October's approach was almost dizzyingly fast this year, punctuated by rain and a nosedive in the temperatures after a warmer-than-usual September.
This was much to Albus's dismay, as his cold-weather things were still packed away in his trunk, and he'd had to rummage through it to retrieve them. Given that he'd already overslept, it hadn't been the best start to a Monday he'd ever had.
Today, on the other hand, was Tuesday. His longer robe was already hung up on a hook near his four-poster bed. As he patted it down, he realized it was dry from yesterday evening's rain, which was also a good thing.
The other good thing about Tuesday was that he didn't have to open it with Transfiguration and History of Magic. The Monday morning slate had been very nearly as bad as Sylvia had predicted. Even Potions, which they took after lunch, had spiked in difficulty and wasn't quite as enjoyable as Albus had found it the first two years. At least Ambrose was somewhat nice, though. The same could not be said for dry, droning Professor Binns or the perpetually curmudgeonly Professor Wenster. He'd lost his temper on poor Nina Edgerton just that past Friday, then docked five points from Gryffindor, to boot. To be fair, Nina had asked him when Neville was coming back – which not only had nothing to do with Transfiguration, but was naturally a sore point, as Neville's ascension as Head of House Gryffindor had only been made possible by Wenster's demotion in the first place. But then, Albus thought, that's probably why he was demoted. Blokes with that sort of attitude don't make good Heads of House.
The third good thing about Tuesday was that he and his friends all got to eat supper together. Sylvia and Scorpius were off Quidditch practice, which ran Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, just like last year. Albus personally thought three times a week was mad with everything else going on. But it had apparently worked well enough for a Quidditch Cup the year before, and Freddy wasn't about to try to fix something that wasn't broken.
The fourth good thing about Tuesday was that it was a day closer to Friday…
"Al," Scorpius called from somewhere behind where Albus was sitting at the edge of his bed. Albus craned his neck around to see the tall blond boy approaching with a towel draped over his bare neck and chest, shining with shower water. He really was quite thin and pale. Albus supposed it just ran in the family. Obviously, they were all fed well, the Malfoys… "Alright?"
"Sure," Albus said, finding Scorpius's extra concern a bit strange.
Scorpius tilted his head, assuming an expression that was more serious than normal. "You do know what today is, right…? Second Tuesday of October?"
"Today's the 8th," Albus recited, not realizing what Scorpius was getting at.
"Let me see if I can do this right," Rowan Lester said from across the room, clearing his throat. "'On next Tuesday, the eighth of October, we will be meeting for class at the Come and Go Room on the seventh floor. You will need only your wands.'"
"That was bloody awful," another boy's voice sounded from across the room. "You don't sound anything like Professor Malcolm."
"Let's see you do it better, then, McLaggen—" Scorpius started on their roommate – but Albus's heart had already started jolting with nervousness. There was only one reason Malcolm ever summoned the Defence Against The Dark Arts students to the Come and Go Room with only their wands…
"I've been working on my aim with the Stinging Hex Malcolm taught us," Sylvia commented enthusiastically at breakfast. She, unlike Albus, had remembered exactly what today was, and seemed a bit more energetic than usual. "Trying to hit smaller targets. Head, hands, knees, ankles… nadgers…" She raised her eyebrows and looked around the table for shocked expressions.
Rose didn't acknowledge that anything had been said. But Scorpius winced. Albus, meanwhile, tried not to ruminate too long on the awful levels of discomfort that would result from taking a Stinging Hex to one's nether regions.
"Please don't," Scorpius begged. "You know Malcolm would love an excuse to throw you in detention. We've got the match coming up in a few weeks, and we'll need everybody. We get Ravenclaw first this year, remember?"
"Ravenclaw. Right. Not Hufflepuff. Besides – I owe Mack one. He nearly killed me in our match last year with his mad flying," Sylvia said darkly.
"Wait…" Scorpius uttered. "Are you talking about Alex or Andrew?"
"'It's Alexander'," Sylvia replied, mocking the Mack twin that always insisted on being called by his full name. "And I don't know which one. I don't care, really. Maybe if I hit one, they'll both leave me alone."
"Or you'll piss them both off. You know he's not going to match either one of us against the Macks," Scorpius said. "He's not thick. He'll give you Bower or someone else he doesn't care about. Or Adriana."
Adriana was the third Mack sibling, and only girl. Bower was some nondescript bloke, even as far as Hufflepuffs go. Albus didn't remember him being significant for much.
"You'd better not try to duck out of this one, Al," Scorpius remarked after a few more bites of food.
"I haven't tried to duck out of any of them," Albus defended himself, a bit irritated.
"What about the last one?" probed Scorpius.
"That wasn't my fault," Albus explained. "Brynne Walter put her wand on the ground. She wouldn't duel me."
Scorpius frowned. "I've seen her around a lot this year. Something about her doesn't sit right with me."
"Wasn't she in the room with James?" Sylvia piped in. "You know, when…"
"That's the rumor," Scorpius replied, his diction deliberate. He gave an askance peek at Albus as if waiting (or wishing) for him to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"Yeah, but Dad won't talk to us about any of it," Albus added. "I guess since it's an official case, he's not allowed."
Sylvia drummed her fingers against the table. "I wonder where that Gervaise Cornwall bloke ended up. Probably twiddling his thumbs in Azkaban, I'd guess. Wait, can you twiddle your—"
"Gervaise Cornwall?" Rose repeated incredulously, looking up from a piece of parchment a second late as if just realizing Sylvia's error. Albus glanced at the parchment and realized that it was one of Rose's many pages of scrawled notes on incantations and the like. He supposed she was getting some last-minute preparation in before the practical. Not that she needed it. She wasn't a great duelist but she was unpredictable, with a command of several minor hexes most third years hadn't yet been taught how to neutralize. Rumor had it that Marsha Flint's arms still itched from what Rose had done to her last spring. "Are you talking about Garrick Claudius?"
