A little more lockdown love to keep you all entertained.


The crowd jostled. Faceless bodies shuffled this way and that. There were grunts and curses and apologies, the awkward sideways-shuffle, and a great deal of treading on toes. There was the sound of the whistle of the Hogwarts Express, and the misting of a thousand breaths mingling in the cool air with the steam that belched from the scarlet steam engine and hovering just above head height, making the vaulted platform seemed even more cramped and packed in than it already was.

James had been separated from the rest of his family along with Harry almost as soon as they'd passed through the barrier. A runaway trolley being chased by a portly witch in a purple robe had nearly flattened Lily and Al, and by the time everybody was on their feet once more, there were no fewer than a dozen families between James' position and where he'd last seen his siblings. His father had cursed wizardkind's prolific peacetime breeding habits and forged onwards alone, with James scurrying along in his wake.

They'd eventually managed to step aside and carve out a little pool of calm among the roiling torrents around them adjacent a wall near the rear of the train. And as eleven o'clock approached, last-minute farewell cries joined in to add a layer of tumultuous noise to the madness as well. James didn't see his father so much as move, but he could tell that he'd cast a Muffliato charm around the pair of them to afford some privacy. Not least because a few of the witches and wizards stood nearby started frowning and sticking their fingers in their ears as if that would help clear out the muted buzz the spell had created.

'Stay safe this term, James,' Harry cautioned, laying a hand on James' shoulder. Harry's eyes were tight, his face drawn. There was a hint of grey showing through his beard in the right light, and streaks of it decorated his temples as he ran a hand through his hair in a gesture James himself had perfected over the years. Harry Potter was not as young as he used to be.

'Course, Dad,' James nodded. 'Always.'

'Good thing you're not under Veritaserum, because that's the biggest lie I've heard all week.'

James gave a laugh. 'You know how it is, Dad. I have to look after my friends. I have to keep them safe, too.'

Harry's gaze took on a distant, misty look. He removed his glasses for a moment and cleaned a non-existent speck with his jumper. 'I do, James. Trust me, I do.'

'But I'll try, at least.'

'That's all I ask. I don't like this business of the castle lockdowns you mentioned. You're sure these areas are being damaged or affected in some way?'

'I saw one with my own eyes, Dad. It seemed to be melting.'

'Hmm. Well, then, if what you are describing is some kind of magical virus or cancer that is spreading, it seems to have already breached Hogwarts' defences. The Headmistress will have to act quickly if she is to cut it out.'

'And if it is somehow linked to Rain?'

Harry paused, leaning forwards to look sharply into James' eyes. Hard, weathered green met earnest and worried brown, and neither flinched. 'Take a great care with whom you share that theory, James. For everyone that you tell will react to it differently. Many will try and take advantage of the poor girl, for their gain, or perhaps through some twisted plan to use her to draw out the source of this Unmaking. We still aren't sure if that is what the Ministry was trying to do last year when we rescued her. Every question I ask is met with blank looks and shrugs.'

'And how is it?' James asked, eager to move the subject on. 'Working for the Ministry again?'

Harry gave a bitter smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'Like trying to fall asleep in a nest of vipers. The Minister still doesn't trust Ron nor I, but when the Steelhearts defected and stayed on with that mob of crazies who were holed up in the Ministry, he was suddenly left without an Auror department. At a time where he feels that physical threat might be coming from this mysterious rival of his who doesn't show his face in public.'

'Then why do it?' James asked. Over his shoulder the whistle sounded once more. The second warning prior to departure. Five minutes to go. The crowd was reaching a fever pitch.

The sigh Harry gave spoke volumes. As if he'd asked himself the very same question a dozen times before.

'We don't need the money, but that pre-Hogwarts day-care your mother and Aunt Hermione are running could use some resources. Get the kids out from under our feet at home. So Ron and I charge an exorbitant fee and send it all to the day-care. They've a new building not far from home. Almost a hundred kids now. And it's sanctioned by the Ministry. Half of magical London's kids attending, and growing by the day. Hermione is loving it. So's Ginny, funny enough. So Ron and I will muddle on for a bit longer yet, training the next generation of Aurors from the dregs that are left. The rejects that didn't get selected for the Steelheart induction program. Merlin, but what I wouldn't give for a handful of Zoe Meadows' right now.'

'Don't let Mum hear you say that,' James smirked. 'She'd ask where you were hoping to take grab that handful.'

Harry barked a laugh. This time his eyes actually lit up, and it transformed a weathered, worn-down face into something of rugged beauty.

'On with you, then,' he laughed, cuffing James around the ear playfully. 'Stay out of trouble, and try to pass a few OWLs, would you?'

'No promises,' James grinned, shaking his father's hand. 'On both counts.'

