Chapter 30: The Exile's Chronicle
Albus could almost feel the buzz of weekend anticipation as he passed students in the Hogwarts halls. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the school was heading to their final class for the week. On top of that, this may have been the first weekend in a while where neither brutal cold nor rain were in the forecast. It wasn't quite prime outdoor weather - that time of year was still a month or two off - but it was mild compared to what they'd had, and the slight chill was nothing a good cloak or jumper wouldn't help.
"That's really kind of dodgy, isn't it?" Scorpius was asking Sylvia, midway through a conversation to which Albus hadn't been paying complete attention.
But Sylvia laughed. Albus felt this odd, swooping sensation in his gut. "Look who's talking."
"I'd never write a letter like that," Scorpius replied, sounding uncomfortable. But then he paused; squinting, he peered through the traffic and appeared to catch sight of something or someone. "Wait, is that-?"
And suddenly, Scorpius took off into the growing crowd.
Sylvia glanced at Albus… then shrugged.
"Al!" a voice shouted. Albus looked around for who had called him, and noticed a ginger-haired girl emerging from the throng of moving students, beaming at him sunnily. She threw her arms around Albus's neck.
Just over Lily's shoulder, Albus noticed several other girls. One had brown hair tied back in a ponytail and was looking slightly impatient; the other had brown skin and black hair down to her waist. She caught Albus's eye and smiled vaguely.
"Doing alright?" Albus asked his sister.
"Not bad," Lily replied. "Hey, I found something for James."
"Huh?" Albus was confused.
"For Sunday," Lily answered. When Albus didn't respond immediately, she frowned. "Al. You didn't forget, did you? Sunday's James's birthday."
"I thought you were mad at James," Albus pointed out - mostly to draw attention from the fact that he had forgotten. Not that the fifteenth of March was James' birthday, of course - he just hadn't realized it was so close. What the hell had happened to this term, anyway? It felt like yesterday when they were all coming back from the winter holidays...
"Not that mad at him," Lily pouted. Going into the pocket of her robes, she produced a card. "See? Karyn was eating Chocolate Frogs last night and found it."
"Lily!" whinged the brown-haired girl. "I only had two. Stop making me sound like a fatty."
"Okay…" Lily rolled her eyes. "Karyn had two Chocolate Frogs last night. This was in one of them."
She put it into Albus's hand. Even though he had seen the man's portrait several times before, it never failed to make him cringe a bit. The face looked like it was carved out of wood, by a particularly unskilled woodcarver that had gotten halfway, messed it up horribly, and then just tried to make the best of the disaster instead of throwing the piece out. Half the man's nose and ear were missing (although you could barely see the latter behind the curtain of grey hair that fell limply to his neck), as well as an entire eye, which had been replaced by some sort of imitation, that, unlike his working eye, was unusually wide and electric blue. And swiveling in every which direction. Albus wasn't ever sure whether the fake eye was creepier when it was doing that or when it was looking straight at him.
Under the man's portrait was his name: "ALASTOR MOODY." Albus knew instantly why Lily was sure James would appreciate it. Alastor Moody was a legend among the Aurors - even to this day, if their father was to be believed. And since James had wanted to be an Auror basically ever since he understood their father's job, this card would have held some special value for him.
The truth was, though, that Albus wasn't completely sure that James even collected Chocolate Frog Cards anymore. He didn't have the heart to tell Lily this at this point - and perhaps, Albus thought, James would appreciate the gift regardless.
"Yeah, he'll like this," Albus said tactfully.
Lily smiled warmly. It was nice to see. She hadn't done a lot of smiling since November.
It did not last long. She looked to her left, but then did a double take. Her brown eyes nearly popped out of her head and she suddenly looked very flustered, her ears and face instantly turning pink.
"Um… I've got to go do...uh… the cat," she stammered uncertainly. Talking quickly to correct herself, she added, "Feed her, I mean. See you later."
"Byyyyye…?" Albus murmured, as Lily darted away before he could even complete his greeting. He watched her and her friends leave.