"Who's Gervaise Cornwall, then?" Sylvia asked, looking around at her friends, nonplussed. "Why does that name seem familiar…?"
"He played Chaser for England World Cup before last," Scorpius remarked with the air of someone informing everyone that the sky was blue. Sylvia's jaw went slack for a second. "Unfortunately."
"How do you remember that kind of stuff?" groused Sylvia.
"You don't remember?" asked Scorpius. "Gervaise Stonehands?"
"…Oh!" Sylvia uttered after a moment's contemplation. Then she let out a laugh. "Yeah, I remember him. His real name's Cornwall? I grew up thinking 'Stonehands' was his actual surname."
"Well, it's all anybody ever called him after 'that' match," Scorpius remarked. "He was the first member of the Cannons to make England's national team in twenty years. Then, in the first Cup match, he dropped the Quaffle eleven times. That was the most by any one player in a hundred years. Needless to say, England didn't make it past the first round. And Cornwall was basically blackballed from the Brit after that. Nobody would sign him."
The 'Brit' was the most commonly used nickname for the British and Irish League – much to the irritation of the Irish.
"Anyway…" Sylvia sighed. "I meant Cadwallader. Or whatever his name was."
"Claudius," Rose sighed, palming her face. "It was Garrick Claudius. Honestly…"
"Claudius – that's it. Just trying to make sure you were paying atten…" Sylvia trailed off – Rose had gone back to her parchment midway through Sylvia's sentence. This gave Sylvia the chance to affect a snooty facial expression as she silently mouthed 'Claudius' in Albus's direction. He had to resist the urge to laugh.
"Probably in Azkaban, like you said," Rose said, standing up.
"Where are you going?" asked Sylvia.
"Class?" Rose replied, as if this should have been obvious. Then, perhaps realizing it wasn't, she added, "We've got twenty minutes and the Come and Go Room's a long walk from here."
The three others exchanged glances after she left and, with the same air of resignation, all stood up from the table.
They arrived at the seventh floor corridor to find that they were among the last to do so. The other students, stood in small knots with members of their own House. The Mack siblings seemed to be huddling for some reason or another.
"You cut it awful close," McLaggen piped up first. "You know how much Malcolm loves docking points from the Gryffindors."
"Where is Malcolm, anyway?" Scorpius asked. "Thought he'd be up here already."
"Probably sneaking in a couple of minutes of snogging with Gladstone somewhere," McLaggen chortled. Vaisey, standing next to him, rolled his eyes distastefully. But Liz O'Connell and Nina Edgerton were nearby as well. They turned to each other and giggled. By this point, despite their best efforts (which were, admittedly, somewhat feeble) the relationship between Professors Malcolm and Gladstone was an open secret among the student body.
"I hope you've got your practice in, Potter," Vaisey said. He'd probably thought his tone sounded casual; however, every word that seemed to come out of Vaisey's mouth nowadays was conspicuously mixed with at least a drop or two of venom. Albus discreetly drifted elsewhere, so as to have as many people between him and Vaisey as possible.
Albus jumped more than he meant to when Scorpius nudged him with an elbow.
"You alright, Albus?" Rose asked. "You seem a bit—oh."
Rose had seen… something. Albus went to give Scorpius his due attention, and it became obvious when everyone saw the same thing. Lilith Cross had appeared, leaning against a wall far away from her Hufflepuff classmates. Scorpius asked Albus for permission with his eyes. Albus, wordlessly, didn't understand why that was necessary. Nonetheless, he followed Scorpius, over Rose's feeble "Hey, what are—" and past the other Hufflepuffs, none of whom had acknowledged Lilith's existence, let alone her presence.
When Albus came face to face with Lilith, he realized, to his mild chagrin, that she was probably an inch taller than him. That said, she was still a shade shorter than Scorpius, who was as long-limbed as anybody in their year. There was a silence, during which no one said anything. Lilith seemed to be studying both of their faces.
"You've got gray eyes," she said. Scorpius's raised-eyebrow reaction threw his irises into sharp relief. "Ah… sorry. I just never noticed before."
She gave an apologetic smile to Scorpius.
"I'm assuming you have something to say to me," Lilith said, "since you bothered coming all the way over here."
Scorpius seemed to want to speak, but froze.
"Potter? Malfoy?"
Both Albus and Scorpius turned to find themselves face-to-black-robes with Professor Malcolm.
"What are you doing here?" asked Hufflepuff's Head of House.
Albus, in his head, had an answer, but was checking it for tone. Eventually, it came out in the politest way Albus could muster. "Having a conversation… sir."
Scorpius glanced at Albus with a brief, but perceptible expression of disbelief, and then looked at Malcolm.
"You know unsupervised interactions with students from other Houses are against the rules," Malcolm said. "You should be fortunate I'm in a good mood."
Malcolm did seem less stone-faced and grouchy, so there was that. He peered around Scorpius and a smile crossed his face. Albus grimaced uncomfortably. No one's smile should have been that terrifying to behold.
"Miss Cross," Malcolm intoned. "I should have known. Your sister always says you've got a knack for being a thorn in the side, and I'm inclined to agree with her."
There was an extreme venom in the eyes of Lilith Cross as she glared at Malcolm's back. He had approached the middle of the throng of third years and started talking. Under Malcolm's speech, however, Albus could hear Lilith's voice in a muffled mutter that sounded like it was strained through her teeth:
"Then you should have killed me."
Albus had no time to reflect on this statement – or its many, many implications – because not long after that, Malcolm had ushered them into the Come and Go Room and ordered them to line up by House. The Dueling Room, Albus noticed, had changed a bit since last year. The raised dais where the practice duels would presumably take place, still existed; however, it was wider in one direction than Albus had remembered it. Also, benches were now on either side.
