The revelation hit James Potter like a Bludger to the forehead. There was a moment where the room itself spun and the faces of the people before him melted away and swam around in his field of vision. He thought he was going to black out. He might have blacked out, for a second or two.
But then the world in all of its pieces came back together and took shape. He awoke to silence, to far too many pairs of eyes peering at him as if he was meant to be the one to decide their next move.
It was Serra Paxton, after taking a long, deep breath, that finally spoke.
"Okay," she said haltingly. "The last thing we need to do is panic or do anything rash. First we need to find out—"
"NO! SCREW THAT! THEY'VE GOT MY SISTER!" The echo of the sound that came from James's mouth scared even him in the aftermath. It was something inhuman, and he felt the burn of his throat and immediately knew he had fouled up his voice horribly. Meanwhile, Serra had clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. The Albertine brothers had drawn their wands. And, honestly, James couldn't blame them. If he had heard someone else make the sound he had just somehow made, that would have been his first instinct as well. He was feeling cold sweat run down his temples. His hands were trembling. Weakly – because his voice could no longer manage anything else – he repeated, "They've got my sister."
He turned around and walked away from the others to be alone with his rage. Everything he had done up to this point – everything – was, at least in part, so something like this would never happen. His father had told him – implored him – to take care of her. And he had meant to do that by any means necessary.
"We shouldn't have left her," he heard someone comment. Somebody snapped on the other boy.
"Dammit, Howell, this isn't the time!" It was the voice of Rowan Lester.
"No—" Brynne's voice joined in. "He's right. I told her to keep well out of the way, thinking she'd be safe. God, I was such an idiot. I never should have let her be seen with us. James…"
He felt a hand on his back.
"This isn't your fault," he answered. "Whoever did this wanted me, not you."
"Besides," Rowan's voice pointed out reasonably, "would she have been better off if she'd come with us? You saw what just happened out there."
"…I think we're missing something fairly obvious," Scorpius Malfoy decided to chime in.
"And what's that?" Rowan asked, with a bit of a distrustful edge in his voice.
"This could be some sort of trap," replied Scorpius.
"You really think I'm going to take that chance?!" James whirled around, and might have been making a beeline straight for Scorpius Malfoy with bad intentions if it hadn't been for Brynne being right in front of him.
"Of course you're not going to take that chance – and they know you wouldn't take that chance. That's why it would work," Scorpius pointed out calmly.
The Albertine brothers exchanged glances.
"To be fair, that's solid logic," Mark, the older of the two, remarked.
"God, I never thought Hawes would stoop this low," Kadric Howell snarled to himself. James grasped the hair nearest his forehead into both fists and pulled it down, nearly out – and turned his back on everybody, trying not to succumb to the very real, very sudden, and very frightening temptation to pull out his wand and start hexing everyone in the room.
"You haven't been paying attention, then," Lena Urquhart contended next. "He and Claudius both beat Steph bloody last year."
"It wasn't Hawes that did this," James heard himself say as something clicked into place in his brain.
"It must have been the Slytherins. They're the only ones that would be able to get to her," he heard Kadric Howell remark.
"He was probably part of it, sure…" James answered. "But I should have known from the off. This has Bletchley written all over it."
He heard Brynne gasp behind him.
"He hates me," James explained simply, admittedly a bit irritated that Brynne couldn't seem to get this through her head after all this time. "He's been jealous of me for years now."
Brynne sighed.
"Is that not true?" James asked, trying to keep his patience with her and keeping his back turned. He couldn't look anyone in the eye just yet.
After a couple of seconds, Brynne nodded. With an incongruous hand of comfort on his back, she said, rather bluntly. "It's true. He hates you."
James turned around at this.
"Did you think I'd say something different?" Brynne asked. "I'm not going to lie to you. He hates you. And he hates himself for not being you. It's… complicated." She averted her eyes for a moment. "But…"
"To go this low over Quidditch, though—" Kadric Howell started.