"She looks like she's doing well," commented Scorpius, who approached mere moments after Lily left.
"Where'd you run off too?" asked Sylvia probingly.
"I thought I'd seen Lena," Scorpius explained. "It wasn't her, though…"
He trailed off and frowned.
"Why do you two look so serious?" Sylvia asked. "It's Friday."
Albus hadn't realized he was frowning. "You feel like something's off?" He glanced at Scorpius and then Sylvia. "I mean, more than usual."
Sylvia shook her head. "Nooo… not really."
Albus frowned. "Something doesn't feel right." He sighed, cupping his chin.
"Could just be indigestion," pointed out Sylvia. Albus jumped, as she had playfully poked him in the belly. Scorpius gave her a look, to which she responded, "What? I told you both of you were eating too fast."
They had wolfed down their lunch rather quickly.
"Yeah, we got to lunch ten minutes late because of Binns," Scorpius snapped suddenly, as if he'd been waiting to get this off his chest all afternoon. "Honestly, how hard is it to find a History of Magic teacher that's not a two-hundred-year-old ghost? I bet Rowan could teach the subject better."
Albus grimaced and nodded in agreement. "Speaking of being late, we should probably hurry up. If we get there after Wenster starts his lesson, he might put our heads on spikes."
They started walking again. "That's a figure of speech, right?" Scorpius asked.
Albus just gave him a dark look.
When they arrived at Professor Wenster's classroom, most of the Gryffindors were there.
Except for Wenster. This was extremely uncommon. So uncommon, in fact, that Albus in three years couldn't remember it ever happening.
Instead, standing at the front of the classroom and looking very harried, was Geoffrey Boyd, the Head Boy. "Right. Now that everyone's here…" he started before Sylvia, Scorpius, and Albus even settled into their seats. (Scorpius remained at the back row, where he could be in theory furthest away from Wenster's bullying. Albus and Sylvia understood this and did not protest it.) "Professor Wenster is going to be a bit late. We're currently dealing with a situation…"
"Oh, Merlin's balls," groaned Desmond McLaggen. If this was supposed to be under his breath, he had failed spectacularly at this, and the entire classroom heard him. "Can we go, then? I mean, if he's not gonna be here-"
"I never said that," Boyd interrupted him. "I said he'd be late."
"And he sent you to watch us like we're some little kids?" McLaggen snapped on Boyd. He seemed to be in quite a mood today.
"No, not exactly," Boyd answered. He took a deep breath. "Alright, I'm going to come out and say it. I came here myself, to ask all of you a question."
His eyes surveyed the Gryffindors - as well as the Ravenclaws, who were clustered together on the other side of the classroom's middle aisle.
"The situation that we're dealing with…" he started.
But just then, the doors swung open violently, hitting the walls so hard that it made all of the third years jump.
"Boyd," Wenster called with little preamble. "What are you doing here?"
Although Geoffrey Boyd must have been about eighteen and was nearly as tall, he still managed to look like a small child as Wenster approached him, wearing a glare more withering than any Albus had seen on his face.
"I…" Boyd barely got one word out.
"Silence." Wenster snapped the word like a whip. "You were neither invited here nor ordered here, and therefore should not be here. Unless there's something you'd like to tell me? Some information, perhaps?"
Boyd shook his head. "No."
"No, sir," Wenster corrected Boyd. "And you expect me to believe you know nothing at all about this."
Boyd shook his head. "No, I don't. And I won't know anything the third or fourth time you ask me, either... sir."
Sylvia shot Albus a look. He'd never once seen a Head Student cheek a professor, but it was becoming somewhat obvious that Boyd's patience was wearing a bit thin.
Wenster's nostrils flared. "Who do you think you are? You wouldn't even be a Head Boy if not for Ambrose's whinging. Leave, so I can address my students properly."
Boyd looked very much like he would have liked to say something, but in the end, did not. He walked past Wenster and through the aisle. He was barely clear of the doors when Wenster whipped around with his wand (several of the third year students flinched) and incanted, rather loudly, "Cludo!"