Albus assumed Malcolm had made the room to alter ever so slightly depending on who he brought in with him. In this case, the sides were clearly marked, with Gryffindor banners on one side, and Hufflepuff banners (which, unless Albus's eyes were deceiving him, were larger and somewhat more numerous) on the other.
"For your sake, I hope the little you lot did learn about practical defence last year hasn't leaked out of your heads," Malcolm said. "If darkness descends on Hogwarts again like it has in the past, I won't let it be said that I did not arm you with the tools you needed to protect yourself."
"He likes hearing himself talk, doesn't he?" Scorpius murmured on Albus's right.
"I'd say," Sylvia replied on Albus's left. Albus glanced around for Rose, but she was sitting down now, still reading her notes. Next to her, to Albus's slight surprise, was Rowan Lester. It appeared he was trying to get a discreet peek. Unfortunately, Rose noticed, and yanked the parchment away.
Rowan didn't seem too fussed about this, and Albus heard him mutter something to Rose. "Invisible ink next time."
"Mr. Lester?" Malcolm had caught Rowan out – which, Albus thought mutinously to himself, only happened because Malcolm was looking for someone to catch. But Rowan stood up as cool as an October evening, hand in his pocket.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Since you're in such a chatty mood, how about you come up first?" Malcolm requested.
Rowan didn't seem at all nervous about dueling, period, let alone dueling first. He never talked much about what happened when he left Hogwarts in the summers with his godfather. Everyone just knew he was a bit different each time he came back. Two years ago he was a wide-eyed newcomer, a boy that, due to an unfortunate clerical error, didn't even know that he was a wizard until a week before the Hogwarts term started. He infamously had a bit of trouble with his wand technique in the first few lessons – mainly the part that went over which end of the wand to grip. Thankfully, he was a quick study – but that didn't stop his fellow first years from ribbing him about it on occasion for most of the term. Now, though, he knew as many spells as any of them – probably more.
"Mr. Mack," Malcolm called. "Let's see what you can do."
The two Hufflepuff boys surnamed Mack looked at each other, and then back at Malcolm. "Which one?" they chorused.
Amusingly, Malcolm tugged at the flesh on his forehead in annoyance. "Flip a Knut or something. One of you. It doesn't matter."
One of the two Macks said to the other, "You take him. He looks easy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" the other protested.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Adriana, their sister, groaned. "One of you go, or I will."
Meanwhile, Rowan was already on the dais, tapping his foot as if eager to get this over with. Finally, one of the Mack boys ascended the dais, wand already held at his side. Rowan looked completely unbothered.
Malcolm paused for a moment. "Alexander, right?"
"It's Andrew," came the reply from the Hufflepuff third-year.
Malcolm sighed heavily. Clearly, he thought for some reason that he should have been able to guess the correct twin.
"It's alright," Andrew Mack consoled him. "Not even our own mum can tell sometimes."
"Has either of you considered a haircut?" Malcolm asked casually, prompting a couple of sniggers from the Hufflepuff side. "Wands at the ready."
Rowan raised his wand to the bridge of his nose. Andrew Mack followed suit. Then Rowan's free hand emerged from his pocket. Whatever the ball was he had brought to last year's duels – a rubber, Snitch-sized thing that bounced well – Rowan had evidently found two more of them at some point, and held all three now in the spaces between his fingers. Andrew Mack, who likely hadn't seen these before, flashed a grimace of confusion.
"Go on," Malcolm said casually.
Rowan let the rubber balls drop. Then he cast his spell; "Incarcerous!"
"Diffindo!" Andrew stepped aside and let the long twine that had erupted from Rowan's wand snake past him. Then, with a slash of his own wand and the incantation, he cut the rope in half. "Please. Everybody tries that move—"
"Oppugno!" Rowan shouted. Andrew was just then looking up.
"Ouch! Oof!" Three rubber bullets bounced off Andrew Mack's face in quick succession.
Sylvia, beside Albus, let out a badly disguised wheeze of laughter.
"Oi! Mack!" shouted Desmond McLaggen suddenly. "What's it feel like to get beat to death by Lester's balls?"
"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. McLaggen – inappropriate," Malcolm said loudly without looking at any of the Gryffindors.
"Idiot," Sylvia whisper-snarled at McLaggen, rolling her eyes. But McLaggen didn't seem concerned in the least bit.
"Completely worth it," Albus heard McLaggen mutter to Vaisey, who, in true Vaisey fashion, had no reaction to the moment at all.
"Oppugno!" Rowan yelled again. Andrew Mack was ready this time.
"Duro!" he called, almost sounding unsure whether it would work. But his three rubber assailants turned to solid stone and dropped to the ground with separate clatters.
Rowan gave a short grimace. Clearly he hadn't seen that coming.
"So are you going to duel me like a man or not?" Andrew Mack shouted tauntingly.
Rowan stood there, wordlessly and unflappably. Then he raised his wand and began whirling it in small circles.
"Velos gyrari," he incanted, continuing his motion. The invocation must have thrown Andrew off, because he looked around himself, searching for the effect of the spell.
It didn't take long to find.
Something had risen around Andrew's body, encircling him with a blurry halo. It rose up to his chest and then to his head.
Something in Malcolm's eyes flashed as he glanced at Rowan.
"Give up," Rowan advised. "It won't be fun for any bones you've got if you try to escape."
Andrew Mack frowned. "You're a cocky—"
He reached for the halo.
A horrible, firecracker-like pop split the air and Andrew Mack withdrew his hand and crumpled to his knees immediately.
"Drew!" his siblings chorused.
Rowan sighed in disappointment. "I'll bet he broke his hand. He's going to need Madam Pomfrey."
