Chapter 16: The Fury

She had never been to the Headmaster's office before – not that such a thing was a major accomplishment. She counted backwards in her head. The first of September had fallen on a Sunday that year. Today was Sunday as well. So, exactly… ten weeks? No, eleven. There had been five Sundays in September so… eleven.

Eleven weeks. And, in all likelihood, she was going home.

She had looked forward to this for the better part of eleven years, and now, in eleven weeks, it was all over.

How does it work, exactly? She began asking herself, the pit in her stomach growing deeper by the moment. Goosebumps were erupting on her flesh. (Then again, that may have had nothing to do with her fear. It was freezing in here.) Will Mum or Dad have to come to Hogwarts to get me? Are they going to send the train back to London with just me? Do I get to keep my wand?

Her throat tightened. No, she thought desperately. I can't let anybody see me cry. Besides, this is all rubbish. They don't even want me. Not really.

She tried to calm herself. But then an image flashed across her mind's eye.

That boy…

She felt her lip quiver. A scrawny, bespectacled lad with dark hair had tried to come to her aid. But it was three on one. He took a curse to the face and the last she had seen of him, he was lying down on the ground, unconscious, bleeding from the nose and mouth, the frames of his glasses snapped in half. He was a Slytherin, she knew that much. Who had told him to try to protect her? The ones that came for her were older and bigger than he was. He had to have known he couldn't win, but he did it anyway…

She blinked back the wetness encroaching on her eyelids, almost defiantly, and tried to focus on something – anything – else.

Her eyes settled on an old, golden-framed portrait of a very old man reclining in an ornate chair. His hair, situated underneath a hat that lay jauntily atop his head, was silvery and long. His beard, on the other hand, seemed almost impossibly long; it was at least down to his waist, which was saying quite a bit because the man – as far as Lily could tell – was quite tall.

Then, as she studied his sleeping face, two very particular and telltale details stood out. He had a long nose that appeared to change direction on his face more times than should have been allowable. Above this nose, slightly askew because of their position, sat a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Lily had never been in one of the headteachers' offices before, so she'd never seen a proper portrait this close. Still, though, she knew by appearance who this man was.

"…Professor Dumbledore?" she uttered, almost at a whisper.

She, of course, had grown up in wizard society all of her life. Still, when a picture actually moved it always started her just a bit. Especially with this one – Dumbledore's eyes had opened, twinkling, iridescent blue, and with a strange, unsettling quality that made Lily uncomfortable. It felt like Dumbledore was seeing through everything; not perversely, in a way that made her feel uncovered. No, it didn't feel like he was staring through her robes to the skin. It felt like he was staring through the skin, too; and through the bones and the innards and the heart, to something immaterial. It felt like her very thoughts, her deepest, darkest secrets were laid bare.

Like the fact that, as much as she loved her pet cat, Fiamma… now that she was at school and quite busy, she would've preferred an owl now. And, of course, she could never tell her parents that, because then they would be disappointed or angry.

Or the fact that she had sort of wanted to try her hand at Quidditch, but hadn't worked up the nerve to ask for a broom that year.

Or the fact that she was secretly a little bit jealous of her friend, Parveen Rama. Parveen was taller than her, and prettier. Of course, Mum was beautiful, and everyone told Lily she looked just like Mum had as a young girl. So maybe she'd grow up to be strong and beautiful, too. But what if she didn't…?

"You look oddly familiar," Dumbledore said, his tone soft and reassuring. Somehow, this didn't make Lily more comfortable, because she was now wondering if he knew how uncomfortable he was making her. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," Lily answered, trying consciously to steady her voice when she realized that it was trembling a bit. "You know my father, though. My name's Lily Potter."

Dumbledore paused. "He named you after her. I can't say I'm surprised. I remember your grandmother. You do look a bit like her. But not exactly. Remind me again who your mother is?"

"Ginny," Lily said. Then, realizing that a man Dumbledore's age might have been acquainted with and taught half a dozen girls named Ginny, she decided to specify, "Ginny Weasley."