The doors shut with a slam that rattled the room, and Albus couldn't help feeling like he and his classmates had just been imprisoned.
"Now," he said, each word dripping with the gravitas of one barely holding his temper. "I will say this once. Someone… most likely a student… has burglarized my office and stolen a very… very… valuable keepsake of mine. I have my ideas on who it might have been - but if it happens to be someone in this room… give yourselves up and you may stand the faintest chance of not being arrested and sent to Azkaban."
Albus could have sworn he remembered his father saying that it wasn't legal to send an underage wizard to Azkaban for anything less than the most heinous of crimes, and that it hadn't actually happened since the law was passed over a hundred years ago - but he was not about to try to point this out in the mood Wenster was in.
"I didn't figure as much," Wenster said after a long silence.
But then, to Albus's great shock and horror, Rose's gloved left hand slowly raised itself.
"Miss Weasley?" Wenster replied with the slightest hint of disdain.
"Do you think it was one of the Slytherins?" Rose queried.
"Do you know anything that would suggest otherwise?" Wenster asked.
"I don't know," replied Rose. "Can you think of anyone else that's not in Slytherin that would have a reason to dislike you?"
Wenster and Rose stared each other down for several uncomfortable seconds.
Then, slowly, Rose turned her head toward the back row of the classroom.
And there, staring back, was Scorpius Malfoy, shaking his head in disbelief.
"No," Albus muttered. "No. He didn't. He couldn't have. He was with us all-"
"Interesting theory, Miss Weasley," Professor Wenster acknowledged, setting his eyes on Scorpius and hearing none of Albus's murmurings. "Mr. Malfoy. Out of everyone in this room, it just so happens you're the only one that knows any passwords I've set for my office this year."
Then, a sight that turned Albus's stomach. A silent chuckle; a smile broke out over Rose's face.
Sylvia saw it too. "You're a foul bitch," she cursed her at a whisper.
This got the response that Albus, quite unfortunately, had been expecting. Rose simply raised both of her eyebrows. She didn't care one bit.
"Stand up," Wenster ordered. At first, Scorpius didn't. "Don't mock me, boy. On your feet. Now."
Scorpius finally did as told.
"A silver locket, with an iron chain," Wenster said. "Inside is a very, very old picture of a young woman with golden hair. Have you seen it?"
Scorpius's lip curled. "No, I haven't," he said. "Are you going to do this to everyone in the class?"
Albus cringed. He really wished Scorpius hadn't asked the second question; yet, at this point, how reasonable was it to expect Scorpius to just take this any longer?
"If I do, or don't," Wenster replied, dismissively, almost as if he'd initially decided not to entertain the question but then changed his mind, "that's my prerogative. It's my classroom, not yours."
"It's only fair, isn't it?" Scorpius asked. "Why don't you check McLaggen? He looks like he's enjoying himself a little too much over there."
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," McLaggen snapped suddenly.
"McLaggen, enough," Wenster cut in almost as soon as McLaggen started talking. "As I was saying, it's not your place to decide what happens in my classroom, Malfoy. You of all people -"
"Oh, we're getting to the point now, aren't we?" Scorpius interrupted him, teeth clenched, eyes glittering. Wenster clearly wasn't used to being cut off like that, and it seemed to stun him for a moment. "Me, of all people. I'm not standing here because of your locket. I'm here because I wouldn't play your game."
There was a sharp intake of breath around the classroom as everyone seemed to realize that they were now watching a standoff that might not be resolved calmly. For Wenster's part, he did not rage - only glared. But the glare was different than the one he gave everyone else. It was something past simple disdain, edging on hatred.
"You're fortunate to be here at all," he finally answered. "You should remember that. And be thankful for the life you get to live."
"...Get to?" Scorpius hissed.
"You should be thanking us - the world at large - for the mercy of your existence," replied Wenster. "Your father should have been dead or in Azkaban years before you were even born. And as for your mother, well... anyone that would marry a Death Eater is untrustworthy at best."
