Chapter 20: Determination
Not for the first time in their trek back up to Gryffindor Tower, Rose (gripping her injured left hand with the other) stopped and snapped her head around to look over her shoulder.
Albus frowned, and made to approach her. He reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but was rebuffed with a somewhat violent shrug. Sadly, Albus lowered his hand.
"Rose…" he murmured hopelessly.
"No one's coming," Roxanne chimed in.
"Really?" Rose's voice was trembling alarmingly. "How do we know that?"
"Wenster has Temple and Vaisey. They're with him," Roxanne answered quietly. "He let us go. I'm not sure why, but he did."
"Probably easier to expel just a couple of students instead of seven or eight," Albus said, surprised at how bitter his voice sounded.
"Or he doesn't want us in the hearing to mention how he tried to have us all killed," Rose theorized, her voice even more bitter.
"That might be a bit of a reach," Roxanne disagreed.
"Oh, you think so? Where the hell did those statues come from, then?" Rose asked. "Wenster's a Transfiguration master. He's the one that set that magic up. I know it."
There was a silence. Rose swallowed, with an expression suggesting that what she had just swallowed had been sour milk or something else similarly disgusting. This expression turned into a hiss as she tried to clench her hand again to no avail. The pain doubled her over for a moment. Then she looked up at Albus.
"You can't really trust anybody, can you?"
Her voice was small, her brown eyes supplicative, almost pleading… and her question one Albus could not answer. He looked away from her for a moment.
He heard her take a sharp breath and knew she had succumbed to tears. Typically, Albus had grown somewhat annoyed with her weepy tendencies, but today he found it difficult to blame her. To understate things terribly, it had been one hell of an afternoon.
But as he turned his eyes back on her again, something peculiar - something frightening - happened. Her sobs turned into laughter. Or at least something that sounded like laughter. It was much too shrill, much too loud, and had an odd, forced quality that made the hairs on the back of Albus's neck stand on end as it echoed through the empty hallways of the castle. She buried her face in her hand for a moment. When she looked up at him again, tears were visible in her eyes - and yet they were accompanied with a much-too-wide smile.
"They lied, Al," she said cryptically. "They all lied."
Another sob-laugh. She buried her head and shook it, sending waves of auburn trailing out behind her as she walked past her two cousins and into the lead. Wordlessly, Albus watched her (and Roxanne, who attempted to follow) walk away, and happened to notice that the next time she looked up, her hands - including the burned one - clenched tightly into fists.
Casting one look behind himself - one last check for foes he couldn't quite convince himself were no longer at his heels - he finally followed.
They saw no one, in fact, until they at last reached the last approach to the Gryffindor common room. Albus found himself overtaken by a brief moment of panic as he wondered whether the password had been changed in their absence with everything going on.
But the Fat Lady and her portrait had already turned aside, revealing a figure in the doorway and rendering the need for a password completely unnecessary.
"Greta," Roxanne said breathlessly.
"So let me get this straight." The Head Girl stepped through the opening and out slightly into the hallway, blocking the entrance. "You not only ignored a direct order from a Prefect to stay inside the common room, but then attacked that Prefect when he tried to stop you."
"And where the hell have you been this entire time?" Greta did a bit of a double take. Rose was typically very deferential to any ranked Hogwarts official, and that included the Prefects and Student Heads. "Off with Freddy in some dark corner of the castle, I'd bet?"
"That's none of your business," Greta said, looking very uncomfortable as a tinge of pink rose to her cheeks.
"I guess not," conceded Rose sourly, her face locked in a scowl. "I'll tell you what is, though - my brother, Hugo."
"...Was taken in by Professor Wenster for questioning about the duel on the seventh floor. So I've heard," Greta replied. "That's still no valid excuse to go around stunning Prefects."
"She didn't stun Bourne," Roxanne piped in. "I did."
Greta swallowed hard. Not meeting her eye, she finally said, "Just because Freddy and I are… close, doesn't give you the right to change the rules as you see fit. Bourne wasn't just throwing his weight around for no good reason. He's not that type of person."
"At least one of your Prefects isn't," Rose muttered mutinously, not remotely bothering to lower her volume so that Greta wouldn't hear her.
Greta frowned. Albus imagined she knew who Rose was talking about.
"Here's my point," the Head Girl said insistently. "Bourne wasn't telling you lot to stay inside the common room for no reason. That came straight from our Head of House, Professor Wenster."
"Here's my point," Rose shot back immediately, raising her eyebrows - "Fuck Lucan Wenster. He can burn in hell. And so can anybody that supports him, including you."