"That won't be necessary," Malcolm said, stepping in. Grabbing a surprisingly gentle hold of a wincing Andrew's hand, he muttered an incantation. A moment later, Andrew was on his feet again, rolling his wrist and flexing his fingers, which all seemed to be good as new. Malcolm offered his other hand. Andrew stared at it for a moment. "Grab it," Malcolm said. Andrew, looking bewildered, clasped his right hand around Malcolm's wrist. With a sigh, Malcolm withdrew his hand, and said, "You're alright. No lasting damage."
Andrew muttered something. Malcolm stepped back.
"What was that?" he said. Whatever had caused the uncharacteristic gentleness in his manner was now suddenly gone.
Andrew cringed, head down. "I said I'm sor—"
"STOP!" Malcolm exploded, making everyone jump. Andrew didn't need telling twice. "Don't be sorry. Learn. Be better next time. And don't drop your head in front of me. Ever."
Then, he raised his voice, apparently to address the class as a whole.
"Don't presume you can beat every adversary the same way. Monsters, fell creatures – those are easy if you've prepared yourself. Dealing with other wizards – human beings that use the magical arts, Dark or otherwise… that's where defending yourself becomes a challenge. Can anyone tell me why that is?"
A hand shot up, slightly outside of the knot of Hufflepuffs.
Malcolm appeared to hesitate for a moment. "Miss Cross?"
"Because you don't know their story," Lilith Cross's voice answered. "You don't know their abilities, what they've been taught, who taught them… an enemy you don't know can always be dangerous because they can always do something you don't expect."
The silence that filled the room was thick and icy.
"That's a correct answer," Malcolm said, "But not the only correct answer. In fact – why don't we see what you can make of… Miss Thomas?"
Albus glanced toward Sylvia.
"What's he playing at?" Scorpius queried at a whisper.
"I don't care," Sylvia interrupted him. "She doesn't scare me."
"Be careful," Albus advised her.
"Yeah, there's something off about her," Scorpius echoed.
But Sylvia smirked, almost flippantly, and said, "You worry too much. Both of you." She ascended the dais, her gaze lingering on Albus for several steps. An unnervingly calm smile was on her face as she turned to look at Lilith, who for the first time looked uncomfortable.
"What are you waiting for?" Sylvia asked after a few moments. "Draw your wand."
Lilith seemed to want to say something. She looked lost for a moment. Then, though, she pulled her wand from her robes. She muttered something.
"Can't hear you," Sylvia said. "Expelliarmus!"
Sylvia cast the spell with a rather wide flourish toward her off-shoulder. Albus cringed; his father and brother had both told him at separate points never to flourish like that. Predictably, it gave Lilith enough time to duck out of the way and fire her own incantation – "Oculus Aculeo!"
A white jet of light burst forth from Lilith's wand – aimed right at Sylvia's face. Sylvia teetered away just barely.
"What was that?" Scorpius muttered. "I don't remember studying that one."
"Conjunctivitis Curse," Rowan's voice joined the conversation somewhere near Albus's ear, making him jump – he hadn't known Rowan was standing there. "Makes your eyes sore and swollen. Not comfortable. Useful if you're facing down a Welsh Green, though."
"Welsh Green… like the dragon?" Scorpius asked with a badly-disguised tinge of shock in his voice.
"Dragons really hate having their eyes messed with," Rowan remarked. "So you'll piss it off, but you might also have a good shot at getting away."
"You read this somewhere, I'm guessing?" Scorpius queried.
Rowan significantly hesitated to answer. "…Long story."
(Scorpius could only react with a toneless "…what?")
Albus couldn't help feeling a small tinge of jealousy for Rowan. It seemed like he'd learned more about the wizarding world in two summers with his uncle than Albus had in thirteen years.
A bright flash turned his and the other boys' attention back to the dueling dais, where Sylvia was stumbling backward, flailing and patting down one of the arms of her cloak as white sparks rose from it.
"Igniculus!" Sylvia shouted, pointing her wand downward toward the region of Lilith's ankles. A small ember burst out of the bottom hem of Lilith's robes and ignited into a full, growing flame almost instantly. Lilith staggered backward and let out an utterance of mild surprise that, in Albus's opinion, wasn't nearly urgent enough for someone whose robes had just caught fire. Malcolm leaned forward and seemed for a moment to want to step in, but held himself back.
"Diffindo!" Lilith didn't panic – with a slashing motion, she cut away some of the burning fabric, leaving a rather large swath of her robe missing. She watched it burn for a moment. "My mum just got me these."
She looked up at Sylvia again, her eyes flashing. "Oppugno!"
"What?" Rowan muttered. "Why's she –"
It became obvious when the still-smoldering chunk of fabric shot off the ground and toward Sylvia's head like a fireball.
Sylvia stood frozen for a moment, and then dug her feet in. It took a second or two for Albus to realize what Sylvia was going to attempt.
"Sylvia, no!" he blurted out loudly. "Don't!"
Sylvia turned her head to glance at him, much to Albus's horror. For once, he didn't want her to look at him – he wanted her to get the hell out of the way.
Then, though, Sylvia raised her wand at the approaching blaze, and with a swish and flick of her wand, she shouted:
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The fireball stopped, rose into the air and guttered. But Albus's immense relief was short-lived.
"Flipendo Duo!" a call came from the other side of the room. The spell hit an unprepared Sylvia with an audible thumping noise, and then threw her violently backward to the floor. She let out an awful cry of pain, as she hit the hard ground, bounced and rolled.
But her grip on her wand held – and she sat up.
"Everte Statum!" she choked out in a cracked yell. Lilith Cross, although a moment late in reacting, tried to block it, but the spell overpowered her defense and sent her flying backward through the air. She hit the ground even harder than Sylvia had, and the force of the landing separated her from her wand, which clattered to the ground and stopped as she kept rolling.