Albus was watching Scorpius for this entire diatribe - and the very second Wenster said the word 'mother', a very frightening blankness had seized Scorpius's face, which went from pale to ghostly. If Wenster saw this, he did not acknowledge it, as he turned his back on Scorpius and started back toward his own desk at the head of the classroom.
"Though, if the rumors I've heard are true, those books should be balanced soon enough. What goes around comes around, as the saying goes."
Scorpius stood, and the rest of the class sat, in stunned silence, for a moment that seemed to hang for an age.
Then, only a moment after Albus realized it would, the fuse to the bomb ran out.
"YOU F-" Snarling the most infamously awful of oaths, Scorpius took a step forward, fumbling clumsily at his waist.
Wenster, hearing the yell, turned on his heel again -
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
Scorpius was knocked to his back, his wand sent flying into the air. Gasps filled the room. But most of the class wasn't looking at Scorpius…
"I daresay I could have handled that myself," Wenster said. "But I appreciate your efforts nonetheless, Mr. Potter."
Wenster pulled his own wand out, and it was only then that Albus realized what he had just done. He lowered his wand slowly, and sank into his chair.
"Why?" he heard himself ask himself.
Because he would have done something terrible - or at least tried, the voice in his head told him as he stared at his friend, who rose to a seat, staring back at him with gray eyes filled with half terror, half confusion.
Who's 'he'? Scorpius or Wenster?
Either. Both. Maybe now Wenster will just set him a few detentions and be done with-
"Incarcerous Immacula," Wenster chanted. Threads of white light erupted from his wand, reaching out for Scorpius, circling him, and then tightening around his body from ankles to shoulders.
"You- AARGH!" Scorpius tried to break free - but the bright cords tightened more savagely, and this time with an awful hissing sound that reminded Albus of sizzling grease. It must have burned nearly as much, too, because Scorpius let out an awful scream. This did not dissuade him from trying again. And again. And again.
Albus's eyes darted around the room. He didn't know what to do, and it was obvious no one else did, either. Matthias Albertine had his jaw set. Madhari Rama was on the other side of the aisle, too, slowly shaking her head and muttering something that looked like "monster…" Iris Conrad looked frozen in time, her face white as a sheet. Nina Edgerton, Albus's Gryffindor classmate, couldn't even bear to watch anymore, burying her face into her hands. Liz O'Connell, her best friend, was made of tougher stuff, but only slightly, watching with her hand on Nina's shoulder, but cringing the entire time. One more attempt from Scorpius to escape his bonds - one more snarl of agony -
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Right in front of Albus, Sylvia had jumped to her feet and slammed her fists into the table. Wenster glared at her, but as far as Albus could tell, she was giving as good as she got. He could almost feel the anger radiating from her, like palpable heat. He could even feel beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. God, it was hot…
The room went silent, other than Scorpius's breathless wheezes, as Wenster caught Sylvia's eye. The two stared each other down for what seemed like ages.
For one awful moment, Albus feared that Wenster may turn his wrath - and his wand - on her. Instead, he answered her in a very low, calm voice:
"I suppose you're right."
Sylvia slackened. Her hands slid away from where she had pounded the table in front of them.
And where they had been, Albus saw two black marks, almost like scorches. Wenster glanced at them for a moment. Then he looked up at Sylvia.
"Stupefy."
There was a loud bang that caused the entire room to jump. Without looking at him, Wenster had aimed a Stunning Spell at Scorpius. Scorpius, chained within another of Wenster's hexes, could not defend himself - or even move.
The jinx hit him flush, and he went limp.
"Finite Incantatem," Wenster muttered - and at long last, the Searing Chains (Albus believed that was what they were called) fell away and faded, leaving Scorpius Malfoy motionless in the center aisle.
