Author's Note: Happy Friday, ladies and gents!
Sorry for the long wait with this one. Typically, I could use Google Drive to sneak in a page here or there during work when things weren't super frenzied but lately, things have been super frenzied. And on top of that, I wasn't always getting to the library on Saturdays when I did have free time.
But all those little problems have been solved now, because as of a couple of weeks ago, I finally have my own laptop again. YAY! I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to negotiate data backup, but this is obviously going to go a long way toward helping me make sure you guys aren't waiting three whole months for chapters anymore.
With that said, I seldom ever arrive empty-handed, so enjoy!
Chapter 19: Those Who Carry The Sword
With a slight shiver, she braced against a chill evening wind. She looked around herself, trying to stay alert for the slightest sign of a threat. But through her trek down several floors of the castle and now across castle grounds, she found no one - threatening or otherwise.
"It's too quiet." Kadric Howell had his wand out, looking around himself. "This isn't normal."
"No," she replied. "None of it's normal."
They went a bit farther.
"So, do you think she's out here?" he asked.
"She could be here, back in the castle… anywhere, really," she answered. With a pained sigh, she grit her teeth. "You were right... we should've kept her with us."
"No, you were right. It was too dangerous," Howell replied.
"It clearly wasn't safer for her where she was," she answered. "God, how did I let this happen…?"
"You blame yourself too much," Howell said. "Just in general."
"You don't get it," she replied. "I promised him I'd keep her safe. I promised." She whirled around toward him, feeling the corners of her eyes burn. "If I don't have my word, then what the hell do I-"
She stopped mid-sentence, though, hearing a noise pierce the night air. Howell heard it too, as his expression changed.
"What was that?" he queried a bit breathlessly, whirling around with his lit wand aloft.
As if to answer his question, an ear-splitting, spine-tingling shriek rang across the grounds. It was almost bloodcurdling, and certainly made the fine red hairs on the back of her neck stand up. (And the wind, which seemed to be extra cold and extra violent tonight, wasn't helping.) It rang again, this time more desperately, and accompanied by a loud thump.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't sound safe," Howell commented through grit teeth, his face looking paler than usual in his wand's light (and that was saying quite a bit). With a badly disguised gulp, he added, "At all."
Brynne bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to bring Howell out here. That hadn't been her first choice. It was nothing against him, but she would have preferred someone who was a bit more difficult to rattle. That was not to say that Kadric Howell was a coward, because he wasn't. But this was a special brand of scary, and it was going to take a special type of bravery to face it head-on - the type of bravery that was typically forged in one that had seen worse. Much worse.
But Rowan was unavailable. Not because he was unwilling; but when they had crossed the threshold of the Come and Go Room together, she found herself in the seventh floor hallway without him. She called for him, but he could not or would not answer. Somehow, and at some point, he had disappeared.
The scream rang again.
"We have to go," Kadric Howell said, his voice trembling.
"Back to the castle?" Brynne inquired.
"No," Howell's voice replied, this time firmer but not yet steady. "Whoever it is, is in trouble. We have to go find them."
Howell, she reminded herself, was quite brave enough. Or at least, in the moment, he was trying his best to be, which would do. It would have to.
"Alright," Brynne agreed. "Stay behind me. I can cast a Shield Charm if anything comes at us-"
"No, you can't," Howell interrupted, this time very firmly. "You can't and you know it. You're exhausted."
"I'm -" Brynne started to yell at him, but stopped. She swallowed the rest of the sentence, and her pride, with considerable difficulty. "Fine," she conceded after a long moment. "You take the lead."
So he did, freezing for a moment when they both heard another scream, but pressing on through a thicket of trees.
"Don't you know any other spells besides the Shield Charm?" Howell asked as Brynne kept pace behind him. "I've been meaning to ask you."
Brynne frowned. "Of course I know other spells. You know I know - we sit all of the same classes. What kind of question is that?"
"Sorry, that came out wrong," Howell apologized. "I meant is - why don't you use anything else? Anytime we've been in a fight, I've never seen you use -"
"Dark magic?" Brynne interrupted.
"That's not what I meant," Howell muttered, flustered. "Like, I've never seen you attack an enemy."
As far as Brynne (and her Defence text) was concerned, any magic used for the main purposes of attacking another person could be considered Dark magic. But that was a semantic argument for which she didn't have the energy at the moment - so she decided to come at the question a different way. "I don't have that many enemies."
"We've got tons of enemies," Howell said. "Or am I the only one that notices that? The Progenies and Godric's Guard both hate us and probably don't even realize it. And God knows what Malcolm's up to, no one's heard much of anything from him or his lot in months…"
"Are the Progenies and Godric's Guard our enemies?" asked Brynne. "Or just misguided?"
"Could be both," Howell reasoned. "I mean, they're misguided and that's why they're our enemies. Or they're enough like enemies that we should probably be treating them as such until they prove something different."
"Eventually, if you keep treating somebody like an enemy, that's exactly what they turn into," Brynne said. "That's literally how we ended up here."
"Well, maybe…" Howell whirled around. Brynne stopped. "Maybe standing between two groups of people that want to rip each other to pieces isn't doing anything but getting us ripped to pieces first. I mean… did you take one look at her face? Huh?"
Brynne was confused by this question.
"I've seen it a hundred times, Kadric," she answered. "And I don't see a difference."
