Chapter 26: The Mysterious Letter
"Bloody hell," snarled James, bracing against a chill gust of wind. "This is ridiculous."
"This is January," Murphy remarked next to him - but between the wind (which was less whistling and more screaming, if such a thing was possible) and the fact that his voice was muffled by a scarf that he had wrapped around his face, James hardly heard him.
It was just then, as they reached about halfway down the hill, that James's left boot caught a patch of ice and began to slide horribly. James felt himself lose his balance in an instant.
"SHiiiIIIII-" He cried in panic, not managing to get the entire word out as he teetered.
"OI!" Murphy shouted, grabbing onto his arm and saving him from a potentially injurious tumble. "Watch it…"
James righted himself, but now his heart was attempting to escape through his chest and all five layers of clothing over his chest. He let out a groan, clutching at the front of his cloak.
This January Sunday had brought with it an… adverse shift of the weather pattern, to put it rather mildly. The ground and skies had been clear Saturday evening, with little more than a rather stiff breeze indicating anything different was in the offing.
The following morning, the castle grounds were coated in white.
The snow had broken for a bit at about lunchtime... but the damage was done. A mid-shin-height dumping of it now covered everything, and despite the sun re-emerging for a spell, the temperature had spiked downward and the residual wind from the storm's tail end was making the already brutal cold nigh unbearable.
Normally, James would not have even been outside in such conditions (and indeed, the grounds were deserted, with the cold making even playing in the snow a less than enjoyable proposition). But this was the afternoon he was to meet Hagrid for tea. And, having promised this appointment, he could not now break it.
Particularly since he would not be going alone.
They reached the bottom of the hill - James cringing as he stumbled a second time.
"You didn't have to come down with me all this way," he remarked thankfully.
"Well, if I didn't come and you got yourself buried in a snowdrift, I'd feel responsible," Murphy said with a completely straight face (as far as James could tell). James wasn't sure whether Murphy was joking or not. "Seems like my hat these days is to make sure you live to make more bad decisions."
"I couldn't cancel," sighed James. "It's bad enough I dropped Care of Magical Creatures for Ancient Runes at the last minute. He's gonna think I'm avoiding him. And we haven't talked since..."
"You and Hagrid? Or you and her?" Murphy asked suddenly, giving James a clap on the shoulder that he barely felt through two shirts, a sweater, his robes, and a winter cloak. James looked up, squinting against the whiteness of everything. A small, heavily layered form stood a few feet away, obviously shivering.
James's heart started thumping again, but this time in a slightly more pleasant way.
"A gentleman would give the lady his cloak if she's cold," Murphy commented. James could hear the smirk in his voice.
"A gentleman would be a lady if he froze his nadgers off," he deadpanned. "See you later, Murph."
"Have fun," Murphy replied jauntily - James felt the temperature drop even further as his friend left his side, taking away what little coverage he had from the wind.
James trudged forward, hearing his boots crunch in the ankle-deep snow with each footfall. He tried to call her name - but a gust of wind slammed into him at that moment, taking his voice, throwing it elsewhere. Frigid winter air rushed into his lungs, eliciting a cough. This, somehow, she heard. She turned around, and tried to break into a sprint. But the many layers that covered her made her body unwieldy. She tripped, over either her feet or the tightly packed snow underneath them, and began to teeter forward.
James reached out and caught her with her face buried in the middle of his cloak. She put her hands to his shoulders to right herself, and he finally got a good look at her. A few undulating strands of cinnamon-red hair were not covered by her hat, and teased her face between her blue eyes. Her lips were a bit cracked and chapped by the cold.
"Bad luck," James said. "Wasn't expecting a blizzard."
"Forget it," she said, and embraced him. The look she gave him did what the storm hadn't managed, and froze him for a moment. "We might as well go since we're already here."
So, gloved hand in gloved hand, they set off together toward their destination. Predictably, the hut's windowsills were covered with snow - but the roof, which had a smoking chimney, must have been giving off enough heat to melt the snow down as it fell. James raised a hand and gave the large, crudely made wooden door three sharp raps. With the thick gloves he was wearing padding his blows, he made a point to really put some shoulder behind them - almost like he was shooting a Quaffle.
"Comin'," a booming voice answered from inside the hut a second later. The front door to the hut, as big as a tree, gave way not long afterward, replaced by a man very nearly as large.
"James," Hagrid said, wearing a smile that was obvious even behind his bear pelt of a beard. He stepped away from the door, wordlessly inviting them inside. James, feeling the warmth of Hagrid's hut on his chest but winter's bite on his arse, didn't need telling twice - or even once. "It's been too long. Nice weather we're havin', innit? I assumed you wouldn't show. And you are…? Hold on… yeh look familiar…"
He was looking at Brynne, who was now (somewhat to James's surprise) removing her hat. She shook her red curls free.
"Professor Hagrid," she greeted him - but the half-giant put up a massive hand.
"Hagrid's jus' fine, we're not in class," he replied. "Yeh're… ah, blimey. Sorry, I've forgotten yer name."
"Brynne," she answered. "Brynne Walter. I'm in your Tuesday class. Third year."