"It's not a question of support," the Head Girl answered. "I have a job to do. And… unfortunately, in this case, it means barring you from re-entry until Professor Wenster or the Headmaster himself says you're allowed back."
"So you'll let Godric's Guard back in, but not us?" Rose asked.
Greta looked away uncomfortably for a moment, but then turned her back on the three of them. She raised her hand wordlessly and the portrait began to close behind her. When it did, the Fat Lady had vacated her post.
Rose was surprisingly unmoved by this. "Guess you don't become Head Girl without some arse-kissing."
This prompted a confused reaction from Roxanne. "I thought you wanted to be Head Girl one day."
Rose slumped down against the wall. "I thought I did, too. I thought they did the right thing."
"Greta's not a bad person, Rosie," Roxanne replied. But Rose rolled her eyes and bitterly averted her gaze.
"You're just saying that because she's snogging Freddy," she murmured.
"You don't trust me now, either?" queried Roxanne, clearly upset by this. "C'mon, Rosie, you're -"
"I'm what?" Rose snapped an interruption. "What am I? I'm not clever like my mum, I can't make people laugh like my dad, I can't even keep my own little brother safe. What the hell am I?"
Albus frowned. Rose's voice was cracking all throughout her rant, and it sounded like these were thoughts Rose had wanted to get off her chest long before this whole mess with Wenster and the others started.
And he recognized them because it had mostly been the way he'd been feeling. After all, Albus wasn't a Quidditch ace or a national hero. He couldn't fly or duel as well as James could, and he couldn't protect Lily or Rose… his eyes settled on Rose's arm, which she was trying to hide with her other arm and knees and she curled up against the wall.
"You've got to go to the Hospital Wing, Rose," Albus insisted. "Your arm…"
"It's fine," Rose answered, bafflingly - although Albus could see her flinch and grit her teeth.
"Like hell it's fine," Roxanne then piped in strongly. "You've got burns halfway up to your elbow. You've gotta get that looked at."
"I don't think we can exactly waltz into the Hospital Wing with the way things are right now," Rose pointed out.
"You know Madam Pomfrey," Roxanne reassured her. "She might be an overprotective mother hen, but you can trust her, typically. She never asks many questions…"
In the silence, a thought entered Albus's mind and stayed there. It was one of those moments where, though he couldn't articulate how or exactly when he had arrived at the course of action, he knew it was best.
"We should go to Hagrid's," he said, a bit surprised by the conviction in his own voice. It certainly got the girls' attention; they both looked up at him. Rose even tilted her head a bit.
"Hagrid's?" she repeated. Rose had always been a tiny bit intimidated by their parents' old friend. To be fair, when said friend is a ten-foot tall half-giant with an odd fascination for dangerous magical creatures, a bit of apprehension with such a person is not entirely unjustifiable. But it was that experience with dangerous beasts - and the things they could do to human bodies - that Albus was banking on.
"He's Care of Magical Creatures Professor," Albus reminded her - Rose knew this already, of course. "I'm sure he's had a student take a burn or two in his classes." (Particularly the way he teaches them, he added, but only in his head.) "He might have something that can help your arm. Also… I'd like to ask him a few questions."
"Questions?" Roxanne queried. "Like what?"
Albus stayed silent at this. If Rose knew what Albus knew now, she would never go.
She did, though, and Albus led the entire way - which was odd to him. He'd always been more of a 'bring up the rear' type of person, in his own estimation, but little details like that didn't matter much at a time like this. He looked back once or twice on the large hill leading down to Hagrid's hut as Rose cried out in pain. He assumed it was the arm, but Rose's ungainly steps reminded him that she had also had one of those statues, which were no less heavy when animated - land on her leg. She traversed the hill at something of an uneven limp, barely keeping her feet.
As they finally reached the bottom, with Hagrid's hut a stone's throw away, Albus's eyes glanced at the skyline. The blues and grays of the partly cloudy heavens were deepening, the sun somewhere off to the side of them instead of right overhead. Either it was later than he'd thought it was, or the days were growing shorter. Probably a bit of both. He walked up to the door to the hut - a large, crudely crafted monstrosity of wood that, if it wasn't twice as tall as he, certainly felt like it. Not knowing if he could generate enough noise on the huge wooden door with his knuckles to get Hagrid's attention, he reared back with a foot and kicked it as hard as he could. Hopping on his other foot for a moment, he stepped back from the door, almost tripping down the two or three stairs.
It had worked, though; a moment or two later, the door swung open.
"I already told yeh, Miss Conrad, I don't have one. They all live in the - oh. Hullo, Albus. This is a nice surprise," Hagrid said, clearly having expected someone else. Albus registered the surname for but a moment, but put it aside as he had bigger issues to worry about. "You're not here ter try an' pet a unicorn, are yeh?"
