As luck would have it, as Matt and Ali rounded the corner to return to the common room, they ran straight into James.

"Hey, where have you been?" he exclaimed, unable to keep the petulant tone from his voice. Since returning from detention, he had been searching for Matt and Ali who had, apparently, disappeared from the face of the earth.

"Well," said Ali, looking at her friend. Pausing, she turned to Matt – this was, after all, all his hard work. James followed Ali's gaze, and turned to look at his best friend expectantly.

Wordlessly, Matt offered the book to James. Just as silently, he took the proffered book, and stared blankly at the title, reading the words, but not really registering what they were saying.

"You found a book about my dad?" he finally asked. "What does it say?"

Matt looked at his friend, and worried his lip. He knew how James had responded to the articles that Rita Skeeter had written in the prophet, but surely his friend would take a book more seriously? Even if what it proposed was, well, rather out there… There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth, but James cut in.

"Oh, but it's by Skeeter. I told you, you can't take anything she says seriously!" He looked derisively down at the book, and made to hand it back to Matt, but Ali's hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him.

"And like Matt said, everything has a basis in truth!" She stared determinedly at James, and though James tried to stare back defiantly, he couldn't resist the combined weight of her determination and Matt's silent hope. Sighing, he ran his free hand through his hair.

"What does it say then?"

"But that's ridiculous!" James exclaimed. The friends had returned to the empty classroom, and James had kept true to his word, and listened to their story with an open mind.

"You said you'd try to be open-minded!" accused Ali. Her patience was wearing thin, and she wasn't coping well with coming so close to solving the mystery, only to be met by the wall-of-stubbornness that was James. Folding her arms, she sunk lower into her seat, and resumed staring critically at the boy before her.

Sighing, James unfolded his arms, and leant forwards to pick up the book that lay on the table between them. "And I was," he said. Ali opened her mouth to protest, but James carried on, unwilling to allow her to launch into a lecture. "Look, do either of you honestly believe what the book says?"

"It's the best lead we have!" snapped Ali, her stubbornness rising to match James'. Rolling his eyes, he turned to Matt, and raised his eyebrows.

Matt had been suspiciously silent whilst Ali recounted what Matt had told her earlier. He chewed his lip as he thought about what he had found out. Ali was right – it was the best lead they had – but listening to it from someone else's voice simply fed the doubts he already had. He found the explanations he had built in his own head crumbling, and he was once more being left to blindly trust what an apparently untrustworthy source said. And what the source said was ridiculous, maybe even impossible, and yet, if you had asked him about the existence of magic six months ago, he'd have said the same thing.

"I don't know," he began. Two pairs of eyes narrowed dangerously, so he hurried on. "It's – well, it is ridiculous," James smiled triumphantly. "But like Ali says, it's the best lead we have." Ali turned to smirk at James. "What do you think James?"

James took a deep breath, and began to thumb through the book aimlessly. "It's ridiculous! No really, it is Ali! Look, how can someone possibly be the heir of all four founders? And why has Skeeter just conveniently left out any Ravenclaw-like attributes? Because she couldn't think of any. And I know that she writes convincingly, but that's the point! That's what she does. She sees a situation, and interprets it into the best story she can come up with!

"Yeah, okay, I'll admit that that bit she's got about objects belonging to the founders is, well, convincing. But the other bits? I mean, that bit about Dad travelling for a year? I know that's wrong, 'cause when I was younger, we had loads of holidays abroad because neither Mum nor Dad had ever seen much of the world.

"And surviving the killing curse? That impossible! That's kind of why it's an unforgivable curse. Okay, there are bits in here which could be true – it kind of does make sense that Dad spent that year doing something with Ron and Hermione, but travelling the world to discover some destiny he was born with? Really?" James finally ground to a halt, and gave off the distinct impression of someone who had run out of air.

James stared at his two closest friends, and they fell into silence as they each considered their position. Both Ali and James were firmly on either side of the fence, yet Matt, the one with the power to swing the situation either way, was just as firmly on the fence between the pair of them. They had reached an inarguable stale-mate.