James glanced at Brynne for a second. He hadn't even known which electives she had chosen. A pang of sadness caused his face to fall. After all this time, did he not know her anymore?
"Ah," Hagrid replied. "Thought I recognized yeh. Knew yeh were friends with James, but-"
Brynne smiled wordlessly, glancing back at James. To James's slight surprise, Hagrid picked up on it.
"Oh. I see." Hagrid stroked his beard. He gave a little bit of a chuckle and started back toward a corner of the hut that he used as his kitchen.
Brynne started to unbutton her cloak. Figuring he should do the gentlemanly thing, he stood behind her, held onto it as she let her arms free, and looked around. Finding a well-made wooden coat rack, he hung her cloak there, then removed his own and set it on another hook.
"Hate ter say it," Hagrid announced grimly, "but yeh caught me at a bad time. I didn' know a snowstorm was comin'..."
"I don't think anyone did," admitted James. "So much for Professor Sinistra's weather forecasts…"
"Ah, I wouldn' blame 'er." Hagrid's beard quivered with a kind chuckle. "Nature's fickle at even the best o' times. Anyway, I've got ter check on the hippogriff pen. Those whelps ain' built fer weather like this…"
"Whelp?" repeated Brynne perkily, brushing down a particularly linty patch of her green sweater. "You mean, like, a baby?"
"Right," Hagrid confirmed. "You 'member the egg I showed yer class right 'fore we left for the holidays? ...Well, it hatched. Right on New Year's mornin'. Named 'er Winter. Beau'iful girl. Fur an' feathers white as the snow. Come ter think of it, hope I haven't lost 'er in this…"
He punctuated the last comment, which he must have thought was amusing, with a chuckle.
"That's exciting," Brynne remarked, sounding very sincere. Sadly, James mused to himself that he'd had no idea about her interest in magical creatures, or that she had even signed up for the class. He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed. It sounded like her. Then again, they had spoken all of once at length since about May. "Will we be able to see her in class later?"
"No can do," Hagrid said emphatically, shaking his great, bushy head. "Not fer a while. Yeh remember how I said that lesson yeh should never insult a hippogriff? Well, that's the second worst thing you can do. The worst is getting too close to its babies if it don't know yeh - 'specially before three months. The parents barely trus' me around her and we've known each other fer years. Probably lookin' at next term 'fore I can even bring 'er around you lot…"
He set a kettle over a rack above what appeared to be coals that were, absent of any visible open flame, still glowing with an incandescent red-orange hue.
"So, I say all that ter say…" Hagrid sighed, walking toward the coat rack and yanking an overcoat as large as a bear pelt off it. "I've got ter go check on 'em, alone. If yeh're willing to wait here, I should be back 'fore too long."
"That's… fine," James answered.
Hagrid smiled.
"If that kettle over there," Hagrid pointed with his chin to the kettle he had just set on the flame in the corner, "gets ter squeakin' real loud, point yer wand at those coals and say, 'Finite Incendem.'" Putting his coat on (so large it was that it make an audible whoomph as he slung it around his massive frame), he added, almost desperately, "Please try not ter set the hut on fire."
"We won't," James reassured him, smiling.
"There's a good lad," Hagrid chuckled. "I'll be back in a mo'."
And he opened the door, paused for a moment to comment, "Blimey, it's cold," and exited, shutting the door behind them.
Silence. It took much too long for James to figure out what to say to Brynne then, to the point where he was simultaneously relieved and embarrassed when Brynne spoke first.
"That's a nice sweater," she commented, already at the table and sitting on one of Hagrid's massive chairs with her legs dangling inches (maybe a couple of feet, truth be told) above the ground. "Where'd you get it?"
"My grandmother. At Christmas," James answered, looking down at the scarlet sweater, which was accented with a stitched, golden letter 'J'. A faint blush rose on his cheeks. Monogrammed sweaters weren't typically the cutting edge of adolescent wizard fashion, but to hell with fashion when it was well below freezing outside with snow coming down roughly sideways. "She makes us one every couple of years… me and all of my cousins."
She jumped down from the chair and walked up to James. Her blue eyes widened. "All of your cousins?" she asked. "That's… what, a dozen sweaters?"
"Um…" James's face twisted. He was trying to remember how many Weasley cousins were in the family. Then, Brynne started tracing the 'J' on his sweater with one of her fingers, which didn't do much to help his focus. "Not quite. There's… eight of us? No, nine. Me, Al, Lily, then Rose and Hugo, then Roxanne and Freddy, Molly, Lucy… Victoire, Dominique, Louis. Bloody hell, you were right. It's an even dozen. Although I think she only makes them while her grandchildren are in school. Victoire graduated a couple of years ago, I think. And Molly and Lucy aren't old enough yet."
"I bet you always have family around when you're at home," mused Brynne, with what almost sounded like a tinge of envy. "Must be nice."
"It can get annoying." James scratched the back of his head. "If you really want to be by yourself. But Dad kind of insists on it. I think he wants to give me what he didn't have growing up…"
"Yeah…" Brynne uttered a bit distractedly. "He didn't really grow up with parents, either, did he? I forget that sometimes..."
She looked down.