Everything went eerily still for a moment. Then Lilith started to stir. Malcolm stepped forward and took hold of Lilith's wand. By the time he approached to hand it to her, she was already on her feet.
"You've lost," Malcolm said with a chill in his tone, proffering her the wand.
Lilith snatched her wand back and walked away.
Sylvia scrabbled backward on her elbows and then tried to rise. A gasp escaped her and she flopped to her back for a moment. She took a few short, labored breaths, then tried to roll to her side. This time, her cry of pain was audible, and yet she kept going until she was to her stomach. Albus glanced at Rowan, who was not looking at Sylvia at all. He was looking right at Professor Malcolm, waiting for some sort of response to Sylvia's obvious injury. None came.
"Professor, she's hurt," Rowan finally said loudly.
"I've noticed," Malcolm said gravely. "She'll need Madam Pomfrey to look at her."
"But you just—" Rowan started, vaguely pointing in the direction of the Mack siblings.
"The occasional broken bone, I can take care of, if the break's clean," Malcolm interrupted him. "But I'm not so arrogant to believe I can fix every injury. Madam Pomfrey's the safer option."
By this time, Sylvia had scooted herself to the edge of the dais. Without any prompting, Albus ran over to stand near her. He was immediately thankful that Scorpius showed up to aid him. Sylvia was about to climb down into his grip and, while he wasn't scrawny as far as teenage boys go, he wasn't exactly a paragon of physical strength and fitness, either. In the end, Sylvia, with a slight hiss as she felt whatever injuries she'd sustained, let herself down with an arm around each boy's shoulders, and they guided her to the ground where she at last took her own feet.
Scorpius immediately backed away, leaving Sylvia to hang somewhat on Albus's neck for support. Albus tried to mouth something to him – but Scorpius just raised his eyebrows and walked away without a word. Albus had no idea at what, if any, point Rowan and Malcolm were at in their conversation, but he decided to cut in anyway. "I'll take her."
"No, you won't," Malcolm said very flatly. "You're up next."
Albus felt a rare surge of anger toward Malcolm, and nearly responded, when suddenly –
"I've got her," Rowan appeared next to them, and announced to everyone. Then, as if knowing Albus would question this, he added, "I should do it – I've already finished up for the day."
"Fine," Malcolm replied tersely, as Sylvia let go of Albus (reluctantly? Or maybe Albus was imagining things…) and attempted to keep her balance. One of her hands went immediately to her side as her face contorted in discomfort. "Door should still work."
"Should?" repeated Rowan appraisingly.
"It works," Malcolm reassured him. "As reliably as anything else in this castle."
That was a truthful answer, Albus thought. Hogwarts Castle wasn't just a school of magic; it ran on magic. Very complex magic. Typically, the more ancient and complex the magic, the more chance there was for something to go slightly awry. In the case of Hogwarts Castle, that sometimes meant that doors, stairs, or magic portals would lead somewhere different than they were intended to go. Albus watched Sylvia limp off and Rowan follow her, hoping that didn't happen this time.
"Potter," Malcolm said insistently. Albus tore his eyes away from Sylvia and started up the stairs…
James
James could hear the murmuring of far too many students before he even crossed the threshold of the Great Hall.
"I guess they're not staggering lunch periods anymore?" he muttered as they entered to a Great Hall that was mostly full at all four tables.
Richard Murphy was next to him and let out a groan of frustration. "Binns and his bloody 'class is over when I say it's over.' Whoever thought to have him teach a class right before lunch needs a swift kick up the— 'scuse me…"
A brown-haired girl and her black-haired friend were blocking the way.
"What?" the brunette turned around, but then her eyes lit up. "Oh!"
Immediately, the girl threw her arms around Murphy's waist. Murphy seemed taken aback, less in confusion but more in shock at finding her here. He tried to pat her head but she sort of ducked away. "Rick," she droned. "I just combed it."
"Didn't do much," Murphy uttered with a smirk on his face – but he immediately got a punch in his ribs for his trouble.
"Shut it, you," the brunette snapped. Then she turned to her black-haired friend. "Addy, this is my brother, Richard. You two haven't met before, right?"
"I've seen him around," Addy said a bit haughtily. It took all of two seconds for James to get the impression that Addy had a privileged upbringing.
But then, so did you, a voice in James's head answered. And you don't act like that.
You're right, I don't, James thought back to the voice in his head. …I don't, do I?
Addy extended her hand, but not toward Murphy.
"So you must be James Potter, right? My name's Addison Finch-Fletchley."
James hesitated to shake Addy's hand, but finally did it. Then, hastily, Anna said, "We've got to go back to the dorms to pick up our afternoon stuff."
"Why didn't you bring it all with you?" asked Murphy.
"Have you tried lugging your Potions things around all day?" Anna groused.
Murphy grimaced. "Fair point."
"See you later." Anna departed around Murphy and James. But she took her eyes off her brother for a moment, allowing him to get his palm to the top of her head. "Hey!" she squealed. Murphy just laughed. And the last thing either he or James heard from Anna before her voice faded was, "You're just jealous because my hair looks better than yours!"
"I don't care about my hair that much," said Murphy, primping down his shoulder-length, light brown locks. James raised his eyebrows and started walking again. "It's been almost a week," Murphy remarked behind him, and the humor in his voice was gone. "We live in the same place, and it's been damn near a week since I got to talk to my own sister. How mad is that?"
"Pretty effing mad… but that's the way things are now," James said, scanning the Slytherin table for any sign of his own sister – unsuccessfully.
His brother, though, he found – at the Gryffindor table, along with Rose and Scorpius. All three of them were eating rather solemnly.
"Al!" James exclaimed. Albus, looking lost in thought, didn't respond until Scorpius lightly hit his shoulder. James watched his little brother look up with a start. Clearly, he had something on his mind. "What's going on? You look like somebody just died."