"No," Albus said.
Hagrid looked up.
"Rose? Roxanne, is that you?" Hagrid seemed astonished.
"Yes, it's me. We've got a bit of a situation here," Roxanne said quickly, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries.
"Rose burned her hand experimenting with a spell," Albus said. "Madam Pomfrey's been having a busy afternoon and we thought it might be quicker if you could help. She's in a lot of pain."
Albus was almost disturbed at how readily this came out of his mouth. He'd perfectly explained the situation without outright saying anything untrue - in fact, everything he had said had been completely true. It just hadn't been the complete truth.
Hagrid's lips quivered beneath his bushy, gray beard. For a brief, panicked moment, Albus wondered if Hagrid also knew Albus hadn't told him everything.
"I might have summat," he intoned, glancing behind him. "C'mon in."
When Albus crossed the threshold and Hagrid closed the door behind all of them, he felt his body relax. It was the safest he'd felt in hours.
"Let me see," Hagrid intoned to Rose. With a deep intake of breath, she brought her hand and forearm out of hiding. Albus couldn't even look at it. He felt his lunch coming up. He looked into her eyes instead - they were brown, tearful, the black pupils inside them shrunken. "Gallopin' gorgons, Rosie… this is awful. How th'hell did yeh manage to do this t'yerself?"
"Spell went wrong," Albus answered for her once he found his voice. "Like I said. Are you going to be able to-?"
"I will," Hagrid said grimly, "but it won' be comfter'ble. You lot sit tight there at the table, I've got ter put a few things together."
Hagrid busied himself around, bizarrely, what appeared to be his kitchen area, producing a cauldron from a shelf and a few other implements as Albus, Rose (with Albus's help), and Roxanne remained at the one dining table and all climbed into chairs much too large for them. (Did Hagrid typically entertain part-giant guests? What was the point of having multiple Hagrid-sized chairs?) Albus sat there with his feet dangling awkwardly a few inches off the floor, feeling a bit embarrassed, rather like a six-year-old too short to reach the ground at the adults' table.
Nobody spoke. It was almost as if to speak would be to cheapen the gravitas of everything they had seen. Sadly, Albus wondered where Lily was, hoping she had gotten somewhere safe. But where's that now? He silently mused. Doesn't seem like it's safe anywhere in Hogwarts.
Who was going to look after Lily now? With James's expulsion all but a certainty…
A thunderous noise shook the walls of the hut. For one brief, paranoid second, Albus thought they were being attacked again; as it turned out, the almighty noise was coming from just across the hut. Hagrid was, of course, an enormous man that did nothing small - which included coughing. He let out another booming hack then, fanning the rather smoky air in front of his face, muttered, "Damn," and reached for a strip of what looked like cloth, dropped it into the cauldron, and began muttering a count to himself. Once he had reached a count of twelve, he dipped a large ladle into the cauldron, scooping out the cloth, which had turned from white (as Albus could tell when he put it in) to a sickly sort of green. He set the ladle down, picked up the cloth strip by hand and began to thunder over to them.
"Yer Uncle Charlie and I exchange letters from time to time - 'least we did 'fore he started doin' work in Scandinavia again," Hagrid grunted as he approached. Shaking his head, he muttered, almost as if to no one in particular, "Bleedin' pain gettin' letters from Norway, lemme tell ya…"
Albus remembered back to one Christmas fairly recently where Uncle Charlie had managed to get them a package from up there. It had taken some odd combination of animals and creatures to bring it off, as Albus remembered. Three owls, a mountain goat… or was it an owl and three mountain goats?
"Now…" Hagrid sat at the only open chair. It fit him, of course. Behind that bushy, gray beard, his face was grave. "I put this bandage here in a potion meant ter heal dragon burns. And I figure, if it'll do fer dragon burns, it'll do fer anything else. But I'll have a time gettin' it around an arm Rose's size with my hands. One of you'll have ter do it. Second… there's another potion they usually use ter make it so you can't feel it. But I don't have any an' it's a week at best ter grow the stuff ter make it."
"So it's going to hurt," Roxanne said. Solemnly, Hagrid nodded.
"I usually go without," he said. Glancing at Rose, he added, "But I'm used to it and my giant blood… well, I don't feel pain like a human does. An' yer so young on top of that…"
"We don't have any other options," Albus said. He felt his hand extend across the table. "I'll do it."
"Are you sure?" Roxanne asked. As if she somehow knew he hadn't noticed, she added, "Albus, your hand's shaking."
