Chapter 28: The Hall of Ashes

"You absolutely sure, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm alright."

James had forgotten what the date and year were; he remembered the last day of February because of an Ancient Runes examination he'd had scheduled. The following day, he had assumed to be the first of March, until Murphy reminded him about what Professor Sinistra had said the previous Wednesday when he was barely awake in Astronomy class:

This year, 2020, was a Leap year. Thus, February had an extra day. Today - the twenty-ninth.

If that weren't enough, James had completely forgotten that a Quidditch match was scheduled for today. Ravenclaw versus Slytherin - maybe? He couldn't remember. He didn't really care. In any case, he found that morning that could not bring himself to go down to the pitch and watch with most of the rest of Hogwarts. It was odd - a bit like a close friend of his had died, and here he was, being peppered with constant requests to go by that friend's headstone for a visit. Maybe one day, he thought, staring blankly at the steaming soup he'd chosen for his lunch, but not today.

The Valentine's Day Social had not been put back on as many had dreamed. They had received a consolation dinner of sorts - an awkward affair. Valentine's Day, unlike Hallowe'en or perhaps Christmas, wasn't associated with any particular food; so it was more like a normal Friday dinner with pink and white balloons and heart-shaped chocolates for dessert. James and Brynne made the best of it, looking around at the rest of their student body with interest. Freddy was newly single, it seemed. He'd come by asking if James had seen Roxanne anywhere. Apparently she had gone missing. James just supposed she'd stayed back in the common room or was off in the library studying. The more James thought about it, the more he realized he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her talking to any boys - except for Tommy Jordan, who was more like another brother to her than anything.

Malcolm and Gladstone were at the staff table together (not like that was any different than any other day). The new Charms teacher, Professor Crawford, was several seats away by herself, cutting into her roast beef with much more force than was necessary. James joked to Brynne and Murphy that Crawford might have been imagining his face in place of the roast beef; that morning in Charms, he had gotten a death glare and a very snarky response when he had dared to refer to her as a 'sub' within her earshot. Apparently she was very sensitive about being treated like a fill-in. Not that James would have known that.

It wouldn't have been such a big deal, that little quip - but it had genuinely made Brynne laugh. And that had made James' entire night. He wasn't sure he'd heard her laugh much, if at all, since that evening in Neville's office. Neville, who typically wasn't there much on weekends anyway, had left at noon that day (which was a Friday). When a curious girl in James's year, Betha Darden, asked Neville to explain, he sheepishly said something about needing to help with baby Alice while his wife, Hannah, made sure all of the beds at the Leaky Cauldron were in good condition.

That had gone a bit over James's head until Murphy explained it later.

That was a good night. The memory brought a rare smile back to his face. He could hear her laugh again in the ears of his mind; he could almost hear her voice calling his name… once, then again, as close as if she was right next to him.

He felt the sleeve of his shirt tighten around his elbow as if something was pulling at it from the other side. He looked over slowly…

"G'morning." Her voice, as usual, was light, with that songlike inflection typically indigenous to Welsh speakers of English. Her hair hung loose today, a cloud of wild cinnamon-copper curls falling to her shoulders. "Knut for your thoughts?"

"Just… about Valentine's Day," James admitted. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured you'd be here - why else?" Brynne replied sunnily. This got James to smile a bit. It went away quickly, though. It was like a cloud was hanging over him today. James stared at the soup and finally took a mouthful, not talking. Something on the inside of his throat choked him, and he had to look away from her. He focused on the staff table, where he saw blue-robed Professor Halim look down at what James was assuming was his own lunch.

"Do you regret what you did?" Brynne queried.

"No - of course not," James answered immediately, defiantly. "And if I'd had it to do over again, I'd do the same thing, it's just…"

He trailed off.

"I miss it," he finally admitted after several more seconds of silence. "Way more than I thought I would."

"Quidditch, you mean?"

James nodded wordlessly.

There was an exhalation then; almost like a breath of laughter, of amusement. James looked at her, and she was wearing a wistful smile, looking down at the wood of the table. "I remember the day you tried out for the team."

"You remember that?" asked James.