What followed was an ominous silence, punctuated by Sylvia's breathing through her teeth, and Nina Edgerton's squeaks as she tried to hold back sobs -
"Scorpius Malfoy drew his wand, unprovoked, with the attention of attacking me, and I was forced to defend myself," Wenster announced, almost as if telling them that this was the answer they were to give if asked… or else. "Let this serve as an example as to why, aside from being a crime and the height of insubordination, attacking your schoolteachers is an amazingly foolish idea."
But Albus had already determined that he would not. That was not even a question.
"Mr. Lester," Wenster set his eyes on Rowan, who was on the row behind Albus. Albus (glancing again at the scorched table - where the hell did those burn marks come from?) looked behind himself to Rowan, who was now halfway out of his chair with his jaw tight. "You look like you're positively bursting to say something."
Rowan's look was worse than rage - or disdain. It was pure hatred.
"No," Rowan said, "I have nothing to say."
"And rightfully not," Wenster replied. "Today is a day for justice."
To Albus's great shock, Rowan bit his lip, and nodded. "Couldn't agree more," he said grimly.
He glanced vaguely across the aisle, where most of the Ravenclaws were seated.
Wenster gave Rowan a curious look for a moment, but then raised his eyebrows. Then, his voice to address the entire class: "We will need to adjourn for today so that I can clean up this… mess. Come on Monday prepared to make up for lost time."
No one moved at first - except Rowan and Madhari, who moved extremely quickly, almost as if with purpose. Rose caught Albus's eye for a split-second…
Albus couldn't even look at her.
"It's probably for -" she started, but Albus did not want to hear a bit of it.
"Go to hell, Rose."
It had come off his tongue so easily - and the thought of that broke his heart all over again. He wanted to apologize, but those words would not come.
He heard her rise to her feet behind him.
"He'll get his," she said at a mutter. And she went away. Finally.
Most of them followed, leaving Sylvia and Albus alone with the monster, who sniffed and loomed over them.
"Leave," he said. "Unless you would like to fetch Professor Hagrid for me."
Albus felt heat from his glare, but at this moment, stood and looked Wenster dead in the eye, not breaking contact. He shook his head, and started to stand. Wenster backed away to allow them some space. Sylvia very pointedly did not look at Wenster as she started up the aisle, only pausing for a moment to glance at Scorpius's prone form. Albus quickly followed her, but right when he reached the door, Wenster started speaking.
"It must have been difficult for you," he said. "You had always been a good friend to Malfoy. There's something noble in that attempt, to be sure. But the world's a harsh place, Mr. Potter. Some people are irredeemably dangerous - and for the greater good, they need to be removed."
"...Is that what you've been telling people for seventy years, sir?" Albus finally asked, turning around.
Albus thought for a moment that Wenster would react to this much like he reacted to any other comment he considered rude. Instead, he raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. That's exactly what I've been telling them - your father included," replied Wenster. "Somehow, it's something very few people seem to understand. We must fight evil wherever we encounter it. We may not love the fight, but it's a fight that has to be fought. Does that make any sense?"
Albus glanced at Scorpius's body.
Then he looked at Wenster.
"...Yes, sir."
And he turned his back on Wenster, and stepped through the threshold into the hallway.
James
"Lastly, what is the Demiguise's numerological analogue?"
James's hand shot up.
"Mr. Potter?"
"Nothing."
James and turbaned, dark-skinned, garishly-robed Professor Ziad Halim stared each other down in an exchange that should not have been nearly this awkward.
"I'm sorry?" Professor Halim uttered, peering over his round glasses.
"Nothing," repeated James. "It represents 'nothing.' Or, in number terms, 'zero.'"
Professor Halim stroked the stubble on his chin, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Correct - as usual, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor."
"Ugh," scoffed Betha Darden, a Ravenclaw, and the only girl from that house in their year to have chosen Ancient Runes as an elective. "Care to let someone else answer a question, Potter?"
James, for what it was worth, had earned his house fifteen points in Ancient Runes today.
"You've got two hands, don't you?" quipped Murphy, who had earned Gryffindor another five, from right beside him. "Put one up if you know the answer."