Albus glanced at the table. "So are yours."
Roxanne took her folded hands off the table, stared at them, and found (just like Albus had said) that they were trembling horribly - if she was given anything to try to hold, she would most likely drop it. Albus looked at Hagrid.
"I'll do it," he repeated.
Hagrid grimaced, and handed over the bandage. It was an odd green, and remained warm to the touch. Albus commented as such. "It's still hot," he said.
"Has ter be," Hagrid explained. "Won' work otherwise."
Albus bit his lip and looked at Rose. He wasn't sure exactly how much pain this was going to cause her. Hot cloth right over a burn…? Albus didn't know if this was medicine, magic, or just madness. Very slowly, he took hold of Rose's clenched fist and began to unfurl the fingers.
"Albus," Rose stopped him. Shaking her head slightly, she said, "You can't make this better. Just go on."
Albus swallowed hard, and let the end of the bandage hover over Rose's left wrist. Gently, he patted it down onto the abnormally pink skin, eliciting an angry-cat sort of hiss and an oath from Rose. He felt her entire arm tense and try to yank back, but had to hold it there.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"Stop apologizing and just go!" Rose exclaimed. She swallowed hard. Albus began to wrap, trying to ignore Rose's hisses, which then turned into whimpers, then growls. At about the fourth time around, her composure finally failed her. The sinews in her neck tensed and a wail escaped her: "OH, GOD-"
She buried her head into the wood of Hagrid's table and began pounding it with her other fist - repeatedly and with alarming force. Albus grit his teeth, now trying to see his process through increasingly blurred vision. He lost track of Roxanne until the latter arrived at Rose's right, grabbing her arm right as she was about to pound the table again. "It's okay, Rosie, we're here," she said, in a very shaky whisper, taking Rose's hand. Albus went up to the forearm, trying to tune out her whimpers and snarls and sobs. He would never get through this if he listened. He had to tune it out and let his mind go elsewhere whilst his eyes focused and his hands moved…
"Alrigh', that should be enough," Hagrid's voice interrupted him at one point. "Twice up an' back…"
Albus looked down. Rose's left arm was fully bandaged up to the elbow.
Rose teetered over - not onto Roxanne's shoulder, but onto his, and buried his face in his chest, trying and failing twice to put her arm around him. He didn't move, letting her rest there for a moment. But then he felt her grow heavy.
Roxanne's face, which had been streaming from the eyes, grew worried. "Rose?" She reached up a hand to gently shake her younger cousin. "Rosie -"
"She's passed out," Hagrid said grimly. Albus studied the half-giant's face and found that tears had been leaking from his eyes (and disappearing into his beard) as well. Hagrid stood and reached for Rose.
An instinct - something almost feral - leapt out of Albus, and he pushed Hagrid's arm away as best he could, which was just barely, and only because Hagrid (mostly out of shock) was holding almost all of his strength back.
A concerned look seized Hagrid's face. "Albus? What's wrong?"
"Albus," Roxanne came up behind him and gently drew his hands away. "Al, it's alright."
And Albus at last, gave way to Hagrid, who scooped Rose's limp form into his arms, where she looked like little more than a sleeping baby despite being all of fourteen. Gently, Hagrid laid her on a large mat that (by process of elimination of everything else in the room) must have been his own bed. He hovered over her for a moment.
Meanwhile, Albus felt an arm around his shoulder, and barely held himself back from breaking down himself, even though it might have been perfectly alright. "You were splendid, Albus," he heard Roxanne's voice telling him, moments before pulling him into a hug. As much as he would have liked to reciprocate, he could not. It felt like all of the strength had gone out of his body, and it was enough of an effort just to remain standing.
"For God's sake…" Hagrid muttered, finally standing. "What's happened up at the castle?"
"That's what I was hoping you'd tell us," Albus said, now feeling a fresh rush of anger against the half-giant as he remembered the other reason he'd been interested in coming down here. "It's your friend, right? Professor Wenster?"
Hagrid was bemused. "Dunno if I or anyone else can call Professor Wenster a 'friend'. I do owe 'im the life I've gotten ter lead up ter now…. 'Least, partly. It was his suggestion that… why are you so curious about Professor Wenster all of a sudden?"
"He's the one that started Godric's Guard," Albus said, his suppressed rage coming out in short stabs of breath. "Godric's Guard kidnapped Hugo and my sister."
"Kidnapped?" repeated Hagrid.
"Wenster said they were supposed to keep Gryffindor Tower safe - but from all I've seen, all they do is target Slytherins and stir up trouble," Albus said.