James felt awkward. He didn't want Brynne to feel sad this entire time. "So… how are you?"
"I'm alright," Brynne answered. "Trying to figure out what, if anything, we can do about Wenster…"
"I don't care about Wenster," James interrupted firmly. This elicited a look and a slightly agape jaw from Brynne. "I mean… I do. But I'm more concerned about you."
"Is that why we haven't spoken properly since November?" asked Brynne.
"November?" James repeated.
Brynne shook her head. "I was being generous. I don't know if we've said much to each other since last year. I kinda thought, you know, now that we were finally..."
James turned away from her. "You gotta understand..."
"You can't shield me from everything, James."
This declaration from her was like a punch to the gut - an acknowledgement, however oblique, of his previous failure to do exactly that.
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But if I didn't at least try to make sure none of this blew back on you… you already see what he did with Lily and Hugo, and that's when he just thought I was against him. Now, he knows."
"I don't see the difference, honestly," Brynne replied, with a nonchalance that James thought was a bit alarming. "I'm a Slytherin. That's the only thing that would matter to him. He doesn't expect me to be on his side."
"...That's true," conceded James, clenching his jaw and pausing. "Still, though, if anything happened to you, I-"
"Look at me."
James hesitated, then mentally cursed himself. He turned around, and when he did, she was standing close, her blue eyes peering up into his. He felt his clenched fists relax as her hands slipped over them. "You know me, right?"
About half as well as I should, James thought sadly, staring back and saying nothing.
She dropped her arms, looking away from him.
"Having the memory of watching your mother's murder from your bed isn't an experience I'd wish on anyone," she said. "But it does teach you some things."
"Brynne…" James uttered sadly, at a loss to say anything further.
"There's nowhere that's truly safe all the time," she answered. "Even the places you think should be safe aren't always. So there's no reason some things should be scarier than others."
"But they are," James retorted.
"Of course they are. We're human beings," Brynne answered. "But that also means we're free to choose our own danger. At least, we should be."
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
A squeal came from the corner of the hut. James turned his head and noticed the pot that was atop the glowing coals, smoking heavily. Brynne started around him to go take care of it as Hagrid had instructed. Just when he was out of his reach, though, he caught hold of her hand…
She started to turn, and almost as soon as he saw the whites of her eyes, he leaned in and closed his own.
A sound escaped her, and then he felt a finger on his chin, pushing back gently.
"Wait," she said, and he opened his eyes to realize how badly he had missed. Very slowly, she tilted her own nose away and leaned forward again.
A content smile bloomed forth from her face when they broke apart. An odd thought passed through James's head in that silent moment, about how this had been the first time in two months and only the second time ever. With holidays, happenstance, and his own stubbornness keeping them apart, they were still short of wading depth in these uncharted waters. And that, like most everything else, had been somewhat his fault.
...But if Brynne was bothered at all by this, she wasn't showing it in the moment.
She backed away a step. "I know what I've chosen, and I know I don't regret it."
And, with one more warm smile, she turned around and walked to the boiling pot, pulling her wand and reciting the incantation Hagrid had given them. "Finite Incendem."
Slowly, the coals underneath the kettle started to lose their fiery, orange glow.
No sooner than she had cast the spell than the door swung open again. James's entire body tensed as a blast of icy wind ripped into the warmth of the hut. Its fingers tore through James's shirt and sweater for a brief second before disappearing behind Hagrid's massive form, which now filled the doorway again. His beard, which was already beginning to whiten, was now full of snow, giving him the look of someone that had aged thirty years in nearly as many minutes.
"Well, the hut's still standin', so that's good," Hagrid chuckled.
"How are the hippogriffs?" Brynne queried.
"Jus' fine," Hagrid announced happily. "They even built a nest for little Winter so she's all snug an' warm 'til this storm blows over. Right clever creatures, hippogriffs… ruddy stubborn sometimes, but clever an' beautiful…"
Brynne vacated the stove area, while James watched her wordlessly with a smile on his face. Ruddy stubborn sometimes, but clever an' beautiful…
Hagrid, humming a slightly off-key version of some tune or another, started to busy himself around the stove. "You two are in luck," he said, "I got a box or two of summat new from a friend o' mine in Luxembourg just this past Christmas. Been meanin' to try it out."
"Luxembourg?" repeated James.
"It's in Europe," Brynne informed him.
"Europe's a big place." James politely tried to convey that this information was only so helpful.
"It's near France," Hagrid replied from the other side of the small hut. Then, hedging his bet with a bit of uncertainty, he added, "I think. I figure if it's anything like French tea, it won' be half bad."
"It'll almost have to be better than Welsh tea," Brynne remarked, taking her seat at the table again. "Welsh tea isn't too impressive. At least, not to me."
"From Wales, are yeh?" asked Hagrid. Brynne nodded. "Me dad might'a had some Welsh in him, I think, from some ancestor or another. We weren't too far from Wales in the Wes' Country where I came up."
"I thought your father was a giant," Brynne commented. Then, hesitantly, she added, "I didn't mean to be rude, but…"
"Don' worry about it," Hagrid chortled, waving his bear paw of a hand. "Actually, it was my mum. Dad was a man, and a small'un at that. Don' ask how… I don' really know, either."