"Hold on…" Murphy interjected, his eyes darting in their sockets as they did a quick scan of the table. "Someone's missing."
It took a moment for James to register the absence – he wasn't sure why. "Where's Sylvia?"
"In the hospital wing," Scorpius said tersely.
"Hospital wing? What happened?" James asked, sitting down.
"Defence," Rose said simply. "She got hurt during the practical."
"So you're here instead of up there with her?" asked James.
"Do you even need to ask that question? You know how Madam Pomfrey is," Scorpius answered hotly. He was glaring down at his food, his grip on his fork rather tight. The meal wasn't that bad, was it…? No, his mind was on something else…
"Don't eff with me, Malcolm," a loud voice called. James, Murphy, and several others in the Great Hall turned their heads.
"Temper, Arbiter," Malcolm and Arbiter Thomas were at the great doors. "You don't hear me trying to lecture you on how to referee our Quidditch matches, do you? Even though your performance in the last Hufflepuff match last year was nothing short of egregious—"
"Of course you don't lecture me, because you don't know what you're talking about," Arbiter Thomas answered.
"Exactly," Malcolm replied icily. He attempted to walk away, but the Arbiter wasn't done with him yet.
"Keep something in mind," he said. "Everything you teach theory on, I've lived."
"So you should know better than anyone why this is necessary," said Malcolm. "Your daughter will thank me when it's all said and done, as will the rest of the families of these children."
"My daughter is laid up in a hospital wing bed because you're being reckless," Arbiter Thomas responded. "I don't care what you're trying to prove – leave these kids out of it. Someone's going to wind up dying on your watch if you're not careful…"
"Don't throw stones in a glass house, Dean," Malcolm said coldly. "Didn't you have one of my first years break his wrist in a flying lesson just a couple of weeks ago? Making a functional, adult wizard or witch isn't always a safe process. But your daughter's a tough girl. I daresay she'll run into far worse trouble on the Quidditch pitch before everything's said and done."
"We got by just fine without practice duels when I was coming up in Hogwarts," Dean mentioned, at which point, Malcolm, who had been walking away, stopped and turned around.
"Did you? Did you really?" he asked significantly. Then he left Dean there to ruminate on his question. After several moments, the arbiter turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall.
"Someone's not happy," Murphy commented rather unnecessarily.
"Oh? No kidding," Scorpius snarked nastily.
"Honestly, what's got you in such a mood?" Rose asked.
The glare she got in return from Scorpius was so terrifying, James was surprised Rose didn't catch fire on the spot.
"Isn't it a funny coincidence that every time Sylvia comes in contact with Lilith Cross, something bad happens?" Scorpius said.
"Whoa… hold on. Lilith Cross?" uttered James.
"Yeah. She's the one that jinxed Sylvia," Albus replied. "We've got our double Defence period with Hufflepuff."
The same was true for James and Murphy; but the fourth year practicals weren't until next week.
It was probably nothing… just (as much as he hated to admit to Malcolm being right) part of the territory that came with dueling other students. After all, Lilith, from what he had remembered of her, had always been somewhat advanced for her age. James and Murphy had started discussion over the Silentstep Charm right after coming back from the Christmas holidays last year. James still wasn't good at casting it effectively. Lilith was able to do it in her first year. That she would have been a strong duelist wouldn't have surprised him.
Unsettlingly, Sylvia was absent from Quidditch practice the next day. Apparently, the jinx Lilith had used on her had cracked a couple of her ribs, and while Madam Pomfrey was able to mend the bones themselves easily, Sylvia was still too sore to fly. Coraline Pike ran most of the drills with James and Asher Rodney instead. James didn't find this very fun. Rodney wasn't in the greatest of moods, and it felt like he was trying to take his fellow Chasers' hands off with every pass he threw. Coraline dropped one. Rodney yelled at her. Dorian Cresswell, one of the new reserves who was a classmate of Coraline's, didn't take kindly to this, and he and the older and considerably larger Chaser nearly came to blows before Freddy could separate them. Freddy decided at that point that the team had had enough, and ended practice a few minutes early. Rodney stormed off in a huff and Freddy quickly followed.
Cresswell was still boiling. His fists and forearms were clenched and he looked ready to punch anyone who got too close.
"You've gotta try and calm down," Alphonse Gold advised him.
"He was being a bully," Cresswell snarled. "I can't stand people like that…"
"He's not normally like that. You know that by now," Gold answered. "Something's got him in a…"
"That's not an excuse," Cresswell argued. He walked over to Coraline Pike, who had busied herself with inspecting her broom. James supposed that the Pike siblings' parents must have been well off. She (like Scorpius, who had been silently observing this scene from next to James) rode a new Firebolt Vintage Reissue. The broom, which was modeled after the original 1993 Firebolt but with a slightly better braking charm, was a hefty piece of hardware to be giving a twelve-year-old, James thought. Then again, he'd gotten a Cleansweep X-V the Christmas of his second year, so he couldn't exactly talk…
Scorpius whirled around and started walking back up toward the castle with his broom. James observed him for a moment and then decided to follow. Students couldn't walk the halls alone anymore, after all…
"Scorpius." After a while, he called after the blond-haired boy, who looked surprised at having been spoken to. He'd been lost in thought. He looked frustrated, and James had a good idea why. Scorpius hated seeing his teammates fight with one another. Winners don't do that sort of stuff, he'd said once last year.
"What's going on?" Scorpius asked tersely. Honestly, even after two years, James didn't much know how to talk to Scorpius. He wasn't at all bad (particularly for what his family was, the nasty voice in James's head said again before he suppressed it) but he was strange. Scorpius had never completely found his command of social grace and he never seemed quite happy. James honestly didn't know how Albus and the others dealt with him. Well, no – he knew how Albus dealt with him. It was Albus. Getting along with people, particularly difficult people, seemed to come naturally to him.