After a half-second, Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Ah. That's it. Yes, Ginny Weasley. You favor your mother very, very much."

"I've been told," Lily answered.

"I've seen your older brother once or twice," Dumbledore commented.

"Which one?" Lily asked. "I have two. Was it James? Or Albus?"

"James, I believe—" Dumbledore started; then it appeared to hit him and he paused. "Wait… did you say 'Albus'?"

"Yes. He's the middle brother," Lily asked. "Dad named him after you."

Dumbledore blinked. "Now," he said, now very obviously emotional. "Why would he go and do something like that?"

"He respected you a lot, I guess," Lily said.

"Albus Potter…" Dumbledore murmured.

"Albus Severus Potter," Lily replied. "His middle name's after Professor Snape. He was a hero for my house."

"Your house?" asked Dumbledore. "So… you're a Slytherin. Interesting." He stroked his beard.

"Interesting?" queried Lily. "What does that mean?"

"I remember, once upon a time, that the Sorting Hat thought very hard about putting your father in Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "So, you went willingly?"

"Not really," Lily admitted, figuring Dumbledore knew already. "But I've learned to be alright with it. I just wish I could see my brothers more. They're both in Gryffindor."

"Can you not?" asked Dumbledore.

"No," Lily answered.

"Professor Wenster's doing, I assume?" Dumbledore remarked, frowning. "I always…"

He never got to finish his sentence. His image in the frame faded quickly, and was replaced by a void of such a deep, dark black that its presence seemed to suck the light out of half the room.

Lily heard a footfall, whirled around, and there stood Lucan Wenster, hat sat above his bald head, wearing his robes of blood.

"Professor Dumbledore and I had… a complicated relationship," Wenster said, approaching. "He was my Transfiguration professor, years upon years back. As Head of Gryffindor House, he elevated me to Prefect. And if there was one thing we agreed on, it was that Tom Riddle and the gang of young men that counted themselves as his friends were not to be trusted completely. But that was where our paths diverged. I recommended an investigation into Tom Riddle after a certain incident happened here. But by that time, I'd been calling for an investigation into Riddle and his cohorts for over a year. Not only did no one listen to me, but my ambition to be Head Boy suddenly hit a brick wall. They gave some contrived excuse about having the wrong temperament – but I know better. I spoke out against their 'golden boy'… they couldn't have that."

Lily listened, too afraid to respond.

"Over time, I got used to not being anyone's favorite," Wenster went on coldly. Just then, Lily caught sight of a portrait she hadn't noticed, at the other side of the room. This one, unlike Dumbledore's, which had been slightly dusty, appeared to have been cared for well – almost meticulously. Inside it was, seated in a chair, a stunningly beautiful woman. She had golden hair – not simply blonde, but a shimmering shade of blonde that looked like the tresses had been spun from gold itself. They fell in loose curls and ringlets, covering her shoulders where her strapless gown did not. "Girl," Wenster called, his voice suddenly harsh. Lily jumped. "Look at me."

It was an unusually visceral reaction from a man that, from what Lily had seen, was typically icy and stoic.

"That's what's gotten your brother in such trouble – he's always poking into places where he shouldn't. I can only fault him so much, I suppose," Wenster said. "I never got to teach your father, but word was he was exactly the same way…"

A whirring sound distracted Wenster from his train of thought. He turned and gazed toward what Lily knew was the lift that led up to this room.

Looking like someone that had just run quite a distance, an older boy emerged into the office, talking as he came. "Professor, we've got a major—"

The lad saw Lily, and pulled up short.

"What?!" he exclaimed.

"Calm yourself, Pike. You see? They didn't hurt her," the older man explained. Lily glared at the man, thinking of Karyn and of the older Slytherin boy whose name escaped her at the moment – but she was much too afraid to speak.

Pike's face twitched. "With all due respect, Professor Wenster, that's not the point. This feels…"

"The very safety of our House – our entire school – is at stake," Wenster hissed, leaving Lily's side (much to her relief) to stride toward Pike. "If you don't feel like that's worth making one or two students out of several hundred a bit uncomfortable, then perhaps you haven't got the stomach for this."