"Burn," taunted Cecil Brookstanton.
"Nobody asked you," groaned James, rolling his eyes. Several classmates laughed.
"Now, now," Halim chuckled. He would not tolerate rudeness but, unlike some other professors (Malcolm, Binns, and that man whose name James refused to use in polite conversation), had no issue with the occasional moment of levity or humor as long as everyone was keeping their marks up. "Next, for ten - Ah. Never mind. It's almost four. I suppose that'll have to do for today."
Most students that took Halim's Ancient Runes class (despite how difficult the subject matter could be sometimes) enjoyed it. Most students also rather enjoyed the weekend more. They did not need telling twice, and instantly began shoving books and quills into their bags.
Over the commotion, Halim called: "Remember, we'll be having a quiz over Chapter Thirteen in your text on Monday. If you fail to prepare, you will find that number very unlucky indeed."
James let out a groan. He liked Ancient Runes; but Sunday was his birthday, and he could think of several better ways to spend it than poring over his Ancient Runes text, which was so wordy and clinical that the voice narrating it in his head when he read it always managed to sound like Professor Binns.
As he and Murphy were headed toward the door, they were jostled a bit by an older girl entering against the flow of traffic ("Excuse me - Professor?").
Murphy glanced at James once the two were clear of the room. "You saw that, right? Greta?"
"Yeah," uttered James. "And she looked in a hurry. I wonder what -"
"Panel meeting," a girl's voice, breathless, answered the question for them. James looked in the direction of the voice to find, of all people, Rose and Rowan standing directly in front of them.
"Panel - what?" Murphy uttered.
"Never mind, there's no time," Rose interrupted him, talking faster than her usual pace - which was saying quite a bit. "We have to get up to the seventh floor, now."
"What?" James uttered. "What the hell are you-"
"Wenster's not in his office," Rose hissed, moving closer. "I figured out a way in - we have go now, while he's busy."
Rowan gave an aside glance at Rose, as if not entirely approving of the way this was going. "He's got a Pensieve."
"Hold - on - a second," Murphy pleaded. "What the hell does a Pensieve have to do with this?"
Rose, with a furtive glance behind her, went inside her robes. She produced a vial whose contents seemed to be some strangely liquefied mixture of light and smoke.
"What in the -" Murphy uttered.
"It's Memorovapor," Rose explained. "This is what a memory looks like when it's extrac-"
"I know what it is," Murphy bit back with a bit more venom than usual.
"Do you?" asked Rose, with the air of someone who knew something everyone else didn't. It reminded James vaguely of Serra Paxton, and that, he thought, might have had something to do with why Murphy was so prickly all of a sudden. Dropping her voice even lower, she said, "We might be able to get rid of him with this."
James frowned. Try as he might, he didn't quite trust Rose. So he looked elsewhere.
"Rowan?" he called.
Rowan wouldn't look anyone in the eye. There was a haunted look on his face and, in fact, he looked to be close to tears.
"We have to," he said quietly.
And James knew then, that they had to. Rowan was typically very cerebral and collected; almost disturbingly so for a guy his age, James thought. Whatever he had seen or learned recently must have really been disturbing for him to have been this rattled.
So they started through the castle, taking care to move quickly, but not quickly enough to arouse suspicion. Most of the classrooms were on lower floors of the castle, so once they got clear of the fifth floor, traffic in the hallways became much more sparse.
At last they arrived in the seventh floor hall with the statue of Barnabas the Barmy, and found themselves staring at the apparently empty wall opposite.
James, remembering something, turned around toward the statue instead.
"What are you doing?" Murphy questioned. "Entrance is this way."
"Just turn," James instructed him. "Trust me."
Murphy did so. Rowan, noticing the pattern, followed suit.
Moments later there was a foreign creaking sound behind the three of them. They turned to face the other wall at last - but where that wall had been, there was now a familiar-looking doorway.
"Through here," Rose said simply, stepping forward to open the door to the Come and Go Room.