"Of course I do," Brynne answered, as if it would have been offensive for her not to remember. "That was the first time we really talked. That morning, before your tryout." Her smile returned. "You weren't in a good mood. You were tired of staying with us. I came to the tryout, remember?"

It came flooding back. "I remember," he said. With a smile, he added, "Your disguise was awful."

"I was a first year," Brynne replied petulantly. "I was doing the best I could with what I had."

James finally laughed. "You've always done that."

"I guess," Brynne said uncertainly. "Hey, listen…"

This got James's attention.

"Yes?" he asked.

Brynne bit her lip. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Um… no," James replied, a little bit puzzled.

Brynne sighed. "Maybe that wasn't the right question. Is there anything… you don't want to tell me?"

James's face tightened - an almost reflexive grimace until he took control of it. But Brynne breathed out a laugh.

"Forget it," she said. "I'm being barmy. It's just… when I was on the way here, I ran into Professor Trelawney. You know how she is. She stopped me in the hall to do a 'reading'. Apparently she's got these new Astrology cards..."

"Let me guess - she told you you were gonna die next Friday?" James quipped.

Brynne let out a huff of a laugh in amusement. "Nope. Still haven't gotten that one, actually."

She wouldn't, thought James. She didn't take Divination. Not that James even knew this until recently, but her two elective classes were Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, and Muggle Studies. Both kind of made sense for Brynne, James thought. The latter in particular might have offered some insight to how her father and his side of the family might have lived. She had a picture of him - he had been a tall man with dark hair - but was too young to have remembered much more of him before he was murdered.

"So… how's Muggle Studies?" asked James, trying to start conversation.

"Interesting. We're doing a bit of British Muggle history," Brynne replied, which elicited a scoff from James.

"I hope that's more interesting than British wizard history," he commented.

"A shade," Brynne replied. Professor Binns, the school's only ghost teacher, taught History of Magic in a soporific drone that had become infamous over wizarding Britain. Given that Binns had already been dead "at least twenty years" when James's grandparents attended (their words), it was a reasonably safe bet that everyone living who had schooled at Hogwarts had been forced to sit through his slumber-inducing lectures. "They get into lots of wars. The Muggles, I mean. Seems like they get into a new war every twenty, thirty years or so."

James frowned. "It's not like wizards are much better, is it?"

"No, you're right," Brynne acknowledged. "It's just a human thing, I guess."

James swallowed. Cautiously, he started to ask, "You ever wonder sometimes if it's worth it?"

"Of course not," Brynne answered firmly. James was a bit relieved. She'd reacted to that question better than he thought she would. "That's how you end up…"

She trailed off.

"That day…" she started again. James shook his head, almost in reflex.

"I don't want to talk about it," he choked, feeling his throat clench and his eyes water. But then he felt her hand slide over the back of his own with a gentle touch. He tried to focus on that sensation - that feeling, instead of the echoes of tortured screams he still heard in his head whenever someone brought that horrible afternoon to mind…

Somewhat fortunately, a loud THUD on the table brought his mind back out of his downward spiral. He glanced over to Brynne and found her fist pressed against the table. It shocked him. Brynne was typically very controlled - a bit alarmingly so, James thought. She was always, always, very passionate and yet almost never reacted out of anger. Even when James thought it might have been appropriate. It seemed at the moment, though, that Brynne had even shocked herself. She slid her hands off the table and down into her lap.

"Don't…" Brynne seemed to be having trouble with her words too - another uncommon occurrence. "Don't make me watch you keep punishing yourself."

This took James aback. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know," Brynne answered, a sadness in her blue eyes as she returned his gaze. "You've been beating yourself up ever since last spring. I mean… honestly, you're always sort of doing that. I guess it's a Potter thing?" she surmised, a hint of a smile finally teasing her lips. "You all like to take the world on your shoulders because you think, if you can do that, nobody else will have to."

James heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes a bit. It felt like he heard some variation of the same damn thing every day from one person or another. The bowl of soup in front of him scraped roughly against the wood of the table as he pushed it away with his free hand; he'd lost what was left of his appetite a while ago, honestly.