"…How's Albus holding up?" James probed.
Scorpius grimaced. "He's your brother. Why don't you ask him?"
"Because there's no way in hell he'd give me a straight answer," James scoffed. "He wouldn't want me to think he was being weak if there was something wrong."
Scorpius's lips drew long and narrow across his face. "Well, he won yesterday. I don't guess he would have told you. Dueling's not really fun for him."
James felt a surge of pride for his younger brother. "He won? How?"
"Disarming Charm," Scorpius explained. "He beat… uh… what's his name? Bower. From Hufflepuff. Took the wand from between his fingers at thirty feet and didn't harm a hair on his head. That's not easy, even at the best of times – and I know his mind was somewhere else."
By this point, they were inside again. James gazed at a point down the hall that he guessed was thirty feet or so away, trying to imagine Disarming someone from that distance without knocking them down while in the heat of the moment. Scorpius was right. It wasn't easy. "Somewhere else? What do you mean?"
Scorpius frowned. "It 'just so happened' Malcolm decided to have Albus go next right after Sylvia got hurt. He was going to take her to the hospital wing before… does he talk to you about anything important?"
Scorpius had stopped and changed thoughts mid-sentence, which was strange for him. James hesitated for a moment, taken aback at the question. "No," James finally said, realizing it with more than a bit of shame. I'm a rubbish older brother, aren't I…?
"You should ask him about her," Scorpius suggested. "If you ever get a moment to yourselves."
"You know, don't you?" asked James.
"I could tell you," Scorpius said simply. "But I shouldn't. So I won't."
James was nonplussed. "What's that mean?"
"I don't have a right," Scorpius replied simply. "But…"
He trailed off and seemed to contemplate for a moment.
"You remember the fire, right?" asked Scorpius.
"Well, yeah," James said. He was holding back information, too. He wondered if Albus had told Scorpius about James's involvement.
"Sylvia saved Albus's life and almost died trying," Scorpius said. James's heart skipped a step and his legs almost went with it, so great was the shock.
He stood stunned, staring at Scorpius for several seconds. "Merlin's balls. He never told me that."
Scorpius opened his mouth a bit. Then he bit his lip and gave a shake of his head, apropos to nothing. "Lilith Cross caused that fire."
"I know," James said immediately. Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "But she was cursed when…"
"Cursed?" Scorpius repeated. "That's what you think?"
"You don't believe her?" James asked. He had never doubted it for a second. He knew what he'd seen, after all. "Have you ever seen someone who's been Imperiused? I don't imagine Malcolm's telling you lot much about the Unforgivable Curses at your level, but…"
"No, I haven't," Scorpius snapped at James. "Why would you think I would?"
James grimaced uncomfortably. "I… I just sorta figured…"
"You figured, because I'm a Malfoy, I grew up knowing about every bit of Dark Magic known to man," Scorpius answered, sounding more weary than offended – like he got this sort of reaction all the time. "My father taught me a few spells before I came to Hogwarts, but nothing like that. He only taught me enough to defend myself."
"Defend yourself?" repeated James. "From what?"
Scorpius rolled his gray eyes; he did seem offended now. "Come on. Don't be stupid. My father knew what I could be getting myself into. The Malfoy name's mud in wizard society – at best. Hell, you tried to attack me two years ago."
James looked away guiltily.
"Anyway… no, I don't know what it looks like when someone's under the Imperius Curse," Scorpius deadpanned. "I've only ever heard of it. I've never cast it, never seen it being cast, don't know what it looks like. But I'll bet you do, right? Son of the Head Auror and all?"
"I might have… skimmed a few of my dad's old books on the Dark Arts in my free time," James admitted.
"So you think she was Imperiused?" Scorpius asked. "How would you know? Did you see her that day?"
James frowned. "You could say that. What's more is—"
"Speak of the devil," Scorpius said ominously, and James whirled around in that direction. Standing several paces away, apparently oblivious to their presence, was a young witch, wand out and pointed down at her feet.
"Ambulo Tacitum!" she whispered. Her shoes radiated a momentary, bright light, as the space around her shone and distorted. She then pulled a hood up over her head and ears and started to walk noiselessly in the other direction.
Besides James, Scorpius respired loudly and shook his head. "No."
"Scorpius –"
But Scorpius had already drawn his wand and taken careful aim. "Incarcerous."
The end of Scorpius's wand spat forth a long but sturdy-looking twine rope into the corridor. The witch was hardly visible, but an audible yell of shock signaled that Scorpius's spell had hit its mark. Scorpius took off in a run down the hallway. James, swearing to himself, sprinted in an attempt to keep close enough to keep Scorpius from doing something (else) stupid.
"Diffin—" the witch, flailing her free wand arm toward the region of her lower legs, tried to mutter.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Scorpius interrupted her incantation, just as James was arriving. "You botch that and you'll have stumps where your ankles used to be."
The girl, who had fallen onto her side with her lower legs bound together in twine, rolled to her back. Her body shook and her chest heaved in a sort of breathless laughter.
"Malfoy? Didn't see that coming," she said wearily. James wasn't sure if she was exhausted, exhilarated, or simply found the situation amusing. "I thought you'd be Corbin, for a moment. Where is he, anyway? I'm always getting followed by someone or another."
"God, I can't imagine why," Scorpius droned mordantly.
"It's usually a Prefect or something," she answered, still sounding out of breath. "They sent first years once or twice, but I caught one in my room last month and sent her back with her legs bound together. Locomotor Mortis is easier, by the way."
"Is this funny to you? Do I look like I'm in the mood for 'funny'?" Scorpius very nearly snarled. "What the hell do you want with Sylvia?"