"Are you daft?" Lena queried. "You think this is just over Quidditch? God, no. I mean, I'm sure that bit doesn't help, but Bletchley can't deal with the fact that James is the one—"
She stopped short and clapped her hands over her mouth while Kadric Howell and several others gave her strange glances. Lena glanced at James and then at Brynne.
Brynne gave a somber smile to Lena and put her hand around one of James's, which had been clenched into a tight fist but slackened a bit at her touch.
"It's alright. He knows," she told her. But then Brynne looked up at James, now taking hold of both of his hands. "You know, right?"
James, of course, didn't think this was quite the time for this – but it wasn't going to change his answer. He nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak at the moment.
"Then you'll trust what I'm telling you," Brynne said, the slightest hint of a plea shining behind her blue eyes. "Phillip didn't do it."
James wanted to badly to believe Brynne would not lie to him – even up to this point, she had never done it before.
"How can you be sure of that?" queried Scorpius Malfoy. "That it wasn't Bletchley?"
"Very easily," Brynne said. "First, that was a handwritten letter – and that wasn't his handwriting."
"How are you so sure that wasn't his handwriting?" asked James.
"Simple," Brynne answered. "I've been sitting classes next to him for almost three years. I know Phillip's handwriting, and this isn't it. This was blocky and sloppy. Phillip doesn't even write like that when he's in a hurry. His is neat. Chaser hands – very steady."
No one could argue such a plausible answer. Even Serra murmured, "I guess that does make sense."
"So it must have been Hawes," accused Kadric Howell.
"Might be Amara or Marsha Flint," Lena countermanded.
"No – they know better," Brynne uttered briskly. She always gave this vague answer when referring to her two roommates, who had bullied her in her earlier Hogwarts days until she did… something… to the both of them that had earned their compliance. James had never thought of asking her what this something was. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure he needed or wanted to know.
"So we're assuming it's a Slytherin, then?" Rowan, uncertain on his new crutches, wobbled a bit ungracefully as he tried to reset them to a more comfortable position. "Isn't that what got us into this situation in the first place?"
Most of the room glanced at Rowan. A few even dropped their heads guiltily.
"So… what's the move?" Mark Albertine finally asked.
"What the hell do you think is the move?" Murphy spoke up. "We're going to go get James's sister."
"No," James interjected loudly. "I'm going to get my sister."
"James," Brynne grabbed hold of his wrists. "I'll go with you."
James shook his head. "Brynne—"
"This is my fault," she replied. "I said I'd protect her until things went back to normal and I didn't. Please – let me make this right."
James swallowed hard. "Brynne, I'm not going to go find whoever's got my sister and ask them nicely to give her back. We've gone past that now. Someone's going to get hurt. Maybe them. Maybe me. Probably a bit of both."
"I know," she said. "I'm not afraid."
"I am," James said, and he heard his voice shake. Brynne must have heard it, too, because her expression changed.
"James, please—"
"You're – too – important," James interrupted, looking her right in the eyes. "Not just to me. To them, too."
Brynne's eyes told the story – she was going to relent, but she wasn't going to like it.
"You'll come back, right?"
Somehow – maybe because of their conversation before (which he wasn't likely to forget any time soon) – James understood that she wasn't asking whether he would return physically unharmed. Although, for what it was worth, if she had been asking that, it would have been perfectly understandable…
"Just don't wander too far," she said.
He tore his eyes away from her. If he lingered too long, he might never leave. He looked down at his shoes as he made his way through the small throng. He felt the heat of their eyes on him, even as he passed them and made his way to the door. His footsteps seemed oddly out of rhythm.
Those weren't his footsteps.
He whirled around to find someone unexpected.
"Mal…" James muttered. Then he changed his mind. "Scorpius?"
Scorpius Malfoy's mouth twitched.
"You're planning on raising hell throughout Hogwarts Castle and showing anyone who stands between you and Lily unimaginable pain," Scorpius said, by way of a question that wasn't really a question.
James's nostrils flared. "That's about the long and short of it. You planning on trying to stop me? Telling me I shouldn't do it?"
"Not exactly," Scorpius replied.
Then his gray eyes assumed a familiar, hard stare.