Pike sighed. "She's a little girl, Professor. Not even the same age as my sister."

Lily didn't appreciate being called a 'little girl' – after all, she was almost twelve already – but she wasn't about to interrupt this conversation if this Pike fellow was trying in any way to stick up for her.

"We tried our best to do it peacefully," Wenster said.

"Peacefully." Pike shook his head. "You're not going to like what I'm about to say to you, sir…"

"Then you'd be better off not saying it," Wenster replied curtly.

"You're probably right – but you and the others might be worse off if I don't," Pike answered. "The incident several weeks ago with MacMillan..."

He paused meaningfully. Wenster (at least from what Lily could tell from this distance) raised his eyebrows. "That's supposed to be news? I figured that from the beginning."

"When I heard somebody hexed Corrie, I lost it. I went after the first Slytherin I could get my hands on. He said he hadn't done it. I still hung him from the ramparts of the castle to send a message. If he had been the one that did it…"

Pike trailed off again.

"What are you saying?" asked Wenster.

"I'm saying – what if Potter comes out from wherever he's holed up and finds out someone's got his sister hostage? What do you think he's going to do to anybody that gets in his way?" Pike sounded a bit panicked now. "And let alone the rest of his family? He's got – what – four or five cousins that go here as well. And if her father gets wind of this, well, then, God have mercy on our—"

"No one can enter the Hogwarts grounds legally save with the Headmaster's permission – least of all ranked Ministry officials. I'm sure you're familiar with the Non-Interference Act," Wenster explained calmly, talking over him. "So we have nothing to worry about on that last front."

He whirled around and, alarmingly, began striding in her direction. He loomed over her, and Lily, who had never seen him this close, only then realized how tall he was.

"No one harmed you, correct?" he asked brusquely, almost as if he cared much less about her actual well-being than he did about the possible consequences of her being less than well.

"They beat down a boy from my House and hexed one of my classmates," Lily answered, not meeting his eyes. Because his eyes were intimidating.

"Regrettable," Wenster replied in the same cold, uncaring tone. Lily heard the unspoken part of the statement – He shouldn't have gotten in the way. "But it's as I said… she's untouched."

"We have her here against her will," Pike said. "That's going to be reason enough. If this is the move, we need to pull everyone back here so no one's off on their own."

"You overestimate that boy's power," Wenster answered. "His marks in Transfiguration are fair – not great."

"He's also the best duelist in his year. And he's got a best mate that's a fairly close second. He's a Potter."

"He's a fourteen-year-old boy with delusions of grandeur," replied Wenster dismissively. "He thinks his name means he can flout law and order. I'll give you that he has a bit of talent and a strong bloodline. That said… I've forgotten ten times as much magic as he's ever learned. I think I can handle him."

"I don't doubt you can, sir," Pike said. "But can the others?"

"You worry too much," Wenster said. "Besides, Mr. Temple and Mr. Vaisey should be along soon with our other… person of interest."

Lily's heart jumped into her throat.

"…Wish it could be his brother, but that would have caused too much of a scene," Wenster muttered. Pike heard him and made a face.

"Where's the Headmaster?" Pike asked.

"He'll be along, with the others," Wenster said. "We're in no rush. They can't do much for us until he shows himself."

He let out a sigh.

"It's my fault," he said solemnly. "I suppose I've grown a bit soft in my old age. I thought, maybe, the Potter boy might be something other than his father's son. Instead, he's Harry Potter all over again, minus any of the achievements or humility."

"You can't really blame him," Pike reasoned. "I guess if I was the son of two of the most famous wizard families in Britain…"

Pike turned his wrist.

"They're late," Wenster murmured, his mouth turned down with disapproval.

"Maybe they ran into… trouble?" Pike suggested.

"Against a first year? I'd hope not," Wenster replied vehemently.

Just then, the groaning of the lift that led up to this tower signaled the arrival of more guests. The first form she saw was bound and hunched…

THUMP. Something or someone struck it, and it teetered forward into the room, landing on its front.