"You weren't looking hard enough, then," Howell answered, his nostrils flaring angrily. Then he turned away from her for a moment. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Then, calmly, and without looking at Brynne, he said, "...She's going to leave after this. And I think you know that. And you need to let her."
Brynne frowned. "Why wouldn't I? I'm not heartless."
"I know you aren't," Howell said. "I just think you - lots of people with big dreams, really… I guess what I'm saying is…"
"Go on," Brynne tried to coax him.
"Sometimes people that chase big dreams… tend to forget about the small people," Howell said quickly, clearly trying to get the entire thing out before he lost his nerve. "And I just hope you're not-"
The scream came again.
"We have to go," Brynne insisted.
"Right," agreed Howell, and they set off through the trees.
When they emerged they realized that they had come, through some circuitous route or another, around the rim of the Forbidden Forest, and were now staring upward at the looming castle. The moon was well hidden behind clouds, yet the castle's silver-white glow was not abated in the least. Though tonight, it looked less inviting and more menacing. Maybe that was just because of everything inside.
"HAGRID!"
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The scream was close enough to be intelligible now, coming from a large hut Brynne recognized as belonging to the Hogwarts gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor. She and Howell sprinted to the hut, rounding it to find the door.
They found a door, and leaning weakly against it a small girl with disheveled ginger hair. She pounded the massive wooden door again, slumping lower, her robe-clothed form racking with sobs. Brynne and Howell had both identified her in an instant - they exchanged a wordless look. Brynne stepped forward tentatively, and then kept going after Howell's lack of motion confirmed that he was utterly lost in this situation and she would have to handle it on her own.
Reaching a hand toward the crying girl, she grasped her shoulder and called her in a quiet voice: "Lily."
The reaction was quick and violent; Lily swung around immediately and shoved Brynne hard, so hard that Brynne teetered and almost fell. Lily was looking straight at Brynne, the whites of her brown eyes red with crying and her face streaked with lines of wetness. She had not only been weeping, but had been weeping tears in sets of two and four. People jokingly called it 'the ugly cry', but this was no joke; Lily was clearly traumatized. To Brynne's great horror, the girl's lip was swollen, having clearly taken a blow of some sort, and under her streaming eyes was an indigo-ish bruise.
"Oh, my God…" Brynne heard her own voice catch. She was supposed to be the one keeping composure when all hell was breaking loose around them, but this…. This was too much.
Really, all of it was…
"I'm so sorry," she heard herself whimper as she threw her arms around the younger girl and allowed her to weep into her shoulder. And, try as she might to keep her own tears from escaping, a few did. "I'm so, so sorry…"
It took a while for Lily to calm down. And when she did, it didn't seem like her emotions had left her as much as her energy to express them.
It was at this point, with Brynne and Lily seated at the door to Hagrid's hut, that Kadric Howell asked a dumb question.
"So… are you alright? What happened?"
"Kadric, NO," Brynne snapped, standing up.
But from somewhere below her, Lily's voice whispered, "...It's okay. No one else will believe me anyway."
This struck Brynne as especially ominous, and she sat down. "What…" she stumbled on her words, suddenly afraid to finish asking the question. "...What did they do to you?"
"It was…" Lily stopped.
Brynne shook her head. "Never mind. You don't have to…"
But Lily interrupted her again. "It was that Prefect Gryffindor's got…"
Howell's nostrils flared. "Temple. That bastard."
"He, a girl, and another boy…" Lily said. "They came down to the Dungeon and demanded to be let in. Boyd, the head boy, was there. He said no. Then Temple… then Temple said he was under orders from Professor Wenster to take in a Slytherin student and if we didn't open the door, Wenster would come back himself with Hogsmeade's Hit Wizards…"
This was an empty threat, Brynne knew. From what she'd heard of Hogsmeade, its on-duty force of Hit Wizards was half a dozen, none of whom would be apt or even permitted to leave their post and make the trek up to the castle, let alone use any sort of force on an underage student, without orders from a direct superior. And it was overkill; the threat of Wenster himself would have been enough to change minds. The majority of House Slytherin hated him but were also terrified of him for some reason Brynne couldn't quite figure out. (Well, besides the fact that he was very powerful and held such naked animosity against House Slytherin. But there was something else there… something Brynne must not have known about.) In any case, Lily didn't have to spell it out to Brynne for her to know the result.
"So Boyd let them in," Brynne said.
Lily swallowed hard and nodded. "I was minding my business, sitting at a table with Karyn and reading Which Broomstick… Mum had almost every issue lying around the house, so it reminded me of home…"
Brynne's face fell into a sad frown. Up until now, Lily had been putting on a brave face for everyone, but the truth was that she had been extremely homesick. It was to be expected, Brynne thought, for a first year brought up in such a loving home and away from it from the first time. And not being able to see her brothers or any of her cousins in other houses much, if at all, couldn't have been helpful.
This is exactly why you don't do things like this, Brynne thought, inwardly cursing the Headmaster's decision-making.
"Next thing I know they've all surrounded my table saying I needed to come with them. Then a boy with the Progenies came over. I can't remember his name, but he had glasses…"
"That's Nott," Howell muttered, exchanging a glance with Brynne.
"He asked what was going on and why they were bothering me," Lily said. "Vaisey told him to… well, 'mind his business.'"