Hagrid frowned. He sat down. "The thing you've got to understand about Professor Wenster, Albus… first off… I've learned in my time teachin' that Slytherins aren't all bad. Hones'ly, nowadays, they're not even mostly bad. It's just that, fer some people, that lesson's hard ter pick up on… you see, Professor Wenster's seen things. An' now that he's old an' set'n'is ways, well…"
Albus swallowed hard, staring at his hands on the table. "That's still no excuse."
"I'm not sayin' it is," Hagrid conceded. "Still… if I'd gone through what he had… might be hard ter change my mind. Know this, though. He may not be the nicest feller… but at the end of the day, he won' let any real harm come to yeh - 'least not if it's up ter him..."
"Is that the Hagrid from now talking, or the one from eighty years ago?" Albus asked.
"Albus," Roxanne tried to scold him. "Don't be rude."
"I'm asking a question," argued Albus.
"I meant what I said," Hagrid bristled. "He won' let yeh get hurt. Can't say the same for this Godric's Guard, though… students, I'm guessing?"
"Yes," Albus answered, unable to meet Hagrid's eye. He had a feeling Wenster's old acquaintance knew something more than he was letting on. At the same time… Hagrid was a notoriously bad keeper of secrets. He might have let something slip by now, right…? "All Gryffindors."
"O'course," Hagrid replied. "Professor Wenster's a thumpin' powerful wizard, but he's still jus' a man. Even back when Dumbledore was at 'is peak, he couldn' be everywhere at once…"
"That doesn't matter."
All three of them turned toward Hagrid's mat. Rose was awake, sitting up and clutching her bandaged arm.
"His watch," she said simply. "His responsibility."
She attempted to stand, eliciting a panicked reaction from Roxanne, who jumped down from her chair and ran to Rose's side. "Wait a minute, Rose, you shouldn't-"
"I'm alright," Rose answered grimly, swaying unsteadily for a second when she finally reached her feet, but locking them to the ground in the end.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
"Who could that be?" Hagrid filled the hut as he stood.
"Rubeus?" a low, gravelly sort of voice called.
Everyone recognized it immediately.
"Well…" Hagrid frowned, the tiniest bit of disquiet showing on his bearded face. "Speak o' the devil."
"We have to go," Roxanne said. "Now."
Hagrid didn't argue. "Back door goes out into the garden. He won' see yeh there."
They ducked down behind a particularly - unnaturally - large pumpkin.
After a couple of minutes of hearing the exchange of Hagrid's voice with another, and after Roxanne peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, they left the garden and ran like hell.
Not wanting to go back up near the castle yet, they found themselves around the edge of the Quidditch pitch, underneath 'The Wall,' where many of the students often stood when seating became scarce. Rose slowed and put her right hand against the scaffold.
"Are you alright?" asked Albus.
"I'm fine," Rose answered a bit stubbornly, stamping the ground with one of her feet and muttering to herself through her teeth, "Come on…"
"We can rest here," suggested Roxanne.
"What?" Rose snapped. "No. What about Hugo?"
"Wenster took him up to the hospital wing, right?" Roxanne reminded her. "He's safe."
"Not with him, he isn't," Rose contended. Albus wasn't sure he could disagree.
"What are we supposed to do?" asked Roxanne. "Greta won't allow us back into the common room anyway."
Rose folded her arms.
Albus frowned. "Roxanne's right."
They stood there in silence a while. Then, eventually, they sat.
"It's getting dark," Roxanne commented, after Albus wasn't sure how long.
"How could he do that?" Rose muttered next as she shook her head, clearly not having been focused on anything Roxanne was saying.
"I don't know," Albus replied.
Rose shook her head again. Through her teeth, she said, "I'm gonna wring his damn neck the next time I see him."
"Wow," Roxanne uttered, cringing. "Listen - Rose - I know you're upset. And you should be. But it's only going to make things worse if you go around trying to… you know. Like it or not, Wenster's still a Hogwarts Professor…"
"I wasn't talking about Wenster," Rose replied. "Although if I had the chance… no, never mind. That's too good for him. Malfoy, on the other hand…"
Albus wasn't prepared for this. "Wait… what?"
"Is your memory that bad?" Rose asked. "He joined Godric's Guard. So he's got as much to do with this as anyone."
"He wasn't there," Albus said. "At least, I didn't see him."
Rose scoffed. "He never told us why, either. But I can figure it out. Wenster's powerful, an old friend of the Headmaster… Malfoys always go where the power is. The cause doesn't matter."
"He was trying to protect -" Albus started to pipe in, remembering a conversation he'd had with someone recently.