"Lily's the same way," Brynne remarked.

James dug his knuckles into his forehead in frustration. "You've been talking to her?"

"Someone has to," Brynne said solemnly. James grit his teeth. That one hurt. "You've been avoiding her."

"I have not been avoiding her," James finally said, unable to let this accusation go. "I've just been… busy. That's all. And I know she wouldn't want me hovering around anyway. She's her own person."

"At least you get that much," Brynne conceded. "So, do you honestly think that if you didn't teach her how to duel, she wouldn't learn another way?"

"She's too - young," insisted James. "I'm supposed to be looking out for her. That's the job Dad gave me."

"How is not teaching her to look out for herself keeping her safe?" asked Brynne seriously.

James, now quite irritated, looked away from Brynne. "You sound like Malcolm." Brynne's jaw unhinged in wordless shock for a moment, but she closed it, and swallowed hard. Back in control again. "Sorry…" he murmured, knowing his last comment had been a bit too close to the bone. "It's just… what business has she got trying to duel anyone at all?"

Brynne didn't answer immediately - only regarding James with a piteous look.

"She hasn't said much about what happened that day, has she?"

"Of course not - would you want to talk about it?" asked James. He folded his hands over his mouth and sat silently for a while, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "It's not like I don't care. She's my sister. I love her more than anything in the world. But if she's not ready to talk about what happened, I'm not going to hurt her worse by forcing her."

"...She feels a lot worse about what happened to Tellius and Karyn, you know…" Brynne revealed after a moment. "She blames herself for it."

James blinked, nonplussed. "Karyn? Who's Karyn?"

"Karyn Harper?" Brynne uttered, astounded. "She's in Lily's room? They're friends… don't any of you tell any of the others anything?"

This question froze James for a moment. He hadn't talked at length with Lily since the holidays. He had assumed - correctly - that she was cross with him. As for Albus… well, they hadn't spoken much either. It already felt like, the closer James was to any of them - and the closer James was to Brynne, for that matter - the further they would be dragged into his problems, his fights. And that was the last thing he wanted.

"I...well...no, not really. There's… I mean, you know… there's just...too much going on," James reasoned. "Once everything is over, we'll…"

"So Wenster's made you afraid to talk to your own family?" Brynne queried.

"You don't get it," James said.

"Of course I get it," Brynne snapped back at him. "He's made you afraid to talk to me, too. Don't think I haven't noticed. I see your eyes - you keep looking at the Great Hall doors wondering if he's going to walk in and see us together. You're scared."

"I'm not scared of him," James answered firmly. "Not for me. He's… he's already gone after Lily once just to get at me. If you knew -"

James trailed off, literally biting his tongue. He'd almost said too much. If he's capable of everything I think he is… there's no way I can take that chance. Not with you. Not with her.

But then Brynne stood.

"Come with me," she exhorted.

"Wh-where?" James stammered, not sounding at all like himself.

"The Astronomy Tower," she offered. "I go up there to think sometimes."

James shook his head. Glancing away from Brynne in shame, he countered, "It's too out in the open."

"Fine, then," Brynne replied quickly. Much too quickly. Almost as if she'd been expecting that answer. "Somewhere else."

Glancing back at the staff table (Professor Halim dropped his head to his plate with suspicious quickness… or maybe that was just James paranoia talking) and back at the tall double doors that served as the entrance to the Great Hall, he slowly nodded, not to anyone in particular, and stood.

And it was thus that he found himself alone with her in the corridor on the seventh floor of the castle - the hallway with the statue of Barnabas the Barmy.

The entrance to the Come and Go Room.

James had not been up here since that fateful November Sunday afternoon. Even now, the corridor, though silent and deserted, made James feel uneasy - like someone would pop around a corner at any moment and start firing curses at them…

It didn't help that the door that would have led, presumably, to some semblance of safety, was no longer there, replaced instead by the rest of the plain walls.

James swallowed hard. "We're in the right place, right?" he finally questioned, unable to help himself.

"Of course we are - just… wait a second," Brynne implored him in response. She was, somewhat bizarrely, stroking the spot on the wall where the door would have been. After a few moments contemplating the solid brick, she stepped back from it and, with a bit of skip, approached James until the two were face to face.