Albus
"Hostages? Really?"
"I hear they're holed up in the castle somewhere – somewhere not even the professors can reach them."
"Scorpius Malfoy, I could see – but Rowan Lester? That's just hard to believe. He always seemed like such a sweetheart."
"Cute, too."
"Well, sure, I guess… but now with this…"
It was taking everything within Albus Potter not to walk over to his two witch classmates and tell them both to shut the hell up already. He knew, though, as most knew, it would do no good. Those two loved their gossip. Besides – gossip typically had the smallest element of truth to it. And if one had the patience to listen, and could find a way to sort through the sensationalism, one could actually find himself learning something.
He stood up from his seat suddenly. Nina Edgerton and Liz O'Connell both stopped their whispering a few feet away to stare at him. He ignored their gazes and made his way over to one of the tables in the common room, where Sylvia was poring over some sort of parchment with what appeared to be a great degree of difficulty. She bit her lip. Albus felt his stomach roil within him oddly, but not altogether unpleasantly. Then her eyes found his a few paces away.
"Why do we have to take History of Magic?" she asked. "I don't think I've learned a damn thing useful in three years."
Albus knew she was trying to make him laugh. And he appreciated the effort. Really. He did. It was just… well, two of his siblings were unaccounted for and at least one was said to be in awful trouble, so he wasn't really in the mood.
If Sylvia didn't read all this on his face, she read something close to it. Her own visage fell.
"I'm sure James is alright," she said, not sounding sure at all. "You know Temple – he's full of—"
"I wish I could believe you," interrupted Albus, hoisting himself up into the other free chair and letting his legs dangle. "It's just… well, it's James. Even if he doesn't find trouble, trouble has a way of finding him. And on top of that…"
He trailed off.
"I'm worried about what might be happening to Lily," he admitted. "I mean… if the Slytherins ran across Godric's Guard and think they were set up, too…"
"Albus," Sylvia called suddenly.
"You don't think that's a problem?" Albus bit back, a touch more loudly than he'd meant to out of frustration.
"No, Albus, look," Sylvia grabbed his wrist and pointed vaguely toward the staircases that led to the dormitories. When Albus finally looked in that direction, his eyes immediately caught what – or who – had Sylvia's attention. Somewhat unkempt hair of auburn bounced against Rose's shoulders as she walked down the stairs, her arms clutched tightly around her chest, holding (as per usual) a book of some sort.
Seeing Rose outside of class nowadays was like catching sight of a unicorn, or a glimpse of the giant squid. And even when she emerged, she seldom, if ever, interacted. She always looked like she was regretting her decision to venture into the outside world, and would rather be holed up in her room with her books.
Needless to say, she and Albus didn't talk anymore. He didn't know if it had to do with Scorpius or not. He was scared to ask.
No, that's not right, the brutally honest part of him that he seldom ever allowed to be his spokesman, chimed in. You just don't want to deal with her right now. She annoys you.
Albus watched her sadly, knowing that nasty little honest voice at the back of his head was at least partially correct, and wondering when such a thing had started happening. Rose had been as close to him as either of his siblings, once. Perhaps closer. As small children, they did nearly everything together. Then again, outside of their own family, neither had any other friends. Maybe it was just a consequence of growing up, of having other people around…
"She doesn't really sleep," Sylvia commented out of nowhere; and, indeed, as she approached closer, Albus got a good look at her face. To be very blunt, she looked like hell. She was paler than usual – almost ghostly. Even her hair seemed to have lost a bit of color.
She stopped and turned toward Albus. Recognition crossed her face, but alarmingly slowly.
"Where's Hugo?" she asked, in a drained-sounding voice.
Albus was stuck. A brief pang of panic struck him as he realized he actually had no idea. Albus thought for a second it might have been fortunate when a commotion toward the portrait hole caught his and Rose's attention. That is, until he saw who it was.
"You're unbelievable!" a boy that Albus vaguely recognized as one of the Gryffindor Quidditch players (the name, however, escaped him) shouted, storming into the common room from the portrait hole.