"I'd bet there were a few other colorful words in there?" Howell asked.
Lily nodded grimly. "That's when…"
She trailed off and then put a hand to her mouth.
"Oh, God, I hope he's alright," she whimpered.
"What did they do to him?" Brynne asked.
"Temple Stunned him," replied Lily. "He didn't even have his wand out."
"Cheap shot," Howell commented. "Typical."
"And then Vaisey…" Lily shook her head. "He went over to him, and he just…"
She shook her head again.
"He stomped on his face... as hard as he could," she gulped. Brynne heard Howell mutter an oath. "I've never seen anybody do something so awful. And then he said something mad. 'That's for you and your rubbish grandfather,' or something. The girl grabbed me. I couldn't even move. She's even bigger than the girl from your room, Brynne…"
"That's… ugh. Can't remember her name, either, but I know who you're talking about," Howell answered, frowning. The girl from Brynne's room, of course, was Marsha Flint, who had bothered Lily once before. Just once - before Brynne let her know in no uncertain terms that Lily was under her protection. Marsha, naturally, remembered what had happened the last time she had crossed Brynne, and that was all it took to set her straight. All that said, the girl that had gotten hold of Lily was larger still. She was a sixth year and nearly as big as Temple, who cut an imposing figure himself.
"Vaisey had his wand out and wanted to curse Nott again but the girl told him to stop. He didn't listen at first," Lily explained. "Not until Temple told him to. But then he just jinxed Karyn. It was a Leg-Locker Curse. She tried to stand up and fell over. Hit her head on the table. Vaisey said it was so she couldn't follow us…"
"But I bet he just did it for a laugh," Howell said, disgusted. "Sick bastard."
"They took me up to Professor Wenster's office," Lily explained. "Said he'd asked for me. But the one girl… they had a row all of a sudden, she said it was too much. There was a lot of shouting and swearing - Vaisey, mostly - and then she stormed off."
Brynne swallowed hard. "Did they hurt you?" she asked.
"Not too badly," Lily said, palming her head. "Not like they did Hugo, he must have really tried to fight back…"
She looked at the ground for a long while, shaking her head repeatedly, and letting a few sobs escape.
"I just wish I wasn't so weak," she said.
"Don't do that to yourself," Brynne replied.
"I don't like that people got hurt…" Lily said. "Trying to protect me. James and Al, too… it shouldn't be like that."
"Everyone's older than you," Howell said, his tone indicating that he was hoping to sound comforting and unsure if he did. "What did you expect -"
"I'm a Potter!" she let loose a shout that echoed off into the distance, her head snapping up, and her tear-blotched eyes locked in a stare at Howell that was so fierce and blazing that the older boy backed up a step. Then, looking at her hands, she murmured, "I should at least be able to take care of myself."
Brynne put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a half-embrace that Lily neither returned nor resisted.
"This won't stand," Brynne said firmly. "You hear me?"
Howell frowned. Not meeting Brynne's eye, he advised with more than a hint of bitterness, "Don't go making more promises you can't keep."
Brynne jumped to her feet and stared a hole through Howell. "You don't believe me? I'll make an Unbreakable Vow, then. Take out your wand."
This took Howell off guard, so much so that his jaw dropped and he audibly stammered. "Y-you can't be serious. You're not. You do know what happens if -"
"Yes, I bloody well know!" Brynne snapped fiercely, feeling wetness in her eyes but blinking it back. "But how in the hell can I protect hundreds of Hogwarts students if I can't even protect one, let alone ten?"
Howell shook his head. "That's not your job."
"It will be. One day," she said quietly, letting out another sigh. Another of her plans gone to pot. He was supposed to be the first person to know this - but once again, circumstance was making a shambles of things. "Because, one day, I'm going to be in charge here. I'm going to be Headmistress. And people that use students as a means for power… people like Wenster and Malcolm… won't have any place here."
Howell was astonished into silence for a second. When he swallowed and found his voice, he said, "Well… as for an Unbreakable Vow, you're out of luck. That spell's a bit over my head."
"Never mind," Brynne sighed heavily through her nose. "If I can't bring this off, I'm likely to die trying anyway…"
They sat and stood there in silence for a moment. Howell and Lily jumped a bit at an unfamiliar, keening cry. But Brynne was calm, watching something that looked a bit like a shooting star flying toward the castle.
"Probably just something from the forest," she said.
The next sound was quite blaring and made all three of them jump. A voice, female but commanding, echoed throughout the castle ground. "ATTENTION, HOGWARTS STUDENTS."
There was a pause.
"THIS IS YOUR ACTING HEADMISTRESS, PROFESSOR GLADSTONE."
"Wait, what?" Howell uttered. "Acting Headmistress? What in Merlin's…"
"Has Flitwick been away this whole time?" queried Brynne.
"It would explain a lot," remarked Howell.
But Lily dissented. "No, I saw him at breakfast this morning."
"ALL STUDENTS, PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS IMMEDIATELY."
Brynne frowned.
"Something's happened."
James
It felt like this lift had been going forever. James knew that the Headmaster's office was in a high tower and, in fact, had been here once or twice before. Neither time did he remember the lift taking this long. He half thought Professor Wenster, who was standing on the other side and hadn't talked in a good while, was slowing things down purposely, just to torment him.