And with that, he was off. He felt the Muffliato spell collapse, and he waved his father one final farewell before marching off towards the train about to depart, making liberal use of elbows and shoulders to ensure a clear path.

The relative calm that reigned inside the train was a blessing. Most of the students had found their way to compartments and had seated themselves. There was the usual banter bandied up and down within each carriage, as friends called to friends, and greeted those they hadn't seen all holidays. A few notes fluttered by overhead, shaped as birds or little paper aeroplanes, trading messages between more distant companions. As the train lurched into motion, James raised a hand to steady himself and picked his way along the aisle, through the carriages until he came to one occupied by familiar faces.

He greeted his friends with something like relief, and pulled the door shut tight, blocking out the moise, and revelling in the relative silence of their small compartment. They all exchanged pleasantries and tales of just what they'd been up to on their holidays – Fred to France where he'd given Fleur and Bill's family no end of grief, Tristan had spent the winter up on his farm, tending to a veritable menagerie of baby animals that had all decided to be born just on the brink of one of the coldest wintry seasons he could recall. Cassie and Clip offered the big announcement that they were now together, to which everyone just rolled their eyes and chorused, "About time!" Cat had been undertaking more bizarre jobs throughout magical Britain, including, most recently, bricklaying for platform ten-and-one-fifth, a new platform to open up next to nine-and-three-quarters to cope with the extra demand of increased students that had been seen in recent years. This would explain why she was splattered head-to-toe in a grainy grey mortar, which was beginning to dry rather stiffly on her clothes, leaving her with one arm stuck bent across her chest.

They talked and laughed and generally whiled away the hours as if they shared not a single care in the world. As a drizzling, grey rain set in somewhere around the centre of the country, James and Cassie sat staring out the window together, and talk turned to Rain, and how she might have spent the holiday period.

'Did you hear from her?' James asked, watching idly as his breath crept across the window as a ghostly mist.

Cassie shook her head. A note of worry had crept into her eyes the moment the subject was broached. She was fidgeting in her lap, toying with the hem of her blouse. Clip had tried to take her hand three times already, and she'd slapped him away impatiently in every instance.

'It must have been frightfully dreary,' Cassie whispered. 'Locked in the castle like that all winter. And she doesn't do well when she's alone. Oh, I knew I should have pushed to bring her home. But Headmistress Renshaw simply wouldn't allow it.'

'Is that so?' James asked, curiosity piqued. 'Can she do that?'

'She's the headmistress. I assume she can do whatever she pleases. But she said, as Rain has no guardians, she falls under care of the school, and she cannot allow her off grounds.'

'Hmm,' James eloquently stated. He wondered if perhaps being alone wasn't the least of Rain's problems over the holidays, if Renshaw's suspicions were anything like his own. The desire to see her – and see her safe – redoubled, and he checked his watch, as if that would help them arrive any quicker.

'She's just seemed so… troubled, lately,' Cassie continued, unprompted. 'So distant. She was doing so well, learning so many things. She was almost… you know… normal. Or, at least, normal for her. But the last few weeks before we left, she was become different… Distant. Colder. Like… almost like before. And her sleep was worse. Every night, she'd wake up screaming. Or even worse, she wouldn't wake, and would scream and scream. She would try and tear her necklace off – that locket she always wears – it was as if it burned her. So I'd unlatch it and set it beside her bed. She'd calm down then, but some nights after that she'd disappear again. Sleepwalking is a sign of a troubled mind, James, magical or muggle. We need to do something for her.'

Now there's something we can agree on.

The only problem was, James didn't know just what he needed to do, yet. He needed to know how deep Rain was in all of this. And to do that, he needed to see for himself. For his own sanity.

'I will look after her, Cassie,' he heard himself saying. 'Don't you worry. I'll get her the help that she needs. To… to end this.'

Cassie looked up and gave James a watery smile. 'You promise?'

And before he could stop himself, James had uttered the binding words. 'I promise.'

The rain had not abated by the time the pulled in at Hogsmeade Station. The clouds squatted low and dull in the sky, weeping a soft, drizzly rain that dampened everything and, before one knew it, saturated to the bone. It clung to hair and clothes and eyelashes, and made the muddy path up to the Thestral-drawn carriages treacherous underfoot. The only one who seemed to be enjoying themselves was Cat, as the moisture loosened the mortar that had dried her almost to statue-stillness throughout the duration of their train journey. Much to the irritation of all of them, she jumped in every puddle she could find between the station and the carriage.

They were all looking forward to the fare that awaited them within the Great Hall. Hot food was almost entirely consuming James' thoughts as he hurriedly made his way up the steps, sheltering as best he could from the persistent rain.