"I'm not making a decision until this plays out and we hear everyone's side of the story," Freddy followed him. It was immediately obvious that he and this other lad had been at this discussion for a while, and Freddy was just barely holding his patience. "In fact, I'm not even in the mood to talk about this. My cousin has gone missing."
"Yeah, well, Malfoy's not your cousin," the boy retorted. "What are you gonna do about him? You told him before not to get involved and he ignored your warning. Not to mention that stunt he pulled yesterday—"
"Let's not forget – you're the one who got yourself eject—"
"We still would've lost – because Malfoy didn't do his job," Rodney interrupted Freddy.
"If you can do so much better, why haven't you played Seeker in three years on this team?" Freddy asked. "No, it's easier to criticize everybody else, isn't it? We all could've done things better – and that includes you staying on the pitch."
"I made things easier on you lot and you know it," Rodney answered. "Craig's their most dangerous player – you're just as likely as not to wind up in the hospital wing with him on the pitch."
"You know as well as I do that wasn't what it was about," Freddy said. "You lost your cool."
"I'd like to see you get Cobbed over the head for twenty minutes and no one's bloody calling it," snapped Rodney. "See if you can keep your cool. We've got eleven people on the roster and you're all acting like I cost us the match."
"I never said that," Freddy countered, frustrated.
Rodney folded his arms. "You should've just let me put one across Craig's skull and be done with it."
And he separated from Freddy, past Albus and the others, bizarrely muttering something about "snogging the Head Girl." Meanwhile, Freddy stood in place, kneading his forehead with his knuckles as if trying to massage away a massive headache.
Meanwhile, a Prefect was walking over to where Freddy was standing.
"Weasley—"
"What?" Freddy snapped on him. "What do you want?"
"Hey – easy," the Prefect replied. "I'm just trying to find out if you know anything about what happened with Potter and Malfoy."
Freddy rolled his eyes. Clearly he'd been asked this question before and was tired of having to answer it. "Dammit, Bourne, I'm a Quidditch captain, not a bloody babysitter. I don't keep track of where my whole club is when we're not playing or practicing. I thought that was your job."
Bourne frowned. "Come on. Don't be difficult. I'm asking you because you were one of the last people to know where either of them went."
"Yeah – yesterday," Freddy retorted. "I don't know if I've seen either of them since yesterday."
"And that's what I told Temple," Bourne explained reluctantly. "He doesn't like to listen."
"And where is he?" Freddy asked.
"Going to find Professor Wenster, I'd imagine," answered Bourne.
Freddy sighed through his nostrils. "You and Tommy should try actually standing up to Temple every now and again—"
"You honestly think Temple scares me?" Bourne asked. "If Longbottom was here Temple would've been stripped weeks ago. But he's Wenster's favorite and Wenster's friends with the Headmaster. Which, long story short, means Temple's got every other Gryffindor Prefect by the…" He stopped himself, noticing Dominique approaching the conversation. "…Well, Temple's Wenster's errand boy. We've got to do what he says – or, bye-bye, badges. And you'd better toe the line, too, or Wenster'll have that Captaincy from you faster than blinking."
"Are you threatening me?" Freddy asked, a warning tone in his voice.
"No – I'm just being honest," Bourne replied, sounding uncomfortable. "We're all in the same boat. And I hate to say it, but… the club's going to be in trouble if the rumors are true."
"Can we slow down for a damn second?" asked Freddy. "I've been out with—" He stopped, with the tense air of someone who had come close to revealing too much. "I've been… out. Not in the castle. I don't even know what the rumors are."
"Well…" Bourne sighed.
Finally, Dominique chimed into the conversation. "The way Bourne puts it… he and… that lot – they ran across some Slytherins on the seventh floor and a duel started… a couple of Gryffindors got hurt pretty badly."
"So what's that got to do with James or Malfoy?" Freddy queried.
"Well, apparently, Malfoy… turned on them or something and he and James were helping Slytherin?" Bourne recounted as if unsure of the story himself. "That's what it sounds like."
