is.'
The Headmistress' features loomed large in James' vision. She continued working his palm with her fingers for a few moments later before finally stepping back, letting it fall to his side. James hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath, but he gave a long, shaky exhale.
'Very good, James. Thank you. One more thing, before you go. I trust also, that you recall the story I shared with you, the last time we spoke?'
James just nodded mutely. He could feel his damned headache coming back again, with a vengeance.
'Very good, my boy. You will recall that I was, at first, hesitant to act?'
James nodded once more.
'I elaborated very little beyond that, but I will grace you with some further details now, if you do not mind. The realisation that I had come to was this: that nothing is more contemptible than neutrality. And so, when I did finally act, James, it was with surety, clarity, and finality. I would tell you to ask those whom I acted against to attest to this, but I think you'd find they have a hard time speaking these days. To anyone.'
James swallowed. He felt a cool bead of sweat trickle down the nape of his neck and had to fight the urge to visibly shudder. Headmistress Renshaw laid a hand upon his shoulder once more. 'Good night, James,' she said, and turned back down the stairwell, leaving James alone and cold and – he wasn't ashamed to admit it – a little scared.
'Watcha thinkin' about?'
'Gah! Merlin, Holly, what the hell?'
He had been alone not three seconds ago. And yet somehow, Holly Brooks had melted out of the very shadows themselves and goosed him. It took a good minute before his heart stopped hammering up around his larynx.
He turned around to face her, and saw any hint of playfulness evaporate from her smile. Replaced instead by cruel satisfaction. James grimaced, but decided not to push the issue. He turned instead to business.
'I've been trying to get a hold of you all week, and now you decide to meet me?'
'I didn't want to meet you all week. But now, you're having secret meetings with Zoe, and hushed conversations with Renshaw. Did you know she cast a Muffliato spell around the two of you when you spoke just then? I couldn't hear a thing.'
'Good,' James said, with some satisfaction. 'Better that you didn't.'
'Don't pout James, it unmans you.'
'I want to talk about Rain,' he said firmly.
'Bloody hell, yell it across the castle, why don't you?'
James grabbed Holly by the upper arm and frogmarched her over to a shadowy recess beneath an unlit torch bracket. Likely the very place she'd been lurking to try and eavesdrop on his conversation with Renshaw.
'Listen, Holly. I thought about what you said–'
'There's a first time for everything.'
'But I need to be sure. I'd like to try and catch Rain in the act. If- if that's even what is happening here.'
'Oh, right. Don't take my word for it at all, then.'
'I believe you Holly. That's why I'm here. But I need to be absolutely certain. She's my friend. I need to know what's happening. To see that she gets help, if she needs it, and that I'm not just dragging her into this again needlessly. She's been through enough already. I'd do this for any of my friends, Holly. I'd do the same for you.'
'Careful now, James. I need you to stop where you're nudging this conversation right now. I need you to take those thoughts and burn them in your mind. Burn them until they're ash, and then scatter them to the winds. That bridge has long since rusted away. I only told you this to save everybody else from your ego. From your naiveté and your self-assurance that you had everything figured out. The world according to James Potter.
'Don't talk to me of friendship, James Potter. Because I'd sell you out in a heartbeat.'
James chose to believe that Holly was lying. About the last part, at least. He had to, or else there was no hope for them at all. Instead, he breathed out slowly and calmly, and ran a hand through his hair to steady his nerve.
'Very well, then. Friends or not, I still need your help. Nobody can sneak through the castle like you can, Holly. Nobody knows the ins and outs, the shadows and the stalking. And, if things get messy, nobody else has ever… nobody has ever beaten Rain in a duel.'
'So that is what you think it will come to?'
'I hope with all my heart that it will not.'
Holly was silent for a very long time. She looked off over James' shoulder, back out across the landing they had been occupying. The puddle of moonlight bathed the rough-hewn flagstones in its pale glow. The layer of dust clearly showed the disturbance their presence had made. Footsteps led right to their little alcove. James suddenly hoped nobody would stumble across them.
'I will do it,' Holly finally said. Her pale grey eyes sparkled, as if they, too had captured some of the moon's soft glow.
'Thank you so much, Holly–'
She held up a hand to cut him off.
'I'm not doing it for you, James. Don't overstep yourself. Don't forget that. I'm doing it so that, when the time comes, I can make sure you choose the right decision. I'm doing it so that I can force your hand. Because, as you've clearly shown by seeking me out, for some unknown reason you still trust me. But I… I don't trust you at all.'
'So be it,' James said, hearing his voice empty of inflection. 'We'll do this together. And there will be no emotion whatsoever.'
Holly looked at him flatly. 'See that there isn't.'
And with that, she was gone, striding out of the alcove and off down the stairs, following after where Renshaw had walked. James stayed for a long time, staring off into the greyness after her. She'd told him he needed to make a choice. The right choice. But the more tangled this got, the more sides that became involved, the less certain James was that he could see right from wrong at all.
