Sorry for the delay in this chapter. Hope I still have readers and reviewers, and thank you for being patient.

James spent the next day in deep thought. He wanted to know what that had meant last night with his dad. Drood. What or who on earth was drood?

"Are you ignoring me?" Lucy asked at lunch.

"No," he said. "Sorry." He looked around but no one was listening. "My dad came to the school last night."

"Why?" Lucy asked.

"To see me I guess," James said with a shrug. He wasn't sure he wanted to divulge the fact he had inherited his fathers invisibility cloak yet. "That wasn't the odd bit. He was called back to the ministry. An alert about something called Drood. Have you ever heard about it?" he asked, wondering if her muggle upbringing had let her come across something he hadn't.

"No," she said. "What is it?"

"I don't know," he said. "That's the frustrating bit. Dad didn't stay long enough to tell me. He just told me to go back to my dormitory. I was hoping for a letter, but he hasn't sent me one today."

"He's probably busy," Lucy consoled. "I've heard he's head of the Auror office right?"

"Yeah," James said. He didn't want to dwell on what other rumours she might have heard about his prolific father.

"Maybe he'll send you a letter over the weekend?"

"Yeah maybe," he said. "I'm just worrying over nothing." He said it to reassure himself as much as anything else.

"Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team?" she asked, trying to distract him. "Try outs are tomorrow aren't they?"

"Yes," James said. "I don't know if I should. I might… I won't be as good as my dad."

"He's not here," Lucy said. "You are. You don't have to live in his shadow. Don't live by his standards."

"Thanks," he said. "I've got a good broom actually." There was a pause as Lucy searched for something to change the subject.

"We've got Defence against the Dark Arts this afternoon. With Professor…" Lucy checked her timetable. "No, really?"

"What?"

"Professor M... Mut... Mutuari?!"

"You're lying," James said, getting out his own timetable. "Oh wow, no you're not. How do you even pronounce that?"

Lucy laughed at the look on his face, poking out his tongue in concentration.

However, when it came down to it, no one wanted to laugh at the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher herself. Professor Mutuari was a tiny little witch, a few inches below five foot, with a severe and harsh face, and apparently no sense of humour. She seemed to be in her late twenties, and had straight blonde hair.

She waved her wand, making textbooks appear on each of their desks. An introduction to Defence. James was reminded of Umbridge, who he had heard all sorts of stories about. The evil old hag who ruined the school for a few months in his father's fifth year.

"Okay, turn to page three and look at the wand movements illustrated." There was a loud rustling as everyone did and James looked at the title of the section. Simple repelling spell. It didn't seem too difficult. The incantation was Non Oppugnas. "So as not to cause any danger to you, inexperienced as you are, I'm going to cast a weather charm. If you are successful with your repelling spell, the effects of the charm will not touch you. Begin. Pluvia Caligo."
Suddenly a wet mist descended on the room and several people shrieked. Within a few minutes the entire class was soaked through, but everyone seemed to be having fun, trying the repelling spell. James laughed as Lucy's attempt managed to burn a hole in her text book.

Over the general cacophony and mayhem, no one heard the knock on the classroom door. It opened and Professor McGonagall stood there watching with disbelief at the chaos. "Finite Incatatem," she said clearly. Everything stopped and students turned to see what had caused it, everything in the room now dripping with rain water. "I need to speak to Potter." James tried to think what on earth he had done that would require the headmistress to pull him out of class, but nothing came to him. Maybe she knew that he'd been around the castle at night. But he was with the head of the Auror office, nothing could have happened to him. Apart from the minor fact is was against the rules.

"Now please, and bring your things." McGonagall said. Everyone was staring at him as he slowly packed up his belongings and followed McGonagall out of the classroom. He caught Lucy's eye and she seemed just as confused as he was.
Once in the corridor she looked at him and seemed to notice that he was soaked through. She waved her wand briefly and he dried off instantly, feeling much warmer. "Potter, follow me to my office."

"Professor, am I… in trouble?" he asked, following her large steps through the castle.

"No, of course not," she said briskly. "Should you be?" she asked wryly as they went down a sweeping staircase.

"No," he said so quickly that he was sure she wouldn't believe him. But McGonagall didn't mention it, just led the way to her office. The gargoyle stood to attention and she gave the password. "Magnum dolorem." The gargoyle sprung aside and let them go up the spiral staircase. James walked into her office, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