James was picking at his food at the Ravenclaw table, for the first time facing the window. He had been in the eluding forest before, but when he glanced at it on this stormy day something terribly odd happened.

A rush of coldness swept threw him. He had spent many a cold winter day in an alleyway, nearly loosing a finger to frost bite on several occasions. But this was different.

It was an odd coldness that burned threw him. His breath came out in an odd gasp/ pant combo.

"whats the matter?" Inquired Jack, looking up from his textbook.

"N-nothing." James stuttered, gripping the table for support. Jack was clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but questioned no further.

He looked up at the head table and into the eyes of the headmaster. Dumbledore was staring at him, his expression unreadable. James shook himself mentally and left the hall at an even pace. When the doors shut behind him, he took off, running into the library.

He stayed there for ten minutes, catching his breath and thinking, then heading into potions.

"Today, we will.." Snape droned at the front of the class. James sat in a stupor, deeply disturbed by the cold feeling.

His vision flashed. He looked down at his hand. The image of a rotting hand replacing his own flashed by his eyes once before returning to normal, then flashing rotton again. It happened very quickly, less then a second. When his vision cleared he looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood.

He stood up into the aisle, ignoring the "Mr. Evans?"'s that came from a concerned sounding Snape. He wiped his hands on his robes. The blood whipped off, but a second later it was coming back full force, dripping at a steady pace onto the floor. Snape began striding over to him.

He held his hands closer to his face, staring intently, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from. He switched his palms face up, only to find that it was worse on that side. He felt cold, long fingers wrapped around his wrists.

"Mr. Evans! What have you done to yourself?" Snape demanded, pale hands getting stained with a harsh blood as well. James just shook his head mutely, staring horrified at his hands. Snape grunted and dragged him from the classroom.

Snape began wiping the blood away furiously, only to see it start to come back a second later. He wiped over and over, having the same result.

"Wheres it coming from?" Snape asked outloud as he dragged James to the hospital wing.

"I-I just don't know!" Madam Promfry said, her hair falling all over the place, face flushed. "I've never seen anything like it!" She bandaged James's hands up.

To her horror, a few moments after being applied the bandages began turning red and sopping with the ink-like blood. She placed a charm on them to make it so James could function with his hands like he normally could, despite the bandages, and so that the bandaged would clean themselves automatically every three minutes.

She then gave him a blood replenishing potion that he was to drink from ever three hours during the day and four hours during the night, kept in a hip flask.

"I'll consult the head nurse and doctor at St. Mungos, this will do for now, Mr. Evans, Professor Snape. Goodday." She shoved them out of the hospital, looking rather flustered at the fact that she failed to do her duty.

Snape and James stumbled into the hall and watched the door being shut behind them. James had recovered from the shock of his bleeding hands at least half an hour ago, and searched for something witty to say to fill the odd silence.

"Well, that was interesting." James dead-panned. Snape glared at him.

"Understatement of the year, Evans." Snape shot back as the made their way back to the now empty potions class. James picked up his books and back in his soar hands and they stood in an uncomfortable silence until James took off.

He tucked into the library and pulled out a little notebook. He dubbed it "TDC', for The Dot Connection, and wrote the following;

-SIRIUS BLACK

-THE FORBIDDEN FOREST

-Rotten Hand

-Bleeding Hands

-THE COLD

He left the library, tucking the notebook and pen away. He was in the room before the great hall when a stench struck him. It was odd, sort of like metal, and blood. It triggered his memory.

FLASHBACK

Lucious Malfoy leaned against a pilled, aiming his wand at him, facial expression unreadable. Time slowed down as his mouth formed the words 'Avada Kedavra'.

END FLASHBACK.

Something possessed James. He went into some kind of trance. He floated towards the pillar. 'Since when did I float?', he thought, his mind a foggy mess. He felt himself sniff the air around the piller. He smelt fear and anger, and it strengthened him. He blinked and in the next second he had fallen to the floor with a soft thunk.

He wrote a small description of the events that took place. He shoved the floating and smelling aside and thought of the words. Avada Kedavra. Kakaroff had taught them about the curse, the killing curse. Dumbledore had lied. It wasn't an odd version of a rotting curse. A killing curse had hit him, and now he stood, clearly alive.

He stood there for a long time, the silence in the air suffocating.

END CHAPTER

It was Christmas. Oh, how he loathed Christmas. He had been wandering around the school, one of the only three students that had stayed behind, when someone shot a curse at him.

He turned in time to see black robes billowing around a corner. He cursed angrily, but in a second Dumbledore was rushing past him, chasing the robed figure in all his old and ricketyness. James shot after him.