Well, more or less. James was still quite a bit taller than she was. She stood on her tiptoes…

"Hmm?" a sound tried to escape from James's now blocked lips. "W-what was that for?" he asked, feeling his face heat up a bit as she shrank back to her usual height. Brynne offered no answer - only a smile.

"Can you… turn around?" she asked. "Face the other way?"

This was strange, James thought - even for Brynne. "What? Why?"

"The Room responds to thoughts," she explained, now putting her hands on his shoulders and guiding him to turn around. "If we're both looking at it and thinking… well, imagine if two people were shouting different directions at you at the same time. It'd be really confusing, wouldn't it?"

"Y-yeah," James stammered. He was going to defer to her on this, seeing as he hadn't the foggiest bloody clue how this room worked.

James heard the clacking of Brynne's footsteps behind him. She seemed to be pacing from side to side. Just then, something occurred to him.

"You're wearing shoes," he remarked. It wouldn't have been something he'd have brought up for anyone else - but for Brynne, it wasn't normal.

Her reply was short, simple, and unexpectedly, crushingly sad.

"This isn't home."

James bit his lip and tried to swallow away the vice that was choking him all of a sudden. Somehow, she didn't need to say any more than that - and he knew exactly what she meant.

So, although he was unsure whether he could deliver on such a promise, he made it anyway, because he knew it would comfort her: "We'll get it back."

She took his hand. "I know we will."

She was confident... much more confident than he was.

Brynne's grip on his hand tightened, and he heard a rumbling behind him from the wall. He kept his eyes trained on the statue of Barnabas the Barmy until the noise stopped.

"You can look now," Brynne told him. He turned around slowly. Before them, where blank wall had once been, was now a tall, ornate door that James barely recognized.

"I asked the Room for a place to hide something," Brynne explained.

"Hide something?" James questioned.

"That's what we're doing, right?" asked Brynne, her face showing a spark of disappointment. She started forward and James came with her, his hand still in hers. James pushed the door open when they reached it. It gave way with surprising ease for something that was so obviously large and heavy, almost as if it had responded to his touch rather than his strength. Nonetheless, the weight of it was heard as it creaked and rumbled ominously, the guttural sounds echoing into the new room.

"What in the…"

One thing became immediately apparent as they found their way through the threshold - this was not the room that had greeted either of them last time.

This place was dimly lit, its few colors muted by grays. A rancid smell hit James's nostrils on the first breath of this room's air. He felt an awful tickle in his nose and throat, and could taste tiny fragments of something oddly foul on the air.

"This is-" Brynne tried to speak next to him but could not finish the sentence as a wave of violent coughing overtook her.

"Are you alright?" James asked with concern as she doubled over, still hacking furiously. After a few moments, she mercifully righted herself. She let out an uncomfortable groan, but nodded.

"The air in here's awful," she choked out.

"Yeah, I noticed," James agreed, looking up and around again. "Just what the hell is this place?"

Brynne took a shallow breath - but then started coughing a second time.

"Don't try to talk," James advised, now genuinely worried.

But Brynne took another breath and told him, "I'm fine. There's just…"

"A lot of ash," James finished, noticing that his black shoes were already turning a shade of gray after a few steps on this floor. "Soot…" he took note of the particles in the air - those, he guessed, were what was making breathing so difficult. "There was a fire in here. Huge one."

Brynne stifled another cough… then sneezed so badly that she recoiled. Still, though, as she looked back at James, she managed a weak smile. "Bubble-Head Charm would be nice right about now."

"Too bad I haven't learned that one yet," James lamented.

"Really?" groaned Brynne, sounding legitimately disappointed. "I thought fourth years…"

"We would have - but we're weeks behind," James explained. "Didn't have a Charms teacher for a month and a half, remember? Panel meeting? Flitwick's heart stopped?"

"Yes, yes, I know," sighed Brynne. He watched her blue eyes dart around, taking in the room.

"This isn't the same place we were before, is it?" asked James - half-statement, half-question. "Did somebody try to burn it down while we were gone?"