James, who wasn't about to ask the obvious question but was definitely thinking it, bit his lip to avoid letting out a laugh.
"Was?" inquired Brynne, catching the choice of words. "Is he… no longer…"
"Died... when I was about yer age, actually," confirmed Hagrid, a sad, wistful smile visible behind his salt-and-pepper mass of beard. "Thought I might've mentioned that at some point or 'nother…"
James knew that already; but this was (James assumed) Hagrid's first time talking to Brynne at length outside of class. Up until now, she had been just a student.
"I didn't know," Brynne replied. "That's me, too. My parents died when I was just a baby."
"Oh," Hagrid's voice rumbled sadly. "That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear that."
"My aunt took me in, though," Brynne answered, affecting her tone in an attempt to steer the conversation toward cheerier waters. "We've been living in Morgana's Orchard ever since."
"Morgana's Orchard," Hagrid repeated, giving his beard one long stroke. About seven seconds later (he had quite a bit of beard), he stated, "Heard of it, I think, but can't say I've been."
"That's most people, really…" acknowledged Brynne.
"James," Hagrid called, emerging from atop the stove and producing a tray with two steaming, comically large 'teacups' that essentially amounted to mugs. James approached, fighting down a laugh as he took the tray ("Careful, they're hot," Hagrid stated rather obviously) and ferried it over to the table very deliberately.
Noticing that there were only two mugs, he asked the obvious question. "Hey, Hagrid - where's yours?"
"Right here," Hagrid had just finished pouring his tea into a cracked mug that was, from what James could tell, not much smaller than James's own head. Somewhere below his navel, he felt his bladder spasm in fear. He'd probably explode if he drank that full mug's worth of tea - or anything else, for that matter; but, proportional to Hagrid's hands, it looked almost like a normal-sized cup.
James placed the tray with his and Brynne's tea on the table. He tried to cup his hands around one of the mugs for an easier grip, but yanked his hand back as the porcelain nearly seared his palm. He flexed his hand and muttered an oath.
"You alright?" Brynne asked, perking up from her leaning position against the armrest of Hagrid's chair.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just watch it with that mug, I think the water's still boiling," he answered. Brynne giggled. James noticed then how absurdly large these chairs were. Two people could probably fit, provided they didn't mind being a bit close. James began to take his own chair, but not one second after he had sat down did he notice Brynne giving him an overwrought, pathetically disappointed look. Then, as if knowing he still hadn't gotten the hint, she shifted as far over to one side of her chair as possible.
James climbed down from his own chair and jumped up to join her. His theory was right; the chair not only sat them both, but did so easily.
"I made it a bit too hot, didn' I?" Hagrid queried, walking over with his own huge mug in his hand, He sat opposite them with no climbing effort necessary, and even his large wooden chair gave a protesting creak as it took his considerable full weight. The mug found the table's surface with a large, low clank, and billows of steam were rising from its mouth like a chimney. "Sorry about tha'. This is too hot even for me."
"We can set them outside for two minutes," James answered offhandedly. "That'll cool them down."
Brynne laughed. As if on cue, a chill wind rammed the outer walls of the hut with a hiss.
"Yer parents know?" asked Hagrid after a bit of silence, looking at James. When he gave a questioning glance in reply, Hagrid then set his eyes pointedly on Brynne as a wordless answer.
James frowned. "No, not really. Haven't gotten around to it. I meant to tell them over the holidays but then Dad got a bit busy…"
"Busy?" replied Hagrid.
"You know, the whole Robards business?" asked James. "Or did you not hear about that?"
"Robards? Oh, yes, I heard about that," Hagrid replied, a dark expression crossing his bearded face. "Everyone has. They're tryin' to keep it quiet - make it out like he fell ill - but stuff like that don't stay quiet fer long. I 'magine yer dad's taking point on the case 'imself, some'un that important…"
He took a sip from his massive mug and set it back down on the table with a thud.
"So, how'd yeh two end up meeting?" queried Hagrid. "I mean… obviously, it was here at Hogwarts, but I couldn' help but notice… you're a Slytherin."
He glanced at Brynne.
"It's kind of a long..." James murmured.
"James got himself into a spot of trouble a couple of years ago," Brynne replied brightly, almost over him. James palmed his own face in shame. "So Professor Longbottom sent him to live with the Slytherins as a punishment. Which, I don't get what's so awful about our dungeons, I've always liked them, except for the fact it's so cold normally…"
"You've never spent much time in Gryffindor Tower," James answered. "Trust me, you'd prefer it."
"Maybe I can find out for myself one day," Brynne replied, smiling warmly.
Then her expression changed, like someone had flipped a switch. She leaned across the table - or at least as far as one as small as she was could lean across a table this size.
"Hagrid, can I ask you a question?" she queried.
Hagrid glanced at James for a moment, then at Brynne.
"I s'pose," he uttered in reply, obviously a bit confused.
"A friend of mine here at Hogwarts didn't find out he was a wizard until the day he turned eleven," she explained. "He doesn't know a lot about the wizard side of his family and was trying to find out some things. Based on some birthdates, he figures you might've gone to school with his great-grandfather."