"That? That wasn't anything," she answered.
"You tried to scorch her face with a fireball," Scorpius deadpanned. "Then you cracked two of her ribs."
"Two?" she repeated, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I must be out of practice."
Scorpius's lips tightened all the way across his face and he tried to take a deep breath. He took a couple of steps away from her – but then he whirled back around quickly, and wand-first. An ominous-looking golden light took over the tip. James didn't know what spell that sort of light signaled, but it didn't look friendly.
"Scorpius—" he uttered feebly.
"I'm only going to tell you this once, Lilith Cross." Scorpius's voice trembled. "I don't know what you're trying to do, and I don't care. Stay – away – from – my – friends."
At this, Lilith chuckled. A strange smile crossed her face. "You're not going to. You wouldn't."
"Oh, really?" Scorpius inquired savagely. "Why wouldn't I?"
"You've worked too hard," Lilith answered. "And if it got out that you hexed a defenseless young girl… well, then you're exactly what everyone already thinks you are. I'm half-blood, by the way. Mum's a pureblood witch, Dad was Muggleborn."
"Why do you think I give a damn about how 'pure' your blood is?" Scorpius retorted, his voice a sandpaper snarl. Clearly, something Lilith said had touched a nerve.
"You don't," she replied knowingly. "But it's no fun being judged for something that had nothing to do with you, is it?"
Scorpius, after another tense few moments, lowered his wand… to Lilith's bound legs.
"Diffindo." He cast the spell with a very slow, careful motion, and the rope bonds began to come apart as if undone by a fine blade. Lilith sat up.
"No matter what you do, some people aren't ever going to see you as anything more than 'that bloke with the Death Eater family,'" she said. "Like me… all I'll ever be to some people is 'the girl that tried to set the Great Hall on fire.' We're not that different, really. Except…"
She stood to her feet and approached very close to Scorpius.
"You know exactly where it all comes from," she explained. "You know what your father and grandfather were. Everybody does. But who cursed me? Who are they? Why did they make me do what I did?"
Scorpius's face remained stoic. "You act like I'm supposed to know."
"Someone has to," Lilith replied. "It's only been a couple of years. It's not like everyone's gone that was here before."
"They might be," James finally piped in. Lilith did a double take, seemingly almost having forgotten that James was standing there. "Do you know who Morris Beal is?"
"You mean my sister's old boyfriend?" Lilith said too casually. "He was a couple of years up, and I guess they fell apart after he graduated. No one's heard from him. He was an alright bloke, I guess. Better than my sister deserved. I liked him. He's… he's the one that stopped me when it happened…"
James stood in stunned silence.
"I wish he was here right now," she confessed, her voice taking on the tremulous quality of someone barely succeeding at keeping their composure. "He'd know what to do about all this."
James lost track of himself at that moment, his mundane actions consumed by a red haze of rage. The next thing he recalled doing was arriving at his dormitory and rattling the walls with how hard he slammed the door.
"Bloody hell!" somebody yelped, jumping out of their bed. "What the—oh. What's wrong?"
James recognized the voice but largely ignored it. He pressed his forehead against the nearest wall gently in an effort to calm himself.
"James? James?" someone kept calling.
James could only murmur what he was thinking. "I'm gonna kill him."
"James," the voice repeated, this time more softly but more insistently, and he finally turned around. James's eyes, already brimming over without him having noticed, focused on the hard, blue eyes of his best friend. "Calm down and tell me what happened."
"It's worse than I thought," James finally said.
"What's worse?" asked Murphy. "What do you mean?"
"Lilith," James said. "She…"
"You ran into her?" Murphy asked. James nodded. Murphy frowned. "She doesn't remember anything, does she?"
"It's worse than that," James answered, kneading his forehead and face and slumping back against the wall. "She remembers it all wrong. Beal's some sort of hero to her. He Imperiused her to start the fire in the Great Hall, then screwed with her memory so she wouldn't know who did it. I'll bet he had something to do with her not coming back last year, either. And then… Brynne… oh, God…"
"Calm down," Murphy repeated. "Brynne's alright."
"How can you be sure about that?"
"Didn't you see her?" asked Murphy. "The first night, at the Sorting? Did she look alright to you?"
James didn't answer. He went silent for a long time, in fact, until finally—
"You need to see her," Murphy said very declaratively.
"But we can't—" James started, but Murphy was out of patience.
"To hell with what the rules are right now," he snapped. "You haven't been right since that night."
James tried to look at Murphy directly in the eye – but then he saw that scar again. That was his fault, too, he remembered…
Two loud raps on the door of the dormitory made both boys jump.
THUMP. The door shook with the force of a hard impact once again.
"We need everyone available in the Gryffindor common room NOW!" a voice shouted from the other side of the door.
Murphy raised an eyebrow. "The hell was that? Temple? That sounded like Temple's voice. Should we check it out?"
James said nothing – but then the door opened. A unicorn stepped across the threshold – or Martin Croyle, which was virtually the same thing.
"Something's happened," Croyle gasped. It sounded like he'd run quite a distance to get here. "I think we've really stepped in it."
"What's going on?" Murphy queried.
"I don't know details, but a Gryffindor's been attacked," Croyle replied. Murphy glanced at James, jaw a bit slack for a moment.
"Attacked?" he finally repeated.
"It sounds like what it sounds like," Croyle answered. "For what that's worth. You heard Temple – we've gotta get down to the common room. He didn't sound like he was asking."
And he whirled around and left again.
James's heart jumped into his throat. "Did he say who—"
"No," Murphy interrupted.
"Damn…" James whispered to himself in a mild panic, brushing past Murphy and out of the dormitory – but not before taking a moment to make sure he had his wand and knew exactly where it was.
Please not Albus or Hugo, anyone but them…