"Some people are just evil to the core, Albus," Rose cut him off, her voice icy and stoic. "It's alright to accept that."
"Everyone has light and dark inside them," Albus answered. Rose looked at him. "Something I heard Dad say once."
"Of course it was," Rose replied calmly and with more than a trace of sarcasm. "Don't you ever get tired of just being Harry Potter's son?"
"What's the point of that?" Albus asked. "That's not going to go away until he does. And he's not going away for a long time. I hope not, at least…"
A pause.
"My arm feels a lot better," Rose commented.
Albus, who clearly wasn't seeing the connection with the rest of the conversation that Rose was, simply forced a smile and said:
"That's good."
James
"You understand that I can't just do nothing."
James nodded. He already saw the silver lining, after all. In fact, this might have been for the better. He knew what had to be done now, and this meant less distraction from the task at hand.
"You could if you wanted to," Scorpius said from James's left. The utter lack of… anything in his voice was like a carving knife to the soul. James knew Scorpius well enough to know how much he loved this. As soon as he heard the news, James assumed Scorpius would rage; and if not rage, then argue; and if not argue, then at least emote; and if not emote, then at least inflect. Scorpius did none of these four things when he spoke. He didn't even seem to be looking at Neville across the desk, but through him, past him, out into nowhere in particular. "But you don't want to."
"I'm not going to give either of you special treatment," Neville said grimly.
"I was never asking for special treatment," Scorpius said, finally raising his voice a bit. "But I guess, after almost thirty years, you finally get your payback. Hope it feels good."
"Enough, Malfoy," Neville intoned firmly. "Now, like I said, we can revisit this at some point. Maybe even after the next match if you both can keep your noses clean…"
"Screw it," Scorpius deadpanned, standing up. "I already know what's going to happen."
"Sit down," Neville said calmly.
"Why?" Scorpius asked. "You and I don't have anything else to say to each other."
Neville frowned. Even he seemed uncomfortable with the situation. "For what it's worth, I much prefer this to where we were with you two a couple of years ago."
He stood.
"You can come with me. I have to go back to the common room to address the House."
James stood and followed. He had already seen his first opportunity.
"I always wondered something," James said.
"What's that?" Neville didn't shut him down immediately - a good sign.
"You started out as an Auror with my dad, right?" James asked as both followed him out of the office, Scorpius dragging behind a bit. "How long was that before you started teaching at Hogwarts?"
Neville stroked his new beard. "Let's see, what year was that…? It was right after your father was named Director. 2007?"
They kept walking.
That was right after Dad took down Gladius Leo… right after Brynne's parents were murdered, James thought to himself, his heart starting to beat a bit faster. Dare he press his luck?
I'm in for a sack of Galleons at this point.
"Do you remember someone they called -"
"SCORPIUS MALFOY!"
A shout prompted James to whirl around. When he did, he felt his knees almost go weak with relief. Walking - almost running - toward them in the hallway, were Albus, Roxanne, and -
"Rose!" Albus cried as she got to Scorpius first, reared back with a closed fist, and drove it hard into his jaw, knocking the boy to the ground.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Neville uttered, almost as if on impulse. "Rose, what's wrong with you?"
Albus stepped forward and offered a hand to Scorpius, who was still holding his face. Almost as James half-expected, Scorpius slapped Albus's hand away violently, scrambling to his own feet.
"Piss off!" Scorpius snapped, and James could have sworn he'd heard his voice break.
James didn't pay attention much to Neville's speech to Gryffindor House when they all got back inside. He picked up that Professor Gladstone - Acting Headmistress Gladstone, that is - was to address the entire student body at breakfast in the morning. Other than that, though… what was there to pay attention to? He'd seen everything with his own two eyes. So he let his mind and eyes wander...
Albus was the purest person James knew; the compassion and mercy that James had to work to reach most times, came naturally to him. The worst thing anybody had to say about him was that he was passive. It was, somewhat shamefully, one of the things that James took a sick pleasure in testing in his younger years. Honestly, all of the pranks and the needling were simply to get Albus to react - to get just a little bit pissed off.
Scream or swear at me, damn it. Do something, James would think. And at twelve, he'd considered the fact that he could get Al to freak out, just a little, about what House he would be sorted into… well, he considered that one of his greatest achievements.
Of course, James knew Albus enough already to know Albus didn't belong in Slytherin. Slytherins were ambitious. And Albus was the opposite of that, almost to a fault.
But the real Albus… his brother, that he'd known and loved as long as he could form memories… was eroding in the face of all of this. He had never seen him with his wand raised to fight. Not until today. A part of him should have been proud, he guessed. But it pained him to see his brother fighting. It was a sign, in his estimation, of his own failure to do enough.