Whilst James was sure that he was right, there were parts of the story that, though he would never admit to it, really did make sense to him. He had always wondered how his dad had gotten the scar on his forehead – and his numerous other scars for that matter, but there was something more significant about that scar. And what if his dad really had been the one who had killed Riddle? He didn't really want to acknowledge it as true because it surely wasn't, but if it was… Well, it would prove that his dad really was the hero he saw him as. Moreover, it would explain the looks of almost adoration that he could have sworn he saw people giving him sometimes.

The more he considered it, the more he realised that it explained: this family secret that was certainly lurking? The link between his dad and Voldemort? His dad's rapid ascent through the ministry? The reactions of Emily, and Daniel, and Michael, and, well, everyone?

James shook his head, trying vainly to rid it of the swirling thoughts. He knew he was being fanciful, and he wanted to avoid disappointment, so he would stick to his guns. Sinking lower in his chair he glared at Ali, who returned the stare just as decisively. Seeking to avoid the battle of wills between James and Ali, Matt turned to look out of the window. It wasn't a terrible day, and it was the first of the holidays, so there were a few braver souls outside. His eyes fell on a familiar shock of blue hair, and the solution fell on him so suddenly that he was surprised that they hadn't thought of it sooner.

"Teddy!" he said excitedly, turning in his seat to beam at his friends. "Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

"Think of what sooner?" asked James irritably.

"We should ask Teddy! If anyone's going to be able to shed any light, it'll be him." James' smile was rising to match Matt's, and Ali wasn't looking unimpressed.

"Yes, of course!" said James fervently. "He looked like he might know something when I mentioned the people staring on the train. I'd completely forgotten about that until now. Where d'you reckon he is?"

Matt smirked at his friend, and gestured towards the window. "One step ahead of you there."

James, in his excitement, was not looking where he was going, and so, as he rounded the final corner to reach the entrance hall, he ran headlong into someone coming from the opposite direction. The someone in question was considerably more solid than James, and as a result, both the boy and the book he had clasped in his hand, went sprawling across the corridor.

"Sorry, sorry, wasn't looking where I was going," James muttered as he scrambled to pick up the biography. However, just as his hand made contact, a booted foot landed on the cover.

Throwing himself to his feet, James glared at the student before him. He didn't know him, or the other three who stood with him, but he was fairly sure he had seen them sitting at the Slytherin table during meals. He was also fairly sure that they were at least three years above them.

"Can I have the book please?" he asked, deciding that this was one battle he really didn't want to get involved in, especially given the looks of loathing he was receiving from the boys. He felt Matt step slightly closer to him in solidarity, and saw the boy flick his gaze to Matt momentarily, then back to James. He then leant forwards to retrieve the book from beneath his foot.

However, it wasn't until he had returned to an upright position that he looked at the cover. Sneering, he dropped the book, and pulled out his wand instead. His glare deepened into some unrecognisable emotion that was beyond loathing. Pointing his wand at James, he snarled.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he asked, advancing on the first years. "You swan around the castle, thinking that just before you're Harry Potter's son you own the place. And then, as if that wasn't enough, you walk around with that piece of trash in case, Merlin forbid, someone doesn't know who your precious father is?"

James glanced nervously at Matt, and saw the boy swallow convulsively, yet defiantly return the glare from one of the other boys. James looked back at the incensed boy before him, and raised a placating hand.

"Look, I'm sorry if you think I've done something wrong. But I'm not my father. My name's James," he smiled half-heartedly, offering his hand. The older boy's grip on his wand tightened, and it moved closer to James' nose; James was almost cross-eyed in his attempt to keep it in sight.

"You'll pay for you arrogance," the boy hissed menacingly, and one of his friend's laughed in appreciation as James' eyes crossed further.

"And you'll make him, I assume?" asked Matt with more bravado than he felt, wishing Ali was still there. She had, however, headed off to find a teacher as soon as she'd seen the other boys, her ability to read a situation proving helpful once more.

James twisted rapidly to look at Matt in alarm. In the blink of an eye, James recognised Matt's own look of shock at his comment, which grew into deeper alarm as he saw something behind James which James was unable to see.

James was in the process of turning to see for himself, when his world went black.