"You haven't looked me in the eye this whole time, Potter," Wenster commented, as if on cue. James instantly preferred the silent treatment. "Are you that ashamed?"
It was all James could do not to reach up and deck the old codger in the jaw. Of course, Wenster probably knew that. That was why he had James's hands tied behind his back.
"No," James admitted. "I just don't like you very much, is all."
This was putting it mildly. James wasn't sure he'd hated anyone more. All of this… all of it… was his fault.
Well, his and Beal's, James reasoned to himself. But Beal knew how this would play out with Wenster here. That's why he knew what he did would work.
"You're an insolent one," Wenster said. "Thought your parents would've taught you better manners than that."
"Does it matter?" James answered bitterly. "You've already decided what you're going to have done to me. Kissing up isn't going to help."
"No," confirmed Wenster. "That it won't. We're not likely to speak again after this - so, tell me, why do you hate me so much? I'm curious."
James's face contorted with rage and loathing. "You've made life very difficult for people I love and care about," he said. "It's that simple."
"Only for the greater good," Wenster replied. "Maybe, one day, you'll understand-"
"I understand the greater good doesn't sacrifice people so easily," James interrupted, finally looking up and fixing a glare on Wenster. "And if it does, maybe it's not good enough."
"And your father taught you that, I'd bet," Wenster said. "He was naive, too. That's why most of Britain didn't want him as Head Auror."
"And he's been there for thirteen years now," James answered.
Wenster raised both eyebrows.
"For all your arrogance and bravado," he croaked at last, "you've still lost. There's nothing you can say or do to cover that. It's a shame, too. You could have taken me up on my offer. You've got talent. No matter. As I said, for the greater good…"
The lift door slid open to reveal the shelves and effects of Headmaster Flitwick's personal office - a place that would have looked quite warm and inviting, if not for one minor snag. Typically, for a student to be summoned to Flitwick's office required a convention of the Disciplinary Panel or something else similarly ominous. It was a nice place to look at, but seldom ever a fun place to be.
And this evening, it was crowded; James counted that he and Wenster would make eight at the very least.
"You're late, Professor," a voice called from across the room. James recognized it as belonging to Professor Malcolm. Somewhat oddly, the normal urge James got to punch the man's face whenever he opened his mouth never appeared. Perhaps, James thought grimly, he had spent all his hate for the day...
"Yes, yes, I know we agreed upon seven," Wenster muttered impatiently. "My charge was uncooperative."
"I was under the impression that your 'charge' was unconscious." Another man spoke up. Professor Ithamar Ambrose, for a moment, looked much younger than his thirty-and-a-few years as he removed his spectacles from his face to at least go through the motion of wiping them off.
"Unconscious, uncooperative… same difference," replied Wenster gruffly. "Also, Headmaster, your lift may need to be looked at."
"You could do with a bit of patience, Lucan," Headmaster Flitwick, though Wenster was something around ninety years old, managed to address the wizened Transfiguration master like a doting father would a son. Lips twitched behind a wispy, white beard as the Headmaster added, "We're no longer at an age where we can go on with too much stress."
A cough issued forth from one of the adult wizards. Standing next to Malcolm, Professor Gladstone had her mouth in her fist. James, though, could have sworn he saw upturned lips behind that fist. And maybe Malcolm saw something as well, because he was giving her an odd look. Maybe, though, James rationalized, it was a trick of the light.
Speaking of tricks of the light, there seemed to be something shining on the fist hiding Gladstone's mouth. James stared at it for a moment and followed the motions of the Professor's hand to realize that the shiny object was a rare stone of sorts - a rare stone that must have been set into a ring.
Even Malcolm and Gladstone, after a while, had dispensed with the secrecy of their relationship. (Such a thing was rather hard to hide, after all, after a good chunk of Hogwarts had seen them snogging at last year's Valentine's Day social.) Though no details were shared - which, James thought, was likely for the better - everyone certainly knew. Rumors had gone around the school that Malcolm had proposed to Gladstone in secret, or was going to get around to it at some point soon. Apparently 'soon' had already taken place, judging by the ring on Gladstone's finger - a ring James had never seen her wearing in her Charms class.
"Well, now that you're done having a laugh at my expense…" Wenster uttered disdainfully.
"Laughter can be had from you at… what's the word… a bargain?" A man had been standing in the distance, staring out of the tall windows behind Professor Flitwick's desk. James hadn't noticed him - probably because the violet robes he wore with his turban. Both were spangled with stars that actually seemed to twinkle and glow as he moved, and had seemed to blend right into the background. He had brownish-tan skin, and an impressively thick mustache over the beginnings of a salt-and-pepper beard. Thin, perfectly round glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, shielding dark eyes that nevertheless seemed to shine.
"Are you calling me a joke, Professor 'Hail-im'?" Wenster asked, mispronouncing the man's name. "What, exactly, are you doing here?"
"It's 'Hah-leem', Professor, as I've reminded you before," the brown-skinned Professor said, with a tone that suggested that this was neither the first nor the second time that he'd had to make this correction with Wenster in particular. "And I am here observing."
"Observing what, might I ask?" Professor Wenster's attitude toward Professor Halim (who incidentally taught Ancient Runes and with whom James got on better than most teachers) was immediately and nakedly confrontational. James didn't know exactly why, but it seemed - at least from where Wenster was standing - that an extra party in the room represented a threat to whatever he was or had been planning.