He jostled his way in through the door, joined in the collective sigh of relief as dryness enveloped them, promptly saw a flicker of ash-blonde hair up ahead of him, and peeled off from the group as if shot from a cannon, losing himself hurriedly in a cluster of disproportionately-tall Ravenclaw students who were all discussing whether a Charm could still be called a Charm if the intent of the spell was to specifically cause damaging effects. James was bored already.

He veered away from the lanky weirdos, content that he had avoided a run-in with Odette, but waited a moment on the first step of the Grand Staircase, just to be sure. He scanned the crowd with a squint. The last thing he needed right now was to–

'Hello James!'

'Argh! Bloody Merlin's bloody jocks in a sandwich. Rain! Stop that!'

Rain had appeared at his elbow. From nowhere. There had been not a soul on the steps just a moment prior, of that he was certain. This was more than simply using Holly's ducts to sneak around the Castle, surely.

'Oh. Sorry, James. I was just… excited to see you.' She folded her hands at her waist, and scuffed the ground with one foot. Her sea-green eyes were wide and shimmering, and she was damn near about to trip over her bottom lip. James instantly felt like the meanest person in the world.

'I'm sorry Rain. You just startled me, that's all.'

'I've been practising–'

'Sneaking about. I know.' Only too well.

'I'm getting very good at it.'

He knew that much, as well.

'It came in handy when I was trying to keep away from Headmistress Renshaw over the holidays.'

'Is that so?' James asked, suddenly very interested.

'Yes, come. I don't feel like eating. I want to go for a walk.'

'But it's raining.'

'I know. Isn't that lovely?'

James gave one final, wistful glance back at the open doors to the Great Hall, the source of a great number of tantalising smells wafting out over the heads of the clamouring students all rushing as if the magical tables would be unable to provide for their ravenous hunger. He sighed. His stomach rumbled, but he followed Rain back against the flow of students in the direction of the castle grounds.

James was taken aback as Rain slipped her hand casually into his own, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. They'd barely gone three paces before James noticed at least a dozen people whispering behind hands and shooting them very pointed gazes.

'Why are they staring?' Rain asked innocently.

'Ah, well, boys and girls don't usually walk around holding hands…' James began, unsure how to finish.

'Oh, right. It's a special-friend thing isn't it? Like you were telling me about at the start of the year.'

'Err…'

'Like you and Odette?'

'Well, you see…'

'How is she? She seemed so lovely.'

'Ah, well you see Rain, we're not… not special-friends, anymore. Just, erm… just regular friends. I think. Or maybe not even that.'

Rain stopped suddenly, forcing James to do the same by virtue of still holding his hand. The crowds that parted around them now were not even remotely subtle in their gawking.

'That's sad,' Rain said earnestly. She had a distant look in her eyes, as if trying to figure out what it all meant. 'How did that happen?'

'Ahh…' James trailed off, lost for words. This was not the conversation that he'd envisaged having with Rain upon his return. 'I guess we figured out we weren't quite the kindred spirits we once thought we were. We wanted different things.'

'That's very vague.'

'Yes, I suppose it is.'

They walked for a moment in silence. Progress was slow, as they were heading against the flow of students all clamouring to get into the Great Hall for dinner. Outside, James could see slanting droplets of rain periodically illuminated into beads of golden fire by the flickering torches that flanked the entrance to the castle. They paused to wait for a gap in the students, and James looked idly down at their joined hands.

'I could never do this with you, before, did you know?'

Rain lifted up their hands, studying the interlocking fingers with wide eyes. Her nails, painted a deep blue, reflected whispers of flickering torchlight.

'Were we… special friends, before, then?' she suddenly asked.

'No, we were just the ordinary kind. I think. Though some days, I can't really be too sure just what we were.'

'We must have been some kind of friends, if you chose to come and rescue me.'

Her voice had gone very quiet now. As it did whenever she spoke of the ordeal at the Ministry. She pulled her hand away and hugged herself, suddenly looking so small and fragile. A scared fifteen-year-old girl. It was so easy for James to forget that, under it all, that's probably all she was.

'That we were, Rain. We were some kind of friends.'

'And what are we now?'

The question took James off-guard. 'Why, we're friends, Rain. Ordinary friends, sure, but that doesn't make it any less special.'

Rain bit her lower lip, and looked around the hall before speaking. 'I recall you once told me friendship is about doing things for one another. Even though they might not be easy. That it was about looking out for one another. Do you remember, James?'

James nodded slowly.

'And will you do that for me now, James? Do you promise to look out for me, even though it might not be easy? Even though there is sacrifice?'

'I– always, Rain. Of course.'

Rain turned away from him, staring out in to the gathering darkness, her expression a mystery. 'So much confuses me, now, James. I'm trying to create a lifetime's worth of memories in the space of a single year. But, I think… no, I know that as long as you're there beside me, that it will be all right in the end. Don't you agree?'