And speaking of failure, he had failed no one as completely as he had his own sister. He wondered where she was now, whether she would ever be the same after tonight. She was brave, but to go what she had gone through… the anger welled up in him even now. It was fortunate that Vaisey and Temple had been barred from the tower until further notice. Fortunate for them, he thought to himself. It would take a long, long time for him to look at either of them and not at least fleetingly contemplate trying to kill them on sight. There had been blood on her lip when he had found her. One of those bastards had put his hands to her. And that was something he would not, could not ever…
"James."
He looked up. Brown-haired and white-faced, Richard Murphy was standing there, his lip set in a firm line.
"Merlin's cobblers, mate," he said breathlessly. "When you didn't come back, I thought you'd been expelled. Or worse."
"At least you've got your priorities sorted," answered James, unable to completely hide a small bit of amusement.
"When did you get back?"
"With Neville, just now," James replied casually. This elicited a puzzled reaction from his best friend.
"Just now? Mate, Longbottom's been gone at least ten minutes."
"Wha-?" James whirled around. Indeed, the spot James thought Neville had been standing was now conspicuously empty.
Murphy shook his head. "Never mind. It's been a hell of a day."
"That's putting it mildly," James replied, suddenly feeling a lump bulge in his throat out of absolutely nowhere. He clenched his eyes and fists tight and went silent until it had time to go away. Then, hesitantly, he asked: "Did… everyone else get out alright?"
Murphy frowned. "Everyone sort of scattered once we heard from Gladstone. Rowan and I were together but we lost track of everyone else…"
"Everyone from the other houses, you mean," James said. Murphy nodded.
"...I'm sure she got back alright," he reasoned after a moment. "That's what she does. She survives."
"I know," answered James. Then, making his determination, he added, "But she deserves better than that. Murph, listen…"
"What's up?" Murphy asked.
James swallowed hard. "You should probably stay away from me from now on."
"Let me guess," Murphy answered, sounding like someone who had heard the beginning of this conversation before. "'I don't know what path I'm going down, and if you stay with me, it may not end well.' Did I get that right?"
"Half right," James answered. "I know exactly what the path is. I just don't know what's at the end of it."
Murphy didn't speak for a second. "Well, you can't bloody well just leave it there, can you? What's that mean?"
James let out a sigh. "Lucan Wenster is everything I thought Malcolm was. Except ten times worse."
James thought Murphy was going to ask how this was possible. Instead, he stroked his chin thoughtfully for all of a second, and said, "That's… really hard to argue with at this point, honestly. So, let's assume that actually goes well by some miracle. You trying to get him sacked?"
"Sacked? No." James shook his head. Murphy's eyes widened a bit. "I don't think that'll be good enough anymore, Murph."
Murphy's face fell. "You found something out."
James had grown in a couple of years. Now, he at least had the decency to admit when he wasn't a hundred percent sure. "Possibly."
Brynne
There was a curious murmur throughout the Great Hall on Monday morning as the whole of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry took their places at their designated House tables. The news, no doubt, had spread through the school overnight to anyone who had somehow not yet heard.
Headmaster Filius Flitwick had suffered a heart attack in the evening hours yesterday. As of now, he was expected to survive. Probably. Nothing of that nature was a sure thing with someone of Flitwick's age, wizard or no. And either way, there was no telling when - or if - he would be back.
Maybe that's for the best, Brynne thought to herself. However good Flitwick's intentions were, and they typically were good, he had made a massive balls-up of this entire situation by allowing so much influence to a man that clearly had something other than the best interest of the school and its students at heart. There had long been rumors that Flitwick hadn't completely trusted the other House heads outside of Gladstone (his handpicked protege and deputy) because of their relative age and inexperience. Or, in other words, he favored Wenster because he was old, and for nearly no other reason. It was an overly simple, inherently flawed measuring stick for character.
Almost as inherently flawed as a sentient, talking wizard's hat from a thousand years ago.
Serra Paxton's rationale, as extreme and seemingly impossible as it was, make some degree of sense on that level.
More urgent events had shifted a scheme of that magnitude to the corner of the table, as it were. But it was still on the table. Maybe if they could deal with the immediate threat, they could shift to a more permanent fix to the problem such as that one…
"Brynne?" A boy's voice called her calmly.
"What is it?" she asked.
"You're doing that thing again," Kadric Howell said from across the table. "The one where your eyes sort of glass over and…"
"She's thinking," another boy, this one directly to her left at the table, intoned. Brynne set a frown upon him, but he did not see it; he was too busy pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Yes, I know that, Nott, thank you," Howell deadpanned. "You're not the only one that's spent time with her. Actually, I've probably got you beat at this point."