"You mean, that's what Temple made it sound like," Freddy corrected Bourne, who reluctantly nodded. "So now – long story short – nobody can find James or Malfoy."
Dominique shook her head.
"Disappeared," Bourne added, shrugging his shoulders. "But Wenster's got people searching the grounds. I'm hearing he's going to ask for the worst when he finds them."
Freddy's jaw unhinged and a bit of color left his face. "Wh… you mean he's gonna call the Panel? He's gonna try to have them both expelled from Hogwarts?"
"I don't know if he can bring that off," Bourne said in what he probably thought was a reassuring tone. "We haven't actually expelled anybody in seventy-five years – so there's that. But on the other hand… Potter's been kind of on Wenster's bad side for a while. Wenster really wanted him for the Guard and he turned them down flat. And then Malfoy… well, you probably know about that better than I do."
Freddy tilted his head. "No… not really."
Bourne sighed patiently. "C'mon. Be serious. You know what the story is there. And, for what it's worth, Flitwick could get back in the good graces of the Board and a lot of parents if…"
"If he offered Malfoy up as a sacrificial lamb?" Freddy cut Bourne off. Then, shaking his head, he said, "Flitwick wouldn't do that."
"I wouldn't have thought Flitwick would do a lot of things he's done lately," Bourne remarked, a bit of sadness in his voice.
At that moment, the common door swung open, somehow rather more forcefully than what was normal. This got the attention of a lot of students, and the few that didn't look up immediately started to when the room began buzzing with chatter. Albus, though, saw the whole thing. Through the door stepped Professor Lucan Wenster, garbed in robes of blood red trimmed with black, his bald head covered by a matching hat of a square-ish shape. A couple of Gryffindors that Albus recognized as being part of Godric's Guard followed very closely.
"Gryffindors," Wenster said. His voice was so sonorous in the silence that Albus thought for a moment he might have used some sort of spell. "I am here with an announcement that demands each and every single one of your attention."
This request for attention was thoroughly unnecessary – unlike Neville, who was prone to popping in occasionally to check up on things and interact with his students, Wenster didn't simply visit Gryffindor Tower for anything less than something very important.
"When each of you was Sorted," Wenster went on. "I'm sure you were told, among other things, that Hogwarts was your home, and that your House was your family. I won't presume to know what your home lives are like when you are not within these walls, so I can't assume everyone understands the gravity of those words. Any friends or associates can collaborate, or cooperate. But that doesn't make them a family. What that means… what family means… is that you protect your own at all costs. What family means, is that the interest of the whole becomes as important, if not more important, than the interest of the one. What family means… is that if someone from without threatens the family, they are an enemy that must be dealt with. And if… if the threat to the family comes from somewhere within… they are a traitor that also must be dealt with. And it is to that end, in the interest of defending the Gryffindor family as the Head of this House…"
"Acting Head," Albus muttered very quietly to himself, feeling a pang of annoyance. And a rubbish one at that, he added mentally, not daring to say that part aloud.
"…That I had the unfortunate duty of dealing with a threat from within. A young man Sorted into this House made the decision to threaten the safety and, one could easily argue, the very lives, of some of our brightest members. He met in secret with known enemies to our family and it was likely there that he began to imagine ways to betray us. Well… I am pleased to tell you that this person has been caught. He is being taken to the Headmaster along with his Slytherin accomplice, and if justice still counts for anything here, he will be dealt with as he deserves. His name will not save him from being punished appropriately for his transgression. What I mean to say is… he will no longer be a member of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Albus's heart jumped into his throat. He heard Sylvia swear somewhere behind him. It's James, he thought, feeling his stomach lurch sickeningly. It's got to be James.
"Remember this name as the first of several examples, should any of you have the thought of doing something similarly dishonorable," Wenster announced. "This young man's name….. is Hugo Weasley."
The next instant stretched out over what felt like several minutes. An inhuman scream came from somewhere near him, and it was only instinct that allowed Albus to locate the source of the scream and react before something truly awful happened.