James took care to cover his nose and mouth before entering, but neglected to tell the others that. They entered the gray, ashen hall with a cacophony of coughs. Complicating matters even more was Rose's apparent refusal to slow down. She was moving forward as if possessed, even electing to curse away any obstacles rather than navigate around them. This did nothing for the already copious amounts of smoke and debris wafting through the air. James wanted to yell after her, but did not for fear of inhaling enough soot and ash to choke him to death.
Just when James started to think that this walk was much longer than he had remembered, they reached that cleared area he and Brynne had seen several weeks ago.
Well, it had been clear.
Where there had once been empty space, a door frame now stood, isolated and unattached to anything else, in its center.
"When did that get there?" James asked.
"Does it matter?" Rose questioned in response. "I found it and I know where it leads."
Rose started toward the door.
"Rose, I don't like this." James went after her. "My dad told me this story once - said he knew someone that went through a door like this once and never came back."
"James is right," Murphy agreed. "How do you know it's not a one-way trip?"
"Because I've been through it before," Rose answered sharply. "I…"
She swallowed, shook her head, and turned the knob. The door opened with a push, into a field of white light -
She disappeared, leaving the three boys there in silence.
James stared at the field of white light, then steeled himself.
"Murph," he said, hearing his voice shake a little bit. "If I can't come back through, send…"
But somebody blew past both of them, nearly knocking James over.
"Rowan?!" James shouted after him. "WAIT, RO-"
He was through - and also gone.
James kneaded his forehead. "Damn it, what is going on?!"
"I think our slow game just imploded," Murphy replied grimly. "So are we going or not?"
James let out a sigh, lining up the open door. Trying to imagine the platform at King's Cross instead of a disembodied door frame, he set out toward it at a bit of a run. His fear got the better of him at the last moment and he shut his eyes right before the light…
He nearly tripped; the surface underneath his feet changed to something soft… almost like carpet. He dared not open his eyes until something hit him in the back.
"Ouch~" Thinking he would have to fight now, James whirled around to find Murphy there, hands up. But then, he looked around himself. He recognized these walls, these shelves… he'd seen them in bad dreams a few times…
"This is Wenster's office, huh?" Murphy, who had never been, commented, looking around. Rose was standing nearby with her wand already out, glancing intently at the far wall. James looked in that direction as well. There, the portrait of the beautiful young blonde was glancing down at them, as if sure they shouldn't have been there but not entirely certain what, if anything, she could do about it.
"Who's the girl?" Rose asked.
"That's Claudia Scrimgeour. My great-grandfather's sister."
James had lost track of Rowan, and didn't remember seeing him once he had come through the door. But he was standing not too far from the picture now, leaning over what looked like some sort of silver basin, supporting himself on the podium that held it. He didn't move for a long moment. He took a shuddering breath… then another one. He straightened and, a blank look in his eyes, walked back toward them.
"Just put your head in, over there," he said in a burnt-out voice, pointing at the basin - and to James's great alarm, as he got closer, James could see that Rowan's face was streaked with tears. "I'm just… gonna warn you…"
He swallowed hard and looked James right in the eye.
"You're not gonna like it."
Rowan walked directly under the picture of Claudia Scrimgeour, put his hand to it for a moment, and then slumped down to a seat, right underneath the painting, looking completely broken.
Rose tried not to look affected by this show of emotion. "Thankfully, time must pass slower or something when you're in there. Whatever Rowan saw, took him all of thirty seconds."
"Probably not a bad thing," Murphy suggested, glancing toward the door that they all knew held the lift that was the office's main entrance and exit. "Something tells me we're gonna have way less time than you think we are…"
James walked over to the basin. Expecting to see water, and his reflection, he was bewildered for a moment when he saw that it was full of that same white, not-quite-liquid, not-quite-mist, not-quite-light substance that had been in the vial Rose had shown them earlier. (Incidentally, James saw a vial that may have been that very one, unstoppered and left carelessly next to the Pensieve.)
James took a breath, held it, and threw his face toward the basin.
Then, everything went white.