A few corridors later, James had lost them and was going by the sounds of the two running threw the halls. James came to a fork in the road. He went by instinct and took a sharp left turn into a dimly lit corridor. What a sight that met him!

Dumbledore was hovering over their defense teacher, Prof. Malaji, with a dark expression on his face. James took a hesitant step toward the pair.

"Headmaster?" He asked uncertainly, then held back a yelp of surprise as Malaji turned into the blonde man that attacked him in the room outside the Great Hall.

"Luscious, how did you get out?" Inquired the Headmaster of the unconscious man. He did some binding spells. "Alert Minerva, would you James? Tell her there could be more of them. I'm afraid we're going to be spending Christmas Eve on the floor of the great hall."

James obliged. Hours later he found himself on the hard stone floor of the great hall. He didn't mind, of course. He had been more then used to cold floors. In fact, the sleeping bag and pillow that he was sleeping in was a luxtury compared to normal circumstances.

He fell asleep slowly, think of The Old Lady that had taken him in. He had borrowed an owl a day previous and sent it to New York to look for her, along with a nice letter.

FLASH BACK

He sat at his desk in the dorms. He took out a pen.

Old Lady

Another Christmas we shall not spend together. I'm barely getting by on the money I stole back in Germany. Yes, Germany.


That's where the crooked nosed man took me. I know, I haven't been in contact with you. For this, I am sorry.

But you must understand. There were no borrowable owls at that school. I've got one from the school to borrow, so I hope this letter finds you well.

I got the ax at my old school. Now I'm in London. Yes, London, or somewhere around there. Ok, ok. SOMEWHERE in the UK.

I think.

Sorry for the vagueness. I hope you've had some enjoyable years in my absence.

How are you? How's the library? What's new?

To reply, just right a letter and tie it to the owls leg. It'll find me. I would have gotten you a Christmas gift, but alas, I am broke.

Have a wonderful Christmas.

Love,

James.

END FLASHBACK/

James awoke shivering. It was freezing in the room. He looked up and saw he was the last one awake. The other two students were talking amongst eachother and teachers, who were making themselves tea and laughing happily. He stole a glance outside the window. It was snowing.

He got up and stretched. The blankets magically disappeared. With a swish of his wand he was clothed in jeans and a black tshirt. It bore the words;

Merry Fuckin Christmas

He sat at the table.

"Got your gifts, Mr. Evans?" The headmaster asked kindly. James snorted.

"Just about as many gifts as I get every year, sir." He retorted. Dumbledore was about to reply when the owl post arrived. A letter dropped in front of Dumbledore, who took it excitedly, reading while munching on toast. After a moment he let out an uncharacteristic whoop of joy, punching his fist in the air.

"Sir?" James asked, amused.

"Just a letter from an old friend." He replied mysteriously. James just shook his head, amused, at the antics.

"I see." James was in the middle of saying when a letter landed in front of him along with a small wrapped pakage.

He pulled open the letter.

James,

How nice to hear from you! it's been so long! The library is closing, my old friend. I'm without a job and now without a home, as I moved into the upstairs of the library.

I have to be gone by the end of January. I'm sorry to have brought you such bad new on such a nice holiday.

Well, I've sent you a gift. I'm packing up all of our favorite books from the library. I have no money. I don't know what I'm going to do now. Have a nice holiday, do keep in touch, and perhaps tell me about Germany?

The Old Lady --

PS: You stole! Young man!! I shall shake my finger at you.

James grinned sadly at the paper. A voice caught his attention. Dumbledore had his hand out for the letter. James surrendered it and went to his package. He tore the paper and gasped.

It was the Catcher In The Rye. He flipped threw it, and found the old lady had written notes and comments threw out it. He was reading a note at a random point in the book when Dumbledore made a noise to catch his attention.

"Mr. Evans, I have a proposal for you." Dumbledore looked rather smug, and this was never a good thing.

"Sir?" He asked uncertainly.

"Madam Pince it rather shorthanded in the library. What would you say to this old lady-"

"Her names Abagale Smith." James said,

"Miss. Smith, coming and working for the school library?" James's mouth fell.

"REALLY?"

"Absolutley. I'll write to her." Dumbledore said triumphantly.

"That's wonderful sir, thank you. Who was your letter from?" James inquired.

"Ah, a Mr. Remus Lupin, who is confirming that he will be teaching defense this year.."

"Wow. Is he any good?" James asked as Dumbledore scribbled a reply to Abby.

"Yes, wonderful." Dumbledore suddenly stopped writing and stared at his shirt. "What a colorful vocabulary you have, Mr. evans." He commented, amused.

"It's the best." Agreed James. What a merry fucking Christmas it was, he thought ildly while flipping threw Catcher in the Rye.