"No, I think it's a different room."

"It can't be a different room," protested James. "It's the same place, right? Seventh floor, opposite the statue of Barnabas the Barmy -"

"No, it's the same Room," Brynne tried to explain. "It's just a different 'room.'"

James had no response for this except silent confusion, and eventually a "...What?"

Brynne let go of his hand, and walked forward. So thick was the ash on the ground that even her footsteps were muffled.

"We've been trying to find out more about the Room of Requirement since November," Brynne explained. "This isn't the same place as the room we found - and it's not the same place Malcolm brings the students for practicals. But they all go from the same door in the same spot in the castle. Why is that? What we figured out… or Rowan and Serra did, anyway…"

She turned.

"Some people believe in multiple universes - like, multiple timelines where things happened differently," Brynne said. "Like… somewhere in an alternate reality, you didn't attack Scorpius Malfoy in your second year. So Professor Longbottom didn't have to punish you by sending you down to Slytherin's dungeon. So we didn't meet the way we did. Or maybe we never really talked at all."

"Sounds bloody miserable," James muttered offhandedly. Brynne, though she was seemingly trying to be serious and didactic for a moment, couldn't help but smile. "So you're saying that for every choice every person ever made, there's a whole new universe?"

"Some people think that," Brynne replied.

James shook his head. "How many decisions does a person make during the course of a day? Just thinking about that makes my brain hurt. So… what's that got to do with this Room?"

"Well… we were trying to figure out - does the Room respond differently to every person that ever comes to it with a request? And does it respond differently to every request?" Brynne said. "And… I don't think so. Not if it doesn't have to."

"How'd you come up with that?" James asked.

"Last time, I asked for a room that would help us fight back," she explained. "And we got - well, you saw. Except… someone had been there before we were."

James did remember, now that he thought about it, the air in that well-lit hall being rather dusty; as if the place was not new, but returning to use after months or years of being idle. "How do you know?"

"Professor Longbottom recognized that room," answered Brynne. James tilted his head, a bit confused. She bit her lip. "Don't you wonder how Professor Longbottom knew to show up right when the Panel meeting was starting, even from the other side of Britain?"

James's jaw unhinged. He had wondered, and had held his suspicions. "That was you. You really are…"

"Lucky," Brynne finished. "I - we… were lucky. It was a long shot."

James heaved a sigh. "It's all a long shot. So are you saying that the castle has… I don't know - memories?"

"I guess that's the best way to put it," Brynne replied after some thought. "See, this castle - the Founders built… on top of it, I guess. Something was here before. Something that already existed."

"Yeah, I remember someone saying something like that…" James muttered. "Halim. It was Professor Halim. He said a lot of the magic in this castle may be older than the school itself. But that still doesn't really explain…"

"A Pensieve? That's your solution?"

A girl's voice called from somewhere further into the room. Brynne and James exchanged glances, both recognizing it.

"That's Serra," James remarked. "Did you ask her to meet you here?"

"No," Brynne answered in reply, and the look on her face got James's attention. He took the lead as they ventured further in, around mounds of trinkets mixed into piles of ash. Gold, damaged books, and more than a handful of items James could have sworn he'd pulled out of the stockroom at his uncles' shop the summer prior. Some of the things were quite new. Others were old, clearly damaged if not destroyed completely by whatever fire had taken place in here.

"You're missing the point," Serra's voice snapped.

"Hey - whoa, whoa!" another boy's voice shouted suddenly. Something must have happened. James quickened his pace. They came upon the remnants of a fallen pillar - just around it, they could see a gathering of students.

Serra Paxton was indeed there, along with her… boyfriend? James wasn't quite sure what that situation was. But she and Mark Albertine both had their wands drawn and trained on another figure that was obscuring its face with a mask.

"Really?" this figure replied in a feminine voice. "Then why don't you tell me what the point is since you know everything?"

Serra dropped her wand. "You're attacking a symptom of the problem."

"I'm trying to get justice," the other figure answered. When she began speaking again, it was in a breathless, almost frenzied tone. "If that Pensieve has evidence that he ordered the attacks in November, we can use that to have him sacked from Hogwarts - even…"

"Brilliant. And then what?" Serra interrupted. "We wait ten, twenty, fifty years until something like this happens again?"