James glanced at her, jaw agape. When had she found out about that?!
"I suppose I've gone ter school with a fair few of you kids' great-grandparents at my age," chuckled Hagrid. "Did yer friend give you a name?"
"Titus," Brynne revealed. "Titus Scrimgeour."
Hagrid's eyes widened. Brynne caught the expression.
"You knew him," Brynne asked, her own blue eyes glittering. "Didn't you?"
"Not terribly well," Hagrid admitted. "He was in Gryffindor, but a year above me. This was before you lot were born, but his younger brother was Minister of Magic fer a little bit..."
"And he had a sister, didn't he?" asked Brynne probingly. "A twin."
"Yes," Hagrid said, "in Ravenclaw. But…"
He trailed off, looking away and muttering to himself.
"Gallopin' gorgons, I would've fixed myself summat stronger if I'd known I was…"
"If you can't talk about it…" James piped in.
"I can… it's jus' not a happy story, what happened to 'er," replied Hagrid. "It was several years after we were all out o' school, and I only know bits an' pieces… but this was back when... You-Know-Who... was startin' ter gather power fer the first time. Claudia… well, you know how Ravenclaws are. Curious - some would even say nosy. And it was a girl in her house that died that first time, so I guess you couldn't blame her. But I guess… I guess she found out a little bit too much, and…"
Hagrid's voice shook terribly.
"You-Know-Who caught up with her, a few years after we were out of Hogwarts." Hagrid did not explain what happened after that. He did not need to. He shook his head. "...Tore Lucan to pieces. He loved that girl..."
"Lucan… you mean, Professor Wenster?" James uttered, shocked. A couple of things started to come together in his head...
"I think… that's enough of that story," Hagrid finally said.
"Please, Hagrid - one last thing," James found himself begging. Which was odd, because if it had been up to him, Wenster would not have come up at all this afternoon, and even two minutes prior, he had been mentally pleading that Brynne would stop her line of questioning. "You've been in his office, right?"
"Yes," Hagrid answered.
"There's a huge portrait there in his office - of a woman," James said very quickly. "White dress, long, blonde hair…"
Hagrid, with a gulp, nodded. "That's her. That's Claudia. Golden hair, as beautiful as beautiful could be. She'd never look my way, o'course… but he won her heart somehow. They were happy together. He was planning on askin' her. Y'know… to marry him. That was before…"
James had become focused on something near the front door. Just barely, he perceived a motion against the ground. Something thin, almost like a piece of string.
James leapt from the chair, drawing his wand and tearing across the hut.
"James?" called Brynne in concern.
"Hey, where ya goin'?" asked Hagrid gruffly. But James had crossed the hut in several sprinting steps and thrown the door open, running through it heedless of the bitter cold. His attempt to squint through the field of white turned up nothing, and his face and ears started to hurt terribly not three seconds in. His heart pounded within him. He could have sworn…
"James, what's wrong?" Brynne was mere feet behind him, but he could barely hear her over the swirling wind. He felt a surge of frustration as he realized that, if he had indeed seen someone or something, he would not be able to pursue or identify it now and, grinding his teeth, slid back inside.
"Merlin's beard, are yeh mad?" was Hagrid's first question, before the door had even closed. "Runnin' out there in a blizzard with no coat? What would I tell yer mum and dad if yeh froze solid on my watch?"
"Sorry," murmured James breathlessly. "I just… I thought I saw…"
"No one's out there," Brynne answered softly, taking his hand and trying to pull him away from the door. When he resisted, she shot back, "What, you think someone's eavesdropping from outside? There's no way they'd be able to hear anything through the door with all this wind."
James was then about to say something about how he knew of ways it could be done, but then his eyes caught hers, and the thought got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Lowering his voice so Hagrid couldn't hear them, he said, "I wish you hadn't asked."
"I had to," she replied at a whisper, which did nothing to help him feel better. There was a part of him that even wanted to be a bit irritated at her.
"The whole point of this…" James trailed off.
"Was for us to have some time together, right?" finished Brynne. "An hour or two, somewhere safe and secret. I can't, James."
"Can't… what?" asked James, his heart sinking into his stomach. Surely she didn't mean…
"...I can't settle for that anymore," she answered. "I refuse to," she added, her blue eyes practically lighting on fire as she looked up at him. "If there's the slightest chance anything I do can change things, I have to take it. For us. For everyone, but… especially us. I just need you to trust me."
James swallowed hard. "Fine. Just… enough questions for now, okay?"
Brynne conceded with a nod. Then she turned to Hagrid.
"I'm sorry… I was just curious, is all," she said.
"Why didn' yer friend come an' ask me himself?" he queried. "Jus' think that's odd…"
"Well, he tried the same thing with Madam Pomfrey a few days ago and it didn't end well," explained Brynne.
"Yeah, I 'magine not," Hagrid answered grimly, "Poppy - Madam Pomfrey, that is - and Claudia were close friends…"
Brynne started back to the table.
"I didn't mean to pry too much," Brynne said. "I just didn't think I could ask something like that during one of our classes."