Lily took a step closer, recognizing a cloud of brown curls as the figure struggled against its binds.

"HUGO!" she screamed, forgetting her surroundings as she broke into a run.

"Pesperdes!"

Something unseen caught the front of Lily's toes as she ran. One horrible second later, she had hit the ground face-first, her hands not quick enough to break her fall. Awful pain shot through her mouth as her teeth pierced the flesh on her lips. An awful burn and the taste of blood followed not long after. Then, a force on the neck of her robes.

"Now, now, Miss Potter – let's not do anything rash," Wenster's voice said from behind her. Through her blurred vision, she saw Hugo thrashing on the ground, unable to move for the knee that was being driven into his back. "Temple, enough."

"Stop – struggling!" Lily heard someone snarl.

"Oi!" Pike rushed over, grabbing the arm of Hugo's assailant and trying to wrest him away. "What the hell's wrong with you?! We're not supposed to hurt them!"

"Get out of it, Pike," came another voice, this one younger. Lily's eyes started to focus and she saw a boy, not as old as any of the other three lads, walk into view. "He's in a bad mood. We've already lost Audrey…"

" 'Lost' Audrey?" repeated Pike, a panic seizing his voice again. "What do you mean, we 'lost' her?"

"It's like I thought," the burliest of the boys, whom Pike was still trying to hold back, gestured wildly around Pike's head and in Lily's direction. "She decided she couldn't be a part of this anymore. She didn't have the stomach for it. Should've figured. Her heart's not in it. She's half-and-half as is…"

"Temple, enough!" Wenster shouted, and it made Lily's ears hurt. "We start looking down on wizards for their blood status, we're no better than the Slytherins!"

"I don't mean she's half-Muggle. I'm half-Muggle. Why would I say that?" Temple queried. "She's all wizard… half-American. She would've been at Ilvermorny or the Oasis, if her parents had stayed together… and her mother was a Ravenclaw, to boot. She doesn't have it in her like we do. Never did."

"Maybe because she got sick of seeing you kick around people that are smaller than you," Pike said. "Ever considered that?"

"Ever considered that the rest of us are getting tired of your attitude?" the somewhat smaller boy snapped.

"Vaisey, stop it. Pike, go and guard the entrance," Wenster instructed.

Pike turned around, "Sir—"

"Pike – I wasn't asking," Wenster cut him off. Lily saw Pike's nostrils flare – but he did as told. Once he had descended the lift and was out of sight, Lily felt Wenster let her go. A moment later, something hard hit the bends in her legs behind her knees, and she heard Wenster's voice command: "Sit."

Lily silently did nothing.

"Sit down," Vaisey snarled at her.

"Vaisey," Wenster warned once again. Lily wasn't sure she had ever seen true hatred in another person's eyes before. He was taller than she was, his head covered with short hair of a washed-out shade of blond. Those hateful, hazel eyes had a piercing quality to them, the black pupils in the middle seemingly a size smaller than they should have been. They gave him the look of someone liable to snap at a moment's notice. "Mr. Temple, remove the hex. Weasley won't be able to talk otherwise."

The larger lad named Temple pointed his wand down and at Hugo's face.

"What are you doing?!" Lily shouted.

"Keep talking and he'll do you next!" Vaisey barked.

"ENOUGH!" Wenster yelled. A brief flash of fear darted across Vaisey's face and he went silent. Temple muttered an incantation, and Hugo's mouth opened – or, rather, reappeared – unleashing a torrent of profanities and other imprecations.

"And when my mother finds out about this," he snarled, "she's going to have the whole lot of you bastards strung up by the—"

Temple well and truly lost his temper. "You're in front of our Head of House! Show some respect!"

Hugo stopped, shot a look of pure venom Temple's way, and then looked at Wenster. "Fine. You've got me. Let her go."

He had pointed in Lily's direction with his head, in case the others weren't smart enough to pick up his meaning.

"We can't do that," Wenster replied very simply. "We need something from both of you."