"It won't happen again," the other figure replied.

Serra shook her head. "You want to kill a tree, you have to kill it at its root. If someone's going to make that door, it's going to be us." She drew her wand.

"Serra," Mark Albertine said warningly.

"Aren't you the one who said we can't stall and play games any more?" asked Serra, glancing at Mark. This was a different Serra than the one James remembered. When she spoke again, addressing the figure in the robe and mask, her voice was icy. "I didn't come here to destroy a man. I came here to destroy the ideas and traditions that make men like him. You need to understand this about me: I - am - on - a - mission. And I'm not going to have that... fouled up by your…. petty revenge quest. Now, move, or I will move you."

"I decided a while ago that nobody was going to move me," the other figure replied with an alarming lack of tone. "But go ahead and try it if you like."

Serra trembled for a moment. Then she leveled her wand.

"Serra, no!" Mark shouted - but Serra was not listening.

"Stupefy!"

The masked figure seemed caught off guard for a moment, as if not sure Serra would actually go through with an attack. But in a fierce voice, it returned fire: "Stupefy!"

The red jets of light collided. One shot toward the ceiling, but the other…

"Damn!" James groaned, instinctively putting his hand on Brynne's head and forcing it downward as he ducked himself. The scarlet Stunning Spell seared through the air directly above them, right through the spot where their eyes had been peering over the downed broken column. There were a few shouted incantations that followed. Near the ground, though, James was close enough to whisper in Brynne's ear. "We gotta get out of here."

"No," Brynne answered immediately. "Not yet."

There was a look in Brynne's eyes, a quiet fury.

"We need to find out who that is and what she wants," she said.

"We can do that when there aren't hexes flying," reasoned James through his teet; nevertheless, when Brynne craned her eyes over the fallen column again to see the duel that had erupted, he followed suit.

Mark Albertine was laying back, either due to some sense of honor or hesitancy in attacking someone he did not recognize. Serra, meanwhile, was on the offensive, sending a bevy of different jinxes but nothing, James noticed, too powerful. Either her knowledge of spells at her own year level wasn't up to scratch (Doubtful, James thought), or she was also going out of her way not to hurt her mystery opponent.

The girl in the mask, though, was proving her equal, countering each jinx with a jinx of her own. After a red jet of light (perhaps another Stunning spell) missed her mask and head by inches, though, she appeared to lose her patience.

"Diffindo!"

She pointed her wand downward, aiming the spell at Serra's feet. James's heart jumped into his throat, knowing the effect of that spell and what it could do if it made contact with flesh. Serra must have known, too, because she danced out of the way. Her motion was rushed and panicked, though - she hadn't been expecting an attack of that nature, and it threw her off balance.

The girl in the mask yelled an incantation that was muffled by the mask and the sounds of battle. But as she did so, she slashed her wand violently through the air. There was an awful sound of impact and Serra spun on the spot, letting out a cry of pain. Then she whirled around with her own wand: "PUGNUS MAXIMA!"

The other girl's head snapped sideways so quickly James feared Serra may have broken her neck for a moment. And as the mask fell to the ground in two pieces, she staggered unsteadily, clearly struggling to keep her balance after what looked like a terrible blow to the head. Her face was turned away from James and Brynne - he couldn't see it, even now that it was unmasked. Much more so when she bent, hands on her knees, hiding her entire head from view.

"That's enough," Serra shouted, taking a step forward. Even at this distance, James could see that her lip was trickling blood, and one of the lenses of her glasses was broken. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

The other girl took deep, shuddering breaths, her hidden face now hidden further in her own hand.

"You can't do anything more to hurt me," the girl's voice was now no longer muffled without the mask. And, though the blow to the head had obviously affected her and she was slurring her words drunkenly, James thought he may have recognized it. "But I've just remembered something."

She straightened, her hand still on her face. This motion made Serra pull up short. "And what's that?"

"I was here first," the now unmasked girl said, turning her back on Serra. Now, no one could see her face. "That means… that means… it means you don't make the rules. I do. And I say… you've gotta wait your turn."