"It's alrigh'... just caught me by surprise, that's all. I haven' heard anyone mention those two in years," Hagrid replied as Brynne settled into one side of her chair again. Hagrid looked over one of his massive shoulders. "You joinin' us or what? Tea's gettin' cold."
James smiled, and relaxed.
"Cold?" he quipped, walking back toward the table. "I seriously doubt that…"
The three of them shared a laugh (Hagrid's causing the walls of his hut to shake) and after that spoke no more about the world outside or its troubles. Hagrid regaled them with happier, more humorous tales, many of them involving James's own family. For example, there was the time James's uncles went into the forest on a dare to try to pluck a tail hair from a unicorn and ran afoul of both them and the centaurs... ("...An' anyone that knows a thing about wands knows you gotta hire a professional fer that job...")
James at last realized why it was that his parents continually insisted upon him visiting when he could. As large a group as the Weasley-Potter clan had become, it felt like he had gained or discovered a relation that he hadn't realized he was missing. Hagrid's love for the family to which James belonged was deep and dear, and even extended to the people close to them.
And between that and the tea, by the time Hagrid finally bowed the two from his hut so they could start back to the castle before it grew too late, they had more than enough warmth for the return trip.
Albus
THUMP, THUMP.
The door swung open with a creak, revealing white-clad, blonde Nurse Nadine.
"You cut it awfully close," she said, sounding relieved. "Visits close at eight."
"But only when class is in session the next day, right?" Sylvia piped up. "You don't seriously think Gladstone's gonna make us go to class in this, do you?"
"I imagine the outdoors things like Magical Creatures and Herbology will be cancelled, but if you're taking classes inside the castle, you'll be out of luck," Nadine replied. "Anyway, don't be too long." She stood aside and allowed them in. "Madam Pomfrey will probably be back soon."
Albus and Sylvia stepped across the threshold into the white-walled hospital wing. His eyes found Scorpius's bed, which was the first on the left - and to his great surprise, he wasn't alone.
He was sitting up, looking rather healthier than when Albus had last seen him. There was still the shadow of fatigue on his face and he looked very sad, almost on the verge of tears, but he didn't look sick anymore.
"I don't think you get it," he said to the petite girl sitting in the chair next to his bed.
"I'm the one that has to live it - of course I get it," she answered.
"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Scorpius. "If you knew, I mean…"
"I…" the girl looked down. "...thought you'd be better off not knowing. I didn't know how much your parents had said to you about it."
"They hardly ever tell me anything," Scorpius answered, and there was more than a hint of bitterness in his voice. "They didn't even tell me about you. Makes me wonder how much other stuff they're keeping from me. Maybe they've got more secrets - like, maybe my dad's not even my real dad..."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," the girl sighed dispassionately. "Have you looked in a mirror? You look just alike."
Scorpius sighed. "I guess that's good enough for everyone else, isn't it?"
There was a silence.
"I wish it was me instead," he finally mused sadly.
"You know she wouldn't want that," she replied. "And I don't, either. I've got few enough people I can trust as is…"
Scorpius frowned. "Lena…"
"I know what you're going to say," she said. "It's stupid and I should just get over it. And you're probably right. But it's not that easy."
Scorpius didn't respond.
"What did you say earlier?" Lena questioned. "You wish you could help us and you feel powerless? Well, that's how I feel, too. So maybe you can understand that."
Scorpius swallowed hard. "You should go. They still don't like us walking the halls on our own…"
"I'll be fine," Lena replied. "You should open that."
She was looking at something on the windowsill near Scorpius's bed.
"Do you know who sent it?" asked Scorpius, eyeing the item, which Albus couldn't quite make out from here.
"No idea," Lena answered hastily. "But I figure whoever did cares." She reached out and patted Scorpius's cheek. "Don't you start shutting out people that care too, okay?"
Scorpius didn't respond. Lena stood and turned to leave, walking past Albus and Sylvia with a polite smile and nod of acknowledgment. Meanwhile, Scorpius stared blankly at the opposite wall for a moment before turning to look at Albus and Sylvia.
"You came," he said.
"Did you think we wouldn't?" asked Albus.
"I don't know, I just…" Scorpius shook his head and trailed off. Albus approached his bed, Sylvia following a couple of steps behind him.
"How are you feeling?" asked Albus.
"Awful," Scorpius answered bluntly. "My mum…."
He couldn't get the rest of the words out and swallowed hard.
"Did something happen to her?" asked Sylvia. "Is she ill?"
"Not anymore," Scorpius answered, shaking his head. "She's better now, but it's probably… we may not be so lucky next time…"
"Why do you say that?" asked Albus.
Scorpius drew himself up and gulped. "It's a curse. A blood curse. The women on my mum's side of the family are cursed with ill health and early deaths… it's run in her bloodline for centuries." Then, with a bitter scoff, he added, "It's ironic, really. All because one ancestor made a bad decision and pissed off the wrong people. And my mum and Lena and Tania have to pay for it when they didn't do anything…"
Albus frowned, angry at himself for having no idea what to say.
"When I was growing up, my dad spent half his time shut up in our library, poring over books and researching magical artefacts. I thought it was just a hobby of his, but now it all makes sense…"
"...That's why you came back, isn't it?" Albus queried.