He looked from Lily to Hugo, and then back to Lily.

"What we need," he said, "is information."

James

"It's not your lucky day, mate."

James hated himself for it, but there was a pang of frustration when this new presence brought everything to a halt. The tiniest, nastiest, darkest part of him had wanted to tear Phillip Bletchley a new orifice. But he couldn't well sneak attack someone whose guard was already lowered. Besides, the shock had frozen him.

Bletchley's eyes quivered in something resembling fear – an understandable reaction to someone stepping out of the shadows and putting their wand to your throat unexpectedly. But such was his shock that even after his aggressor stood down, he remained frozen, his eyes trained on her, waiting for another move.

"Walk away," she advised. "It's three on one. You can't win. I don't want to have to hurt you, but I will."

Bletchley scowled at her.

"Lilith," Scorpius called. James did a double take, unaware the two knew each other well enough to be on a first-name basis. Sure enough, the girl turned to look at them. Something in her eyes changed a bit.

"Scorpius," she replied. The faintest trace of a smirk crossing her face, she asked. "Always where the trouble is, aren't you?"

"What are you doing here?" Scorpius queried.

"Just in the area," Lilith answered.

"You're lying," Scorpius uttered immediately. Lilith affected a pout.

"That hurts," she said, the tiniest bit of a simper to her voice. "I'm trying to be helpful and you're questioning my motives. I thought we understood each other."

Scorpius opened his mouth halfway to say something, but nothing came out. He swallowed. His eyes hardened. "Stay out of this."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Lilith queried grimly, pointing with her chin in the direction of the crumpled form on the ground.

Bletchley's nostrils flared. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but that girl you just attacked is Amarilys Pucey, and she's a Slytherin Prefect. Ambrose is going to hear about this."

"No, he's not," Lilith replied with an unsettlingly serene smile, twisting the wand underneath Bletchley's neck and causing him to squirm. "Because then he'd have to hear about you and your Prefect back-shooting Gryffindors in dark hallways when you're supposed to be protecting the dungeon. And I'm sure he wouldn't approve of that, now, would he, Mr. Big-Shot-Quidditch-Player?"

Bletchley grit his teeth.

"Thought not," Lilith said casually.

"We don't have time for this," James said.

Bletchley raised his wand. "You don't get to set the terms here, Potter—"

And something inside James snapped.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. Lilith had the wherewithal to duck out of the way, and Bletchley hadn't had the time to react. His wand went spinning out of his hand and bounced against the wall. Bletchley turned around, looking for it. James was not going to let that happen. "Incarcerous!"

The rope that shot forth from his wand wrapped around Bletchley's wand arm. He tried to pull away using brute force. But James had looped his own free hand around his end of the rope, was Bletchley's equal in strength, and did not allow him to get far.

"Let – me – go," Bletchley snarled.

Scorpius frowned. "Bletchley, seriously. If you want to find Lily so badly, we can—"

But James's patience had run out entirely.

"Scorpius, don't bother. He doesn't give a damn about Lily," he said coldly. Looking Bletchley in the eye, he asked, "You don't even give a damn about Brynne, do you? Not to where you'd try to understand her. No… getting Brynne to like you, getting to Lily first… it's all about proving you're better than me."

"You failed Brynne," Bletchley said, seething. "She hasn't been the same since—"

"You're useless, you know that?" James interrupted him, yanking on the rope and nearly bringing Bletchley to the ground. "I know I failed. I've spent six months lying awake at night thinking about how I failed. If you really wanted to help, you'd tell me something I don't know already. But you won't. Because you don't care about anyone but yourself. You'd put Lily and Brynne in harm's way if—"

"That's not…"

"I'm not stupid, Bletchley," James interrupted. "You expect me to believe it's an accident you can keep every Slytherin safe except for her?"

"You must be stupid," Bletchley said. "I wasn't there. But I guess it's easier to blame me than your own house, isn't it? I bet you think Wenster's some sort of hero."

"I know he's not," James answered.

"You don't know the half of it," Bletchley spat. "He's the one that's got your sister."