"I can answer that," Flitwick chimed in in his small squeak. "You'll know by now, of course, that Clint and Meridia," he nodded toward Professors Malcolm and Gladstone, "are engaged to be married."
James caught a glimpse of the other three House Heads' faces. Gladstone beamed; Malcolm allowed himself a smile, looking surprisingly human.
Ambrose forced a smile that managed to look genuine after a second; before that, he'd looked like a man that had taken a swift boot to the bollocks and was trying very hard not to show the agony on his face.
"No, I did not know that, in fact." James heard the unspoken part of Wenster's sentence - and I couldn't care less. "I suppose congratulations are in order."
"Well, to make a long story short," Flitwick said, "Initially they decided upon a summer date but have more recently decided upon an elopement to the Isle of Man over the winter holidays. And then, not long after that, some time to set up their home before they honeymooned in… where was it?"
"Greece," Malcolm finally intimated after a very badly concealed elbow nudge from his fiancee.
"Mykonos?" Professor Halim chimed in with a query.
"...Yes, in fact." Malcolm answered, giving Halim a suspicious look - probably, James surmised, trying to figure out how the hell the Ancient Runes master had managed to guess the specific location so exactly.
Halim nodded. "Nice place. Went there once as a young man with the intent of studying the Ptolemaic dynasty."
"Mykonos isn't exactly a hotbed for wizarding history from what I've heard," Malcolm said, both he and Gladstone (who was smiling wryly) clearly picking up on something James wasn't.
"Well, no, but… best laid plans and all that." Halim punctuated his statement with a pause and a knowing chuckle. "Like I said, I was a young man…"
"I still fail to understand what these nuptials have to do with your being in this meeting tonight," Wenster stated stiffly.
"As I said," Halim replied patiently, "I'm observing."
Flitwick piggybacked. "The timeline our happily betrothed friends have given me puts their return to Hogwarts after the winter holidays a couple of weeks into January. I've arranged for coverage for their classes for that time period for Professor Malcolm's Defence classes. As for Professor Gladstone's Charms periods… well, I thought I'd step in and do those myself."
"I appreciate it, Headmaster," Gladstone chimed in.
"Oh, no, the pleasure's all mine, Meridia. Believe me," Flitwick answered. "It's been a few years since I've gotten to teach young wizards instead of simply handling all of the administrative tedium. I'm looking forward to it. That said… should any urgent matters pop up in that span of time, we'll need someone else to take on the role of Acting Head of House for Ravenclaw. And that is where Professor Halim has graciously volunteered himself for the responsibility."
"In other words," Halim expounded further, "on the off chance another one of these unpleasant Disciplinary Panel meetings has to take place before Professor Gladstone returns, the Headmaster thought it prudent for me to gain some firsthand experience in how they work. I apologize if that inconveniences you at all, but…"
"No, no inconvenience," Wenster interrupted stiffly, making it transparently obvious that Halim's presence was, in fact, an inconvenience. "Shouldn't keep us from going about business as usual." This, along with the half-second glance he shot Halim at the end, constituted a badly disguised threat - You had better not keep us from going about business as usual.
"You're eager, aren't you?" Professor Halim queried, making a bristling sound as he stroked his stubble with his finger and thumb. "Can't say I like that."
Wenster strode away from James and took his place with the other three House heads.
"Well, here in this country, we've got an adage many of us are taught as young children. If you've nothing nice to say, best to say nothing."
"Lucan - one last detail…" Flitwick said, but Ambrose talked across him.
"Professor Wenster, I believe Professor Halim is well aware of his origins and doesn't need reminding."
"Ithamar," Flitwick said, and his paternal air was gone. "Do not interrupt me. Lucan, as I was about to say…regretfully, you do not have the authority to sit this panel."
"The authority?" Wenster asked, sounding more confused than affronted. "Have I missed something? You named me Acting Head of Gryffindor House…"
"A title that carries weight only when and for as long as the appointed Head of House is away from Hogwarts or otherwise unavailable to carry out the responsibilities of his office," a voice sounded from somewhere behind James. James's heart and stomach did an odd lurch in his chest. He dared not look back, lest he find out that the voice he was hearing belonged to no one and was only in his head. "If the appointed is again present and available…"
A tall man took three strides past James without looking at him.
"The title and all of its attendant powers and responsibilities return to him," Professor Neville Longbottom finished. "Or her. Evening, Meridia."
Gladstone was speechless; clearly neither she nor anyone else in the room aside from the headmaster knew that Neville was here this evening.
"Professor Longbottom." Despite the seriousness of the situation, James almost had to fight down a laugh; he had never seen a person's face cycle through that many colors in such a short amount of time as he watched Wenster go white, then blue, then pink, then orange, then red, and then back to pink in the ensuing silence. "What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?"
"Happened to be in the area," Neville said casually. "Thought I'd come see whether the school was still standing. Not that I didn't trust you, of course…"
"You're a ways from London, Professor Longbottom," Wenster replied in a booming drawl. "'Happened to be in the area'? Or were you perhaps called?"
"I haven't had any contact with anyone in this room since August," Neville answered. "And until today, I hadn't spoken to any Hogwarts students since we broke for the summer last June. Now… with all due respect, if we're to get started, I believe that's my spot."