Scorpius nodded. Then his fists clenched. "I hate it here. But I promised her. I have to keep at least one promise in my life, don't I?"
His voice broke.
"You've got an envelope," replied Sylvia, pulling a red envelope from the windowsill near Scorpius's bed. "Lena?"
"No," Scorpius asked, shaking his head. "She brought it but it wasn't from her. Someone left it on her nightstand for me… but we don't know who..."
"You haven't even opened it," Sylvia noted. Placing it on Scorpius's lap, she cajoled, "Go on…"
Scorpius glanced at Sylvia, then Albus, and then at the envelope.
Albus blurted out, "Wait, hold on…"
Both Scorpius and Sylvia looked at him. "What's wrong?" the latter asked.
"It…" Albus trailed off, ashamed of what he was thinking. "...It might have some sort of jinx on it. You know how people are…"
Sylvia frowned. "I don't think Lena would bring Scorpius a cursed envelope," she said seriously.
"Not on purpose," Albus qualified.
Sylvia sighed loudly, chewing her lip as she thought. A few seconds later - "Eff it."
She pulled the envelope from Scorpius, who eyed it with worry.
""Hey, Sylvia, wai-" Albus started, but it was too late. Sylvia was already ripping the envelope open. She unfolded a piece of parchment, and eyed it for several moments. Albus's pounding heart slowed down as time passed as he realized that nothing particularly interesting was happening.
"Aww," Sylvia mewled uncharacteristically, giving the opened letter to Scorpius. "That's sweet. Who's 'L'?"
Scorpius shook his head. "Dunno." Then, he went to read the letter himself. His gray eyes began to glaze over as they darted from one side of the parchment to the other. "I…"
He sat the parchment down, the same glazed look on his face. Briefly, he shook his head.
"What kind of person…" he muttered after a while, seeming to be asking himself this question. Whatever the question was, Albus didn't hear the second part of it.
"...A secret admirer? Maybe?" Sylvia hypothesized.
This drew a scoff from Scorpius. "Secret admirer. Right."
"I'm being serious," Sylvia answered, sounding wounded. "'I've been watching you for a while'? That sounds like a secret admirer, right?"
She looked up at Albus, who started feeling hot around the face for some reason. "I don't know," he murmured. To him, that sounded a bit more like a stalker. Though, he supposed, the only difference between a secret admirer and a stalker was semantics - and maybe whether the person being stalked or admired actually liked the attention.
Then again, all of that could have been completely wrong. It wasn't as if he was an expert on those sorts of subtleties, after all…
He wordlessly shrugged. Sylvia didn't seem completely satisfied with this answer, as her face fell just a bit. Before Albus could dwell on it much, though, Sylvia had turned back to Scorpius.
"It's a daft idea," Scorpius answered with a morose dismissiveness.
"Why's that?" Sylvia asked almost immediately after.
Scorpius grimaced and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he thought the answer to this question should have been obvious. "It's me," he said. "Whoever sent this…" He held the letter up, then carelessly tossed it back onto the bed. "...obviously doesn't know me very well."
Sylvia stood. "Or maybe they know the real you that nobody else does."
This stumped Scorpius. "What?"
Sylvia shook her head. "Never mind. But we're going to help you find this person."
This stumped Albus. "...We are?"
"Sure. Why not?" asked Sylvia with a smile.
"Honestly, I don't care that much," said Scorpius.
"Well… you should," Sylvia countered. "Honestly, if there's some girl that fancies you here at Hogwarts, wouldn't you want to at least meet her? You know Valentine's Day is in a few weeks."
Scorpius gave a noncommittal grimace - then a sigh. "I guess, I mean, it's just… I've got other things on my mind right now."
Albus couldn't really blame either of them - Sylvia for wanting to do something that might have the potential for putting a smile on Scorpius's face, Scorpius for not having the emotional range to respond at the moment. Sylvia's face fell, seemingly recognizing that Scorpius wasn't buying what she was selling.
She stepped back and away from him. Shaking her head, she stormed past Albus and out of the hospital wing entirely, leaving Albus and Scorpius there alone.
"You know she's not going to drop it," Albus finally told him.
"I know," Scorpius answered, vaguely glancing down at the letter again and shaking his head.
"...Are you feeling any better?"
Scorpius shook his head. "I sleep alright. But that's about it. My head hurts all the time, like someone's got me by the sides of it, just -" and he held his hands a bit apart and pushed them inward forcefully. "I can hardly keep food down, either. It's like my stomach's in a knot. I can't…"
He paused.
"I can't stop thinking about it, Albus," he finally said weakly. He shook his head again. "Like, Greta or Boyd or Longbottom pulling me out of class one of these days and telling me…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
"We don't know that'll happen," Albus said - it was the most comforting thing he could think of at the moment.
Scorpius gulped. "I know it will. Because it's me. We have our own type of curse on us, I think."
Albus figured out that Scorpius was talking about the Malfoys. "That's got nothing to do with you, though."
"But I can't get away from it, either, can I?" Scorpius asked. "Just like you can't ever get away from being a Potter. You can't even avoid being good at dueling. As much as you've tried."