"What are you talking ab-AARGH!" If James hadn't been watching it with his own two eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. One minute, Serra was there, and the next, some unseen force had yanked her out of view with violent speed. The scream she let out - "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!" - was bloodcurdling, and James, in that moment of terror, could only imagine that something horrible had happened to her.

"SERRA!" Mark yelled fruitlessly, his head snapping in the direction Serra had suddenly flown. He clenched his fist and whirled around wand-first. "What the hell did you do to her?!"

"Don't worry, she's not hurt," the girl answered. The tone in her voice was off.

"You didn't answer my question!" Mark snapped. From everything James had seen, Mark was typically a very calm, collected individual. But whatever had happened to Serra had clearly made him lose his cool.

"Stop yelling at me," the girl answered. "You can go check on her yourself if you're so worried."

"What?" Mark Albertine uttered blankly. "OH, GO-"

And a second later, he was gone.

The room went silent. Then, in that eerie silence, the once-masked girl spoke to no one:

"You still care about how it looks. That's the difference between us."

James swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how loud that sound was in his ears. He hoped the mystery girl didn't hear it. He looked down at Brynne. Her eyes were wide. She was clearly unnerved by what she had just witnessed. James tried to take a deep breath - in through his nose, so it wouldn't be heard.

But then he felt particles, and a tickle that became an itch.

Damn it, not now, he thought as his face contorted…

But the sneeze never came. He exchanged glances with Brynne again. His eyes flicked up over the fallen pillar to where the mystery witch was now kneeling, apparently in front of the mask that had been knocked off her face. Her back was turned.

James looked down at Brynne. Maybe I can catch her off guard?

Brynne's head shook once, and quickly. No, that's a bad idea.

James bared his teeth in a grimace. Well, we can't stay here. His eyes flicked to the direction from which they had come. Should we run?

Brynne swallowed hard and set her face into a firm line.

James shut his eyes tight.

He leapt over the pillar. He felt Brynne's hand pull at his robes, but he had been too quick. He opened his stride, pulling out his wand. The figure started to turn, apparently having heard the footsteps.

Then James felt his toe catch.

He had just enough time to control his fall and roll out of it…

Right into an outstretched wand pointed underneath his chin.

...Brilliant.

James had a lot of time in the ensuing silence to investigate the full length and features of the wand in his face. It wasn't very long - not nearly as long as James's own, which was a full foot. Also, he couldn't help but notice that the user, whoever she was, was left-handed, wearing a dark glove on that hand and that hand only…

The girl, though, withdrew her wand.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she declared. "Not unless you make me. Just don't get in my way."

And she walked past him.

Something clicked in James's brain.

"Wait a second!" he shouted, turning around and making to run after her.

The next thing he knew, he was on his backside, a plume of agony bursting from his nose and forehead. Had he walked into something? He was sure nothing had been there before. He sat there for a moment, dumbstruck.

"James!" Brynne shouted. James heard her voice but didn't react immediately as she rushed to his side. "Are you alright?"

James didn't know how to answer. His body wasn't hurt too badly. And yet…

With Brynne's insistent aid, he staggered to his feet, trying to ignore an encroaching headache.

"Remind me again why we came up here?" asked James, dusting ashes off his clothes. "I'm not sure you ever said."

"A door," Brynne replied, breathlessly. She seemed rattled. "I was looking for a door. Obviously I wasn't the only one."

James swallowed. "Serra and Mark are working against you."

"Not exactly," Brynne murmured. "It's complicated."

"What's that mean?" James asked.

Brynne was listening to him, but was facing the other way, scanning the mounds of trinkets and trash.

"We're trying to solve the same problem. We just haven't agreed on how," she said with an airy, almost resigned tone. Had she been expecting this to happen? "I hope she's alright. But who was that?"

"Never mind," James spat, looking down at his hands. They were shaking - but not with fear. "We're going to get him."

"Huh?" Brynne lost the context and was confused.

"I said, we're going to get him." James repeated himself. "Wenster. And when we do... he's going to answer for everything."