A moment of silence.

"What?!" snapped Scorpius. "When the hell were you going to mention that? We're on the wrong floor."

"I thought you knew everything," Bletchley said. "But maybe your dad told you to kiss his arse a bit? Get on his good side? There's no such thing. You of all people should know that."

"My parents told me he was part of the Hardliner faction after the war," Scorpius replied.

"That's all they told you about him?" Bletchley queried knowingly. "Because if it is, they didn't tell you everything. Maybe they weren't sure. But we are."

"What are you talking about?" James asked impatiently.

"There's a reason the Progenies formed, and it wasn't Godric's Guard," Bletchley said. "It was Wenster himself. If what we believe about him is true… there's no room for talking. Like I said, no negotiation."

Bletchley set his eyes on James.

"And I know what you're thinking. This doesn't go away when Longbottom comes back, either," he said, shaking his head. "This doesn't leave Hogwarts until Wenster himself does."

"Wenster's a piece of work, I get that," James said. "But this is an awful lot for a teacher you don't like. Why?"

Bletchley's face went still – even somber. It was a look James had never seen from him before. Then his eyes opened, and he fixed on James an intense glare.

"I can't stand you, Potter." He paused there, and an expression resembling relief washed over him, as if he'd been waiting to speak those words for years. "I don't believe for a second you're better than me. I don't think you deserve Brynne any more than I do. But she chose you. She trusts you. She won't ever look at me like she does you. Never."

James hated to think he was happy to hear Bletchley admitting defeat. Because this had never been a game to James. She had never been a prize to be won.

And that was why he was, if not more worthy (Bletchley was right on that point), then slightly more capable.

Slightly.

"You better not prove her wrong," Bletchley said after a moment, shaking his head, talking through his teeth. "If you do anything to hurt her, I will ruin you. I'll throw every ounce of effort I've got into making your life a living hell. So, you take me seriously when I say it: what I'm about to tell you, Brynne – can't – find – out."

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just threaten me," James answered, nonetheless intrigued by Phillip's behavior. "What does this have to do with Brynne?"

Bletchley's eyes didn't blink.

"Her whole life. Everything."

James took the 'theory' with him, silently contemplating it and all its implications. Rage and a dash of fear battled within him – fear for himself mixed with fear of himself. It was only as they reached the fourth floor, where James knew Lucan Wenster's office was, that anyone spoke.

"So, do you think he was telling the truth?" James queried, suddenly aware of how much his voice was shaking.

"Which part?" Scorpius asked a bit cynically.

James began walking backwards to face Scorpius. "None of that sounded familiar to you?" Scorpius rolled his eyes bitterly. James frowned. "I mean… you'd know, right?"

"Only what my father told me. Which was only what my mum let him," Scorpius said, not meeting James's eye. "Enough to make sure I was aware. Not enough to scare me. They didn't say much of anything about… 'them.' We didn't deal much with them directly."

James turned his back on Scorpius again. "Right. Yeah. Forgot about that."

"Sorry…" Lilith's voice interjected. "Why is this such a big deal? Am I missing something here?"

Scorpius sighed. "The short version – Gryffindor House might be run by a…"

"…Psychopath murderer," James finished. His fists clenched, almost involuntarily.

"Well…" Scorpius uttered haltingly. "They caught them, right? I mean, your father did. The one that's left alive has been in Azkaban for—"

"That's not good enough!" James snapped, whirling around. "If he had anything to do with it, he's just as guilty. Maybe even more."

"Well, for what it's worth," Scorpius muttered. "I think he was talking a load of bollocks."

"But what if he wasn't?" James asked. Scorpius shook his head.

"You believe this guy now?" asked Scorpius. "After everything he's pulled—"

"I mean… it would explain a lot," Lilith remarked. "Like how something like this didn't happen until he became acting Head of Gryffindor House. Or why the Slytherins were so paranoid."

"Sounds like your view on humanity has brightened up a bit," Scorpius commented, with little to no irony.