Albus didn't meet his eye. He didn't know Scorpius had heard about that, but it was only a matter of time, he supposed. There had to have been a few dozen students in the courtyard that night, and Hogwarts wasn't that large…
"I guess that was the whole problem, right? You've gotta do things straight-up. That's the Potter way," he said. With a bitter smile, he added, "No wonder you couldn't trust me."
"That's because I didn't get it," Albus piped up. "I didn't know what it felt like to feel like you had to do something, even if you knew the people around you might not understand it - even if you weren't completely sure it was the right thing to do…"
He sat down in the chair next to Scorpius's bed.
"Sometimes you do the best you can and people still get hurt and hurt others because they're people," he sighed.
There was silence between them for a moment.
"If…." Scorpius spoke first - one word, haltingly. "If…"
He stopped again.
"If the worst happens…" Scorpius said, his voice cracking and shaking horribly. "...with my mum…"
He paused again. Albus gave him his time.
"I…" he stopped. "When… when we… say goodbye… I'm going to… I mean… I want… if you can make it…"
"She may not die," Albus tried to reassure him.
"But she might," Scorpius answered. "And… if I have to face that alone... " At last, his gray eyes, swimming with and leaking tears, made contact with Albus's green ones.
Albus stood and put his hand on Scorpius's shoulder. He looked up, almost as if surprised. Albus tried to remind himself that, if the world had beaten him bloody as it had done Scorpius the last several months and years, he might find himself surprised to have a true friend, too.
"You won't be alone," Albus said. "That's a promise."
It was a promise he hoped not to have to keep.
"Alright," Nadine's voice rang from behind Albus as she approached. "Time's up. All visitors out."
Albus sighed. "Rest up. Maybe they'll let you out tomorrow?"
The look Scorpius gave Albus in return was pathetically broken, almost as if asking, I guess I don't have a choice, do I?
Albus couldn't think of a better goodbye than that, so he turned on his heel and left. The Hospital Wing was atop a tower and opened to a long, spiraling staircase.
She was so still leaning against the wall that he very nearly walked right by her. But he did stop. Her head was down, looking vaguely to the side. After a moment, she buried her face in her hands…
Then, throwing them back up over her face and head, smoothing back her dark, curly hair, she looked up at Albus with a weak smile. Albus could see the telltale shine in her eyes, though. Albus reached out for a moment, then pulled his hand back. He dared not touch her, lest she misunderstand - or, worse, understand perfectly. So he let his arms dangle awkwardly by his sides. "You care. Just like I do. That's a good thing."
"It doesn't feel good," Sylvia replied sadly.
Albus grimaced, then looked away and started down the stairs…
He let out a yell of surprise as he found another person, who hadn't been there before, practically in his chest already. Whoever it was - a girl by the length of the hair - hadn't been looking either, and let out a similar cry, teetering backward. Instinct spurred Albus to reach out. He clutched hold of a brown-skinned wrist.
The girl finally looked up at him, their eyes studying each other. He recognized her…
"Oh, it's you…" she uttered.
"Watch where you're going," said Albus by way of an admonition.
"Sorry, Dad. God…" the girl groused, yanking her hand away from him, and then began muttering to herself.
Suddenly, Albus found himself jostled. Sylvia had stepped between him and the girl, pointing her wand at her. The other girl's own hand went to her pocket.
"What are you doing here, Lilith?" asked Sylvia rather aggressively. "And don't lie."
"'Don't lie'," repeated Lilith mutinously. "Like you've got the right. It's none of your business. I don't want anything with you and your boyfriend, so leave me alone."
"That's not good enough," Sylvia said.
"Can you not? With the wand?" Lilith sighed, pushing Sylvia's extended arm away from her face. "Seriously. I'm just here to visit someone."
"Well, you might as well turn around, then. You're too late," Sylvia said. Lilith's shoulders lowered in very obvious disappointment.
"What time is it?" she asked, not meeting any of their eyes.
"Past eight," replied Albus.
Lilith's face contorted in rage and she looked away from both of them. "Damn it," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. "Guess I'm out of luck. Hopefully…"
She trailed off and then, very oddly, took off down the stairs without a further sound.
Albus did a bit of a double take. She had obviously been moving, and quickly. This time, he had seen her. But he hadn't heard her either time. How could she have gotten so close without someone noticing…?
"Should I Trip Jinx her?" Sylvia asked at a mutter. "I just learned it…"
"No," Albus replied firmly. "Why do you treat her like that?"
Sylvia looked at Albus like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "She set the Great Hall on fire two years ago and almost killed everybody…?"
Albus frowned. "You sure it's that simple?"
Sylvia tilted her head quizzically.
Albus looked away from her. "I'm just saying… nothing else is around here."
Sylvia grimaced thoughtfully, but never answered the question. "We should head back."
She started down the stairs. But Albus didn't set off after her immediately. A lightbulb going off in his brain froze him in his tracks. But… no… couldn't be…
Sylvia turned around. She was smiling. "Are you coming or what? We can't hang around here."
Offering a smile back and putting the thought from his mind for now, Albus followed.