James could practically see smoke leaving Wenster's nostrils as he sighed heavily through them, and then stepped aside to allow Neville past. Neville took his place besides the other three House heads and turned to face James and the other boys. He'd grown a beard in his time away, and had perhaps lost a bit of weight.
James finally glanced at the other students in the room.
Scorpius was there, his face gray except for his lip, which had a rusted dribble of dried blood. He hadn't made as much as a sound since James walked in the room, and looked like something undead standing there, except for his eyes, which were locked in a disturbingly inscrutable stare at Neville.
Behind him a ways were Temple and Vaisey who, to James's great shock, had their hands bound just like James and Scorpius did.
"This is an unusual thing you're doing, recommending four students from your own House for expulsion from Hogwarts," Headmaster Flitwick said. "I've been teaching for well over a half century and can't say that I've ever seen it."
"It's an unusual situation," Wenster replied. "Two of these boys abused the trust and license I gave them as Acting Head of Gryffindor House, and the other two actively tried to murder the first two."
"Murder? I didn't try to murder anyone," Scorpius suddenly piped in.
"The accused will speak only when spoken to," Wenster said dismissively.
"Murder?" Ambrose piped in. "That is a very serious accusation, Professor Wenster. Where is your proof?"
"Mr. Vaisey and Mr. Temple abducted Miss Potter from the Slytherin common room," replied Wenster. "It is therefore understandable, though not excusable, that Mr. Potter, in an attempt to retrieve his sister, stormed up to my office with violent intentions for whomever he happened to find there."
"Where is Miss Potter now?" questioned Ambrose.
"That, I'm not sure about," Wenster replied. "Much less with the Veil up again -"
"The only option available after things had escalated beyond a certain point this afternoon," the headmaster interrupted.
Neville sighed.
"You didn't tell me that part," he said to Flitwick. The magic that made students from other Houses invisible to each other within the castle grounds did not apply to professors, so none of them would have been able to tell at a glance if it had been activated. It was powerful, ancient magic that, to this point, had only been utilized once in recent memory, which was at the peak of Gladius Leo's activity more than a decade prior. Before then, it had been used so seldom (at least according to what Rowan Lester had read and relayed to them) that some Headmasters of Hogwarts went through their entire tenures unaware of its existence.
Yet Flitwick had used the magic barrier twice in a calendar year - and this second time was after the first had made him the target of mass outcry from the Wizarding community. James had heard through the grapevine that summer that there was a point where it looked like the Headmaster's job might be in jeopardy.
"The parents will be furious," Neville said.
"I did what was necessary," Flitwick answered, unapologetically. "I don't doubt there well might have been a murder if things had gone much longer."
"That's a fair tie-in to the next point I was about to make," Wenster commented. "Mr. Potter seems to have been in the business of attempting to undermine my attempts to regain control of the situation peacefully."
"Peacefully, you said?" Ambrose queried. "I was under the impression that this… 'Godric's Guard' organization… was started under your orders. Particularly after you used them some weeks ago to threaten me with arrest."
"I was trying to find out the truth," Wenster replied.
"From where I was sitting, you were trying to intimidate everyone," Ambrose rebutted.
"You take things too personally, Ithamar," Wenster said, looking away from him. "You always have. It's almost forgivable as a child, but at your age…"
"You're damn right it's personal!" Ambrose suddenly exclaimed, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Known as soft-spoken, almost mouselike, the Potions master and Head of Slytherin never raised his voice like that - nor did he swear, for that matter. "Or did you conveniently forget that Tellius Nott and Karyn Harper were sent to the Hospital Wing with injuries? I'm honor-bound to protect the students of House Slytherin every bit as much as you are to protect House Gryffindor."
"And yet you send several of your students to interfere with Godric's Guard performing a task I had assigned them," Wenster replied.
Ambrose raised his eyebrow. "I did not, in fact."
"Then who are the Progenies?" asked Wenster.
"A student-led initiative," Ambrose answered simply. "My Slytherins felt it necessary to band together to protect themselves because of your failure to control Godric's Guard. I had nothing to do with the creation of that group - or with any of its activities."
"A conveniently easy out," replied Wenster. "Even if that's true, the responsibility still lies with you as Head of Slytherin House to control them."
"The same goes for you with House Gryffindor," countered Ambrose, not willing to back down.
"Gryffindors take no issue with stamping out the rogue elements within their own House," Wenster said, sweeping his hand to indicate James and the other three boys he had brought before the panel. "Britain's history would look much different if the same could be said for Slytherin House."
"Professor Wenster, Professor Ambrose - that's enough," Neville finally jumped in. "These four young men are the ones on trial here, not either of you."
"Perhaps we're doing this wrong, then," Ambrose said. "At what point do we find out who bears responsibility for three of my students being injured?"
"I already told you," Wenster replied, sounding somewhat irritated. "Mr. Vaisey and Mr. Temple. Also, ultimately, Mr. Potter."
"Both members of Godric's Guard, correct?" Ambrose asked. "I'm not always good with names but I do remember faces."
"They acted outside the realm of freedom I allowed them," Wenster answered. "I trusted them to help me bring order and they abused that trust."
"We only did what you told us to do!" Vaisey suddenly exclaimed.
"And what's worse," Wenster went on without missing a beat, not even changing tone to acknowledge Vaisey's outburst. "What's worse… is they claimed my authority to do so."