Lilith scoffed. "I didn't say I trusted him. But then again, I don't have a special hatred for the bloke either. If the theory came from anyone else, would you even be questioning it? It makes too much sense."

Scorpius kept walking and James kept backpedaling. However, Lilith noticeably came to a stop. Or perhaps not so noticeably, as Scorpius had gone several strides before looking to his right for her, only to realize that she was no longer there.

"Changed your mind?" Scorpius asked.

Lilith grimaced. "Nothing personal. But I need to stay low. I did what I could, but I can't take the risk of storming a Professor's office, wands blazing. Not right now. You understand, right?"

She was directing the question toward Scorpius in particular, but he clearly wasn't buying. "I don't think I ever understand when it comes to you."

A joyless smile crossed the girl's face. "Well, maybe if we're not all dead or expelled by tomorrow morning, I can explain myself."

"You'd trust me with that?" Scorpius asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Lilith glanced at him for a long moment… then turned on her heel and walked away.

"She never even explained why she showed up to help us," James said.

"Might not matter in a bit," Scorpius commented. "Are we really going through with this?"

"I am," James answered resolutely. "You can still walk away if you want."

Scorpius shook his head. "No point, really. I'm sure it's gotten all around the Tower about how I sold out Gryffindor House."

"Temple's definitely made sure of that," a voice joined the conversation. James raised his wand immediately as a tall, exhausted-looking teenage boy wearing Gryffindor robes stepped into the light.

"Pike, step aside," James warned. "I'm not in the mood."

"I know you aren't," Pike said, patting in the air with a 'calm down' sort of motion. "But you can't be considering—"

"No, I'm done 'considering,'" James interrupted immediately, leveling his wand at Pike's chest. The tip began to glow with an ominous green light. "Move the hell out of the way."

Pike's face noticeably lost color.

"You… you're bluffing. You can't be serious."

James's own face was stone. "Stand there and find out how serious I am, then."

Pike shook his head. "You're going to end up in Azkaban – or worse."

James bit his lip. "Fair enough. So are they. And so are you, if you don't move."

Pike sighed. "I've done what I can. Guess you lot are just going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions."

And he walked toward James and Scorpius – then between James and Scorpius, then past James and Scorpius.

"Gryfanc," Pike said significantly. "That's the password. You'd think he would've picked something a bit less obvious, but there you have it."

"Gryfanc? How the hell is that obvious?" James queried impatiently, pocketing his wand.

"Because any Gryffindor history buff would've been able to figure that out," Pike replied. "You lads have fun."

He made to walk off, but Scorpius called after him. "And where are you going?"

"Somewhere that's not here," Pike answered adamantly. "I should've gotten away from this madness a long time ago."

And he trudged down the hallway and out of sight, leaving James and Scorpius, once again, alone.

"Some help that was," Scorpius grumbled. "He could've at least told us who was in the room. There's no way he didn't know."

"I figure it's Temple and Vaisey, at least," James replied. "Those two are the ones with their heads furthest up Wenster's arse."

"We're going to have problems if they're waiting for us," Scorpius pointed out. James had been trying very hard not to care about that part – although now that Scorpius was saying something, James had to concede that he had a point.

"There's no back door," mused James. "You have something else in mind?"

"I thought that would have been pretty obvious," Scorpius was suddenly very grave – and he stared aimlessly at a wall for several moments before finally speaking again. Then, he turned slowly, and leveled his wand at James. "I'm turning you in."

James almost had to smile. "Of course you are."

"Your father saved my father's life three times," Scorpius said slowly. "Three times. That's what got us here."

James grit his teeth, and reached for his back pocket again. His hand closed around his wand, then he brought it forward almost as quick as he could.

Scorpius, of course, was quicker: "EXPELLIARMUS!"

James had forgotten how uncomfortable being Disarmed was. It seldom ever happened to him; but when it did, it was like a hammer blow to the forearm. The hand went limp, and whatever it was holding went flying. He turned his head just a bit as the wand went sailing past it. When he faced Scorpius again, he was obscured behind an encroaching, blinding, red light as he shouted an incantation…

And then everything went black.