And something truly awful would have happened, because Rose had thrown her book to the ground, pulled her wand, and started to make a beeline straight for Wenster and the two Godric's Guard members flanking him, both of whom looked to be on the older side.
Thankfully, before any of that happened, Albus had managed to grab hold of her, and pried her wand from her grip in the struggle. She resisted – elbowed him in the ribs, even – but he refused to let go.
"Come on, Rose, calm down," Sylvia said, having stepped in front of her. "You're not seriously going to attack a professor."
"They've got Hugo!" Rose cried, understandably beyond reason at this point. "They've – got – geroff—"
Albus felt the wind driven from his body again. But Wenster, who Albus wasn't sure had even known or acknowledged that one of his own students may have tried to come after him, was already turning back and headed through the portrait hole. Eventually, Rose's snarling and shouting lost its coherence, and she collapsed into a heap, crying uncontrollably. Albus only then noticed how many eyes were turning in their direction now that Wenster was gone. He met none of them, trying not to concentrate on what felt like a bright, hot spotlight being shone upon him.
But that's life as a Potter, the nasty voice in his head said. You should be used to it by now.
I'm not. I'll never be.
Sylvia knelt to comfort Rose, but seemed to realize a few seconds in that there was nothing she could do for her at the moment.
Something in the words Wenster had left behind stood out to Albus – a small detail he hadn't quite focused on enough the first time. But now that it was replaying in his head…
He vaguely saw Sylvia reach for him, but then hesitate, as if she somehow knew it wasn't a good idea at the time.
"There's only one person from Slytherin that Hugo would've been visiting," Albus said blankly. At least, he thought he said. He felt his mouth forming the words, heard them being spoken, but they didn't sound like they were issuing forth from his own throat. It was as if he was moving his mouth in sync with someone else speaking the words very far away.
"I don't understand," Rose finally sobbed in a small voice. "Why are they blaming this all on Hugo?"
"Why? Because Wenster's a power-hungry old codger – that's why," Sylvia answered. She glimpsed Albus before saying, "Don't look at me like that. You know it's true."
Albus wasn't giving Sylvia any sort of look – at least, not that he knew of. Maybe, he thought, that was just his face now.
"Sylvia," he heard himself call. It sounded eerily like a command, and judging by Sylvia's expression, she must have thought the same thing. He tore his eyes away from her. He couldn't afford to lose his nerve. "Take Rose back up to your room and make sure she stays."
"Don't touch me," Rose warned forebodingly, before Sylvia could even get close to her. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet. Without so much as a look at Albus, she started toward the exit of the common room.
"Hey!" a shout went up from somewhere near the portrait hole. "We can't let anyone outside the tower! Wenster's orders!"
Rose was not listening, still walking toward the door. Albus started to follow. "Move," Rose said, an alarming lack of inflection in her voice.
"Bourne—" another boy's voice warned.
"Stand down, Weasley," Bourne ordered again, raising his voice this time.
"Bourne—"
"Move," Rose repeated.
"Rose—" Albus called, breaking into a run.
"Stand – down," Bourne said a third time, now snapping each word and trying to sound intimidating.
"Move," Rose also said a third time. By now, she was five paces away from Bourne, who was just now leveling his wand.
"I'll use force if I have to!" warned Bourne. Rose, to Albus's great panic, kept walking, until Bourne's leveled wand was practically poking her between the eyes.
Things went eerily quiet, and Rose stood there, not moving her head from in front of Bourne's wand, which was prodding the bridge of her nose. Bourne likewise stood there, not moving the wand from the bridge of her nose.
Once again, Rose said one word: "Move."
Bourne cringed.
"C'mon, mate. She's fourteen. Don't do anything mad," Freddy's voice said.
Rose's eyes darted toward Freddy, as if somewhat insulted that he would have brought up her age. Albus was just within reach of her, but then someone cut in front of him.
"Come on, Rosie. Calm down. Come on. You can't… come on, stop it…"
Albus's early memories of Roxanne were rather fragmented, he mused as he watched his older cousin slowly pull the wand from Rose's pocket. The two weren't quite as close as he was to Rose and Hugo. But Rose and Hugo were perhaps nearly as close to Roxanne as they were to him. They grew up in and around the shop, and saw each other often. But just like with everyone else, it seemed, Rose had distanced herself somewhat from Roxanne as the two grew older.