"So you admit that you had at least something to do with several Gryffindor students showing up at Slytherin's dungeon demanding my students give up Miss Potter - and the altercation that ensued?" Ambrose queried pointedly.
"Yes to the first, no to the second. I simply asked them to retrieve Miss Potter," replied Gryffindor's once-Acting Head of House. "I gave them permission to use force only in the event that they would need to defend themselves."
"Tellius Nott rushed me," Vaisey piped in.
"That's interesting, Mr. Vaisey," Ambrose replied. "I spoke to Mr. Nott not an hour ago, and he tells me a different story."
"Of course he does," Vaisey answered sourly. "He's lying. Thought you of all people would know that. That's what you all do, right?"
"Excuse me?" Ambrose uttered, sounding affronted.
"You're treading dangerous territory, Mr. Vaisey," Flitwick said. "It might behoove you to show a bit more respect than that."
"Respect to the man that allowed two of his students to beat me bloody and get away scot-free and now wants to act all indignant when a couple of Slytherins come up injured?" Vaisey spat. "No, thanks."
Ambrose's fists clenched for a moment.
"I won't deny that what Garrick Claudius and Shelby Fletcher-Hawes did to you last year was reprehensible, Mr. Vaisey," Ambrose said. "I tried to balance justice for you and mercy for them with my decision-making. But your response to that… Karyn Harper is a first year. An eleven-year-old girl. And Mr. Nott would never start a fight unless he had a very good reason. I know that much about him. He's not violent by nature. But it seems that you are - which begs the question of why..."
He rounded on Wenster again.
"...someone with such obvious tendencies would be put into such a situation by a competent professor," Ambrose finished, eyeing Wenster suspiciously.
"Are you suggesting that I'm incompetent?" Wenster asked, as if challenging Ambrose to say exactly that. But Ambrose did not take the bait.
"No, I'm suggesting the exact opposite," he answered. "Which is far worse."
"I'm certainly not incompetent," Wenster muttered. Raising his eyebrows then, he said, "Though I do concede to being fallible like any other human being."
"Is that so?" Ambrose asked, with an almost jovial sarcasm that James hadn't heard from him before. "First I've heard of it. In about twenty years, mind."
"Do not mock me, Ithamar," Wenster said. "This situation is enough of a farce without you taking this as an opportunity to nurse your grudge against me."
"If I may interject," Professor Halim chimed in, "we have… what is the saying? 'Bigger fish to fry', here, do we not? I, for one, have details of a lesson plan to finish. So if we can get to the important portion of these proceedings…"
"Thank you for keeping us on track, Professor 'Hail-im'." James frowned. He was sure Wenster was doing that on purpose now - and judging by Halim's face, Halim was as well. "We shall proceed, once our esteemed colleague kindly remembers that he is no longer twelve years old-"
"No."
Ithamar Ambrose's voice was quiet but sharp, and drew attention in a way a snarl or yell would not have done.
"You're absolutely right, Lucan," Ambrose said. Malcolm and Gladstone exchanged a glance. Apparently, Ambrose calling Professor Wenster by his first name was extremely out of the ordinary. "I am not your twelve-year-old student anymore. I am a Professor and Head of House Slytherin, and you will address and respect me as such, or I will remove myself from this panel."
This brought a moment of silence in the room. Gladstone's jaw was hanging open a bit. She seemed to notice after about a second and closed it. Malcolm was silent, his blue eyes darting behind his glasses between the other people in the headmaster's office - yet even he looked more than a bit tense.
Headmaster Flitwick was the first to speak. He took a deep breath, and James thought it sounded a bit labored. Maybe, James thought, Flitwick was simply getting tired. He was quite, quite old, after all... "You do remember, Professor Ambrose, that the rules state that all four-"
"I'm well aware of how the panel works, Headmaster," Ambrose answered calmly, not looking at Flitwick, and instead, staring a hole straight through Wenster. "Our 'esteemed colleague' seems to have forgotten."
"You haven't changed a bit," Wenster spat bitterly. "Exactly why I disagreed with your appointment as Head of House at - what was it, twenty-five?"
"There weren't any other options," Ambrose said venomously. "Mostly owing to you having chased every other Slytherin away from Hogwarts."
"For God's sake!" Flitwick finally exclaimed. When James looked at him, he was clutching his chest. "This is a Disciplinary Panel, not a… survey on Hogwarts politics! If we're to go on with this, we need to…"
He trailed off.
Professor Gladstone's face changed. She'd sensed something was wrong.
"We need to…" Flitwick trailed off again.
Gladstone crossed the room. "Professor?"
Flitwick took a deep breath - a breath that rattled alarmingly.
"Get…" he murmured, barely audible. "Get… Pop…"
Then he teetered, falling forward and from the desk upon which he had been standing.
"Headmaster!" Gladstone shouted.
"Shit!" Malcolm snarled with an uncharacteristic panic, making a beeline for Flitwick's falling body and pulling out his wand. "Aresto Momentum!"
Flitwick's lifeless form stopped eerily in midair. Malcolm caught hold of him and put him back onto the desk, where he lay on his back.