James didn't answer. He couldn't possibly answer. But that didn't faze Rain in the slightest. She only gave a small smile and took his hand once more, leading him out into the night and the rain, where they walked all the way around the castle grounds twice over. Occasionally, Rain would raise a hand or offer a gesture, and beautiful, shimmering shapes would form from the droplets diving through the air around them. Or she would seem to freeze the fall for a moment, and they would walk on through tiny, crystallised beads of starlight suspended, frozen in time for the space of a few breaths, a momentary reprieve before they became dashed against the cobblestones at their feet.

The moon had risen by the time they returned, and the entire school had filtered out of the Great Hall – the feast was over. And throughout the whole time spent walking in the rain together, neither one had uttered a single word. Who knew what went on behind the iron walls and twisted mazes of Rain's mind? But for James, he was concerned that he'd just made two promises in the space of a day that he would never be able to keep.

And that day was not yet over.

They parted, with James making his way towards the kitchens, in the hope of scrounging something to eat from the elves, while Rain headed up the Grand Staircase towards the Ravenclaw dormitory and bed. James thought he'd leave off starting up the nightly watch again, at least until he'd spoken to Holly.

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallways. The corridor that led to the basement level and the kitchens was always left well lit, though few would be using it at this hour – so recently satisfied by the start-of-term fare.

James estimated that he was about halfway to his destination when he realised that he wasn't alone. He felt his hackles stir, and a faint prickling between his shoulder blades, as if somebody were sizing him up with a knife from behind. He stopped in his tracks, turning slowly on the spot and drifting his right hand closer to where he stowed his wand in the waistband of his jeans.

'We missed you at the feast this evening, Mister Potter.'

Headmistress Renshaw was leaning up against the bare stone wall, not a dozen feet from James' own position. She looked as if she had been lounging there for hours, as if James had strolled right past her without noticing. He suddenly recalled something his father had once mentioned, about Albus Dumbledore being able to cast a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that it worked as well as an Invisibility Cloak. He shuddered. The Headmistress took it to be the chill.

'Yes, there is rather a nip in the air tonight, is there not? Curious, then, that you would choose to spend the evening strolling the castle grounds.'

James felt his heart thumping. His palms tingled. He was suddenly nervous, though he couldn't put his finger on why. He surreptitiously took a step away from the wall and folded his arms, trying to look casual.

'I fancied some fresh air. Spending the whole day cooped up in that train gives me cabin fever.'

The smile Renshaw turned on him slipped icy fingers around his throat.

'Don't lie to me, boy. I can see through you as clear as glass. The two of you were missing. What were you up to?'

James swallowed nervously. He had to force himself not to take a step backwards. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his palms suddenly felt slick. He knew there was no need to ask who Renshaw meant by "the two" of them.

'Our holidays. Nothing important.'

'If you're trying to hide something from me…'

A stirring of shadow, and Renshaw suddenly loomed over him. She grabbed him forcibly by the back of the neck and tilted his head to look at her. James felt a queasiness wash over him. And then a distinct feeling of otherness, of an intrusion of his self.

She's in my head!

Instinctively, James recoiled, putting in to play all of the lessons and Occlumency defences that Professors Longbottom and Meadows had tried to impart on him. And as suddenly as it had started, the sensation was gone. Leaving not even an echo behind, causing James to wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing.

'Jumpy this evening, aren't we?' Renshaw purred dangerously. She released James and took a step backwards. 'So twitchy and furtive… the longer you leave me without answers, James Potter, the more I start to believe that you are trying to hide something from me. And the more impatient I grow.'

'I told you, I need time–!'

'Time is not a luxury I possess!' Renshaw snapped, slapping the wall with a palm, and sending an echo like the cracking of a whip up and down the corridor. 'My castle is falling apart, Potter. And each day you dally consigns more of it to ruin. I will not sit by idly and watch this thing eat us from the inside out. If you'd been present at the feast tonight, you would have heard the announcement that a pair of Ministry Investigators are arriving next week to assess the damages. Esoterics Engineers, they call themselves. Crackpots, probably, but perhaps they'll uncover something useful. I'm told their report will be on my desk within three weeks of their assessment. Do you know what that means, Potter?'

James swallowed, cautiously shaking his head in the negative.

'It means that you have one month to answer me. To inform me of where you lie. To prove to me Rain's innocence in this, or to affirm her guilt. And if you don't get back to me in that time, then I'll see to it that I take the advice offered by these Engineers. And I'm almost certain that their solution will be of a nature that is much more… absolute.'

James could only nod mutely, not trusting himself to speak.

'I will have your word on it, Potter, for whatever that is worth.'

And for the third time that day, James heard himself speak the binding words, heard his voice, stilted and broken offer results he felt hopelessly inadequate to deliver.

'I promise.'