"Stop it," Brynne said, her nostrils flaring. "We're all on the same team now, aren't we?"
Kadric sighed audibly and shot Nott a distrustful look through the corner of his eyes as the latter went back to sip a hot tea.
Lena had been nowhere to be found that morning - and Brynne hadn't bothered to look for her. Maybe, right now, it was all too much. Maybe it would always be.
Someone sighed shakily to her right. A ginger-framed face was staring blankly down at a full breakfast plate, not eating it as more and more of its heat wafted away with each passing moment.
She had refused to come out of her room that morning. She had nearly been forgotten when Amarilys Pucey, one of the Slytherin Prefects, noted her absence and went back to go find her. If it had been up to Brynne, she would have let her take all the time she needed. Which wouldn't have been long - the girl was tough, like her brothers and like her parents - but it was longer than the natural flow of things was allowing her. Brynne offered her help initially, but Pucey (being one of the stubborn control freaks Slytherin seemed to like to elect as Prefects) rebuffed her. This exchange went on for several minutes until it became clear that nothing Pucey said was going to get her charge to emerge. Pucey, in her frustration, almost went to magic the door open. And it was at that point that Brynne had to step in.
The last thing Lily Potter needed after the evening she'd had yesterday was her bedroom door being blasted off its hinges and people walking in uninvited to come and grab her. Pucey docked a handful of points from each of them and stormed off in a huff, but points were the least of Brynne's worries. If she had cared about them a bit before yesterday, she certainly didn't now.
"You've got to eat, Lily," Brynne said. Lily responded with a toneless, wordless murmur. Brynne looked up and caught sight of the likely source of Lily's disquiet; although a few of the Gryffindors had come in early, the bulk of them were entering the Great Hall just now. Howell had noticed them as well, and turned in his seat to watch.
"You think Vaisey's in there somewhere?" he said. "I've got some things I'd like to say to him…"
Vaisey was rather nondescript in appearance now that he had cut his hair almost to the scalp. Brynne knew him by his eyes - but you couldn't pick eyes out of a crowd at this distance. There was an obvious, and really rather sad, air of nervousness, even paranoia, that had come into the room with the Gryffindors. Brynne noticed that many of the older Gryffindor students had come in first, some with wands near their pockets. They seemed to be expecting an attack.
Of course, the likelihood of that was slim, given that whoever fired the first salvo would have to do so over or through the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, which were strategically placed toward the center in the Great Hall, with Gryffindor and Slytherin to each wall.
She couldn't see him from here. Her heart dropped. Surely he hadn't been….
No.
He was toward the back, walking in now. Murphy was with him.
"Lily." Brynne pulled the sleeve on the younger girl's robes. "Lily, look."
Lily finally looked up. James had been hyper-focused, and was headed toward the Gryffindor table, until Murphy nudged him and directed him to look toward the Slytherins. James's eyes found them almost immediately. There were only a few redheads in all of Slytherin to begin with, and if two of them were seated together, they would certainly stand out.
Brynne felt overwhelming warmth, like she had just swallowed a mug of piping hot tea. James stood still for a second and then made for the tables, his eyes tracking Brynne and Lily the whole time. Maybe it was something Brynne was imagining, but he seemed straighter than before. His posture seemed better. Brynne couldn't put her finger on it.
"Brynne?" Nott queried. "We might need to listen to this."
"Listen to… what?" Brynne found herself uncharacteristically confused for a moment.
At the staff table, the whole of the Hogwarts faculty had assembled. (Except Professor Longbottom, who was conspicuous by his absence as well as - oddly - Professor Hagrid.) Meridia Gladstone had been sitting at the center seat but had now stood and was making her way around the table. Her own posture was straight and almost stiff, but a peek of the real woman behind the mask was still visible with her tall witch's hat (black like her formal Hogwarts regalia robes) positioned jauntily about her leg. Toward one end of the table, there seemed to be an expression of disapproval on the face of old Professor Wenster.
Which was perfectly fine with Brynne. Anything or anyone that made that old war hawk uncomfortable was something or someone Brynne could grow to like or at least tolerate.
"Take notes, you lot," Nott said, staring at the dais (and the podium that was conjuring itself into its front as Gladstone approached) intently. Howell glared at him for a second but seemed to wordlessly concede. No notes came out, but he, like many of the Hogwarts student body, turned toward the staff to listen. "We're about to find out what side she's on."
Gladstone looked back behind herself for a moment, seemingly for approval or encouragement from someone, then began.