Suddenly, Professor Halim sprang into motion. "Excuse me," he muttered, nonetheless forcing himself between Gladstone and Malcolm, causing the latter to stagger backward in surprise and nearly trip on one of the two stairs that elevated Flitwick's desk above the rest of the office. It was unusually awkward for Malcolm and might have been humorous if not for the apparently dire situation. Meanwhile, Halim had a free path to the desk and to Flitwick, and lay his head on the Headmaster's tiny chest for a moment. Before anyone could ask the obvious question, he pulled out his wand and put the end of it right into the left side of Flitwick's chest.
It was at this point that Professor Malcolm got the obvious question out - "What are you doing?!"
Professor Halim ignored him, though, concentrated on his task as he incanted, "Fulmenculus!"
There was a crackle, and the Headmaster's body jerked. Halim put his ear to Flitwick's chest a second time, and raised his head immediately.
"Good," Halim said. "We've brought ourselves some time, but we need to move."
"What's -" Professor Gladstone looked like a deer in headlights.
"The headmaster's heart just stopped, and if we don't get him help soon, he's dead," Halim said in no uncertain terms.
Gladstone stammered for a moment and seemed to have trouble getting words out. Then something peculiar happened. Malcolm called out to her by name - "Meridia-" - and by the time she had looked up to acknowledge him, he was already in the process of planting a kiss on her lips.
Neville cringed. "Is this really the time-?"
But Malcolm wasn't listening, and it took him a moment to break the kiss. When he did, he immediately put his hands on her shoulders and said, "You're Acting Headmistress."
The change took a second, but no longer. A blink, a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes, the look in them was completely different. "Right. Professor Halim, send for Madam Pomfrey."
Professor Halim almost didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. "I appreciate Madam Pomfrey for her particular skills, but this is beyond them. He needs a proper facility."
"What? Like St. Mungo's?" asked Ambrose. "We don't have that kind of time, do we?"
"Ithamar's right," Gladstone agreed. "We'd have to get him off the grounds first and then get all the way down to London somehow."
"There's a smaller clinic in Hogsmeade, right?" suggested Malcolm. "Just built a couple of years ago. I don't know if they'll be enough."
"They'll have to be," Professor Halim answered, a grave frown turning the corners of his mustache.
"And what of these four?" asked Wenster, rather insistently.
The look Gladstone gave Wenster would have to be seen to be believed. "With all due respect, Professor Wenster, does this look like the time to you?"
"I realize it isn't convenient, Headmistress, but they have to go somewhere," Wenster replied coldly. "And after what's transpired this evening, I'll not have them back in Gryffindor Tower."
"That's not your call to make," Neville pointed out very quickly.
"And will you be leaving again to see to your wife and child after you make said call?" asked Wenster.
"Yes, I will," Neville answered matter-of-factly. "And even then, only after we make sure the Headmaster sees a Healer."
"On second thought, we may need Madam Pomfrey after all," Halim remembered. "Best way is by Portkey, but to work the magic properly, you need someone who has seen the place you're going with their own two eyes. She's the only one that has, to my knowledge."
"I'll go fetch her," Wenster replied, but Ambrose was quick to disagree.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he said.
"And why's that?" Wenster asked.
"Because two of my students are in the hospital wing, and frankly, at the moment, I don't trust you around my students," Ambrose answered.
"People that have nothing to hide tend not to see enemies around every corner," Wenster remarked.
"At this point, I'm not sure looking around a corner is entirely nece-"
"Enough!" Gladstone lost her temper. "I don't care who gets her, just go! This was already enough of a fiasco because of the both of you-"
These words very obviously set Ambrose off, and he stormed away from everyone else and toward the lift that would bear him down the tower to the rest of the castle.
"He's overly sensitive," Wenster commented.
Gladstone ignored Wenster's potshot. "The rest of you, I'll need you to return to your common rooms and explain the situation to your Houses. You too, Neville, if you're willing."
"That'll be best, probably," Neville sighed. "I've already told Hannah I might be late getting back to London."
"These four are all yours as well," Gladstone said to Neville, pointing with her chin at James and the other boys. "Your House, your decision. Honestly, I don't understand why the rest of us were brought into this to begin with. Professor Wenster should have…"
"If it were my decision, all four of these boys would be leaving Hogwarts tonight," Wenster replied.
"The Panel was created to check that sort of autocracy," Gladstone commented.
"Which is why the rest of you were brought into this," Wenster said.
"It was a waste of time," Gladstone answered coldly. "I wasn't inclined to expel four students from Hogwarts tonight, and I don't believe any of our Head of Houses here were, either."
"On that note..." Halim interjected himself into the conversation again.
"Yes?" Gladstone queried. Then, after a moment, she seemed to realize what Halim was about to ask. "Right. Yes, if you'd be so kind. The answer to the riddle is…"
"I'm rather clever. I'm sure I can figure it out," Halim crossed the room swiftly toward the lift.
This left Malcolm and Gladstone together. Malcolm went to touch her but hesitated and settled for a look. "You can do this."
"I'm not sure about that," Gladstone confessed. "But I don't have a choice now, do I?"
Malcolm nodded wordlessly, then followed Halim toward the lift.
Gladstone took a deep breath once again, then drew her wand. Pressing the tip to her throat, she whispered, "Sonorus Maxima Castellum."
When she spoke again, James heard her not much louder than she had been before, yet could also hear distant echoes of her voice coming from elsewhere - even outside the castle's walls, by the sound of things.
"ATTENTION, HOGWARTS STUDENTS..."