"Thanks," Bourne sounded extremely relieved, watching Roxanne pull Rose back from him.
"You understand why she's upset, right?" Roxanne asked calmly. "They've got her brother."
Bourne sighed. "I know. But I can't let anyone leave."
"Trust me, I get it. You've got responsibilities," Roxanne replied. "Same here."
Bourne nodded. "Sorry."
"Me, too," Roxanne agreed. Then her grip on Rose's wand stiffened suddenly. "Stupefy!"
There was a red flash of light, and Kenneth Bourne crumpled in a heap against the Common Room's exit. Several people jumped – including Freddy.
Freddy said a word Albus had once seen James smacked over the head for letting slip in front of their mother, his hands firmly gripping his hair in panic. "What did you do?!"
"I Stunned him. Obviously," deadpanned Roxanne. Then she glanced at Dominique. Albus did too, and Dominique might as well have turned into a ghost with how pale she now was. "I Stunned him. Not Rosie, not Freddy. Me. I did it. That's the story you'll tell whoever because it's the truth."
Dominique was completely stuck for a moment. "God… Roxanne, you… you just hexed a Prefect."
"You'll have to report it to the Head of House, right?" asked Roxanne, as if thoroughly unbothered by this fact. "Don't waste your energy. I'm about to go find the bastard myself." Then she raised her voice. "And if any of you are stupid to try to follow me, Pomfrey'll have to put you back together like a bloody jigsaw. Got it?"
She let go of Rose, almost shoving her through the portrait hole (not that Rose needed the push) before exiting herself. Albus waited for a second and then, only about ninety-five percent sure his arse was not going to get kicked, followed.
James
James peered around the corner of a hallway, wishing he could make use of what was in his pocket. Not for the first time, thinking about the Map started a mental argument with himself.
It'll probably tell you where Lily is.
Probably, but I can't use it in front of him.
Why's that – because he's a Malfoy?
He's unpredictable. I don't really know him that well. Hell, I don't even know why he's here.
Why don't you ask him?
Because he's not bloody likely to give me a straight answer – that's why.
Why not – because he's a Malfoy?
Sod off. It's his personality. He doesn't let anyone into what he's thinking half the time. You know that. I mean – I know that.
Lead with another question, then. Maybe he'll give you a straight answer to that one.
"Did you recognize the handwriting on that letter?" James asked.
"No idea," replied Scorpius. James paused for a moment – then jumped out from behind his corner.
"Lumos Duo," he incanted, holding his wand aloft. Brilliant light shone from the tip of his wand for a moment before zooming off into the distance in the form of a tiny ball. The flames on the wall lit two by two, obviously mistaking the light's warmth and motion for some sort of human presence. But the light also revealed that James and Scorpius were the only two in the area. "All clear," he said, and Scorpius emerged from behind the wall to follow him.
"That's odd… I mean, how empty it is," Scorpius explained quickly. "Not even any portraits or anything. Does nobody use this hallway at all?"
James peered around himself and noticed that the hallway was indeed all but deserted. It was eerie.
"Hope a ghost doesn't pop out at us," Scorpius muttered.
"You scared of ghosts?" James asked.
"Of course not," Scorpius answered. "There's just no good way to prepare for one coming straight through a wall."
They slowed their pace, although inwardly James thought they should have been traversing this stretch of abandoned hallway a bit faster.
"Why did you join Godric's Guard, anyway?" asked James. "You never explained."
James was almost completely convinced Scorpius would tell him to mind his business or, if he was feeling particularly diplomatic, pretend not to have heard the question. So it was surprising indeed when Scorpius answered. "Lena. I thought I could keep Temple and the others away from her."
"But it didn't work," James remarked for some reason.
"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Scorpius answered bitterly. "I failed."
"Not really," James answered. "It's just… people do their own thing. It's hard to protect people if you can't control them… tell them where not to go, who to stay away from... if you can't predict what they're going to do, then—"
"Then nobody can protect anybody," Scorpius finished.
James stopped walking. "…We just do the best we can."
"…Right," Scorpius murmured. "…Where do you think they…"
"I couldn't even begin to tell you," James answered. "First off, I don't even know who 'they' are. It could be either side, somebody else."
"Somebody else?" Scorpius repeated, now sounding a bit alarmed. "Well… who 'else' is there?"
"Malfoy!"
James heard a voice behind him and whipped around to see a flash of robes, diving sideways, parallel to the ground. A red jet of light was coming toward him.
"Verdi—"
James didn't get to finish the incantation. A sudden impact lifted him off his feet and knocked him to the ground. No sooner than he had hit his back than he heard Scorpius's voice:
"Serpensortia!"
The din of violence went quiet for a moment, replaced by an ominous hissing noise. In the blurry, dimly lit hallway, James could just make out something long and wiry, undulating back and forth on the ground.
"Oh, god! What the hell—" somebody shouted out. The voice sounded feminine.
"Ugh. Move," a more familiar voice groaned, sounding annoyed. "Vipera Evanesca!"
There was a flash of light and another hiss. James scrambled back to his feet.
"Immobulus!"
James felt a strange sensation, like the very air around him had tightened like a vice around his skin and robes. He tried to take a step and found he could not.
"Where'd you and your people take Lily Potter?!" the familiar voice snarled. James recognized it this second time, and a hot anger boiled inside of him. Unfortunately, the very air seemed to be fighting him. He couldn't even blink. His eyes felt like cracked earth, then like fire and water, the cold, dry castle air and the dust therein assaulting them without respite.
"Bletchley, you idiot," snapped Scorpius. "We don't have time for—"
"Shut up!" Bletchley barked, positively spitting. "Don't play stupid with me, Malfoy, I know you've got her!"
"What the hell do you care, anyway?" Scorpius asked. "She's not your concern."
"She's a Slytherin," the female voice said. "All Slytherins are our concern. Even the ones that like to wander off on occasion."
"Don't you see who this is behind me? You think I'd be standing here if I'd dragged off his sister?" Scorpius replied.
The girl gasped. "Sod!" she swore. "That's James Potter! Bletchley, why didn't you tell me that was James Potter before I hexed him?"
"What?" uttered Bletchley rather artificially. "Lumos! ….Ah. Damn. That is James Potter. How about that? Kinda dark in here."
If James had been able to move his mouth, it would have been forming words best left unquoted.
"So, then – Malfoy – where's the rest of your goons? I know that little berk Vaisey's hiding around here somewhere…"
"There's no goons – no Guard," Scorpius replied icily. "Just us – and we're trying to find Lily, same as you are."
"She's in our house," Bletchley answered. "So that's our job, thanks."
"And here you are, on the arse end of the castle, pointing your wands at two blokes that could be helping you out," Scorpius answered. "…Nice job you're doing."
"Oh, piss off," Bletchley scoffed in annoyance. Then he leveled his wand. James felt the invisible clutches loosening their hold on him. "You know what? This never would've happened if Temple and you idiots hadn't come up to the seventh floor, trying to ambush us. I'm done trying to negotiate with you."
On that last part, James thought, they finally agreed about something. He jumped to the left, trying to get a clearer shot around Scorpius's head—
He started an incantation, praying that it would work as intended – or that, if it didn't, whatever effect it had would be equally uncomfortable for its target. "Brachium—"
There was a brief flash of light behind the young lady that Phillip Bletchley had brought with him. In the next instant, that young lady had crumpled to the floor, face-first, her body stiff as a board.
"Pucey!" Bletchley shouted, startled, as his eyes found his fallen companion. "What the f—"
A lit wand forced itself up underneath Bletchley's chin, backed him to the wall, and brought him to silence.
"It's not your lucky day, mate." The voice was feminine, but not girlish. James thought he might have recognized it, but he didn't know where from—
At least, not until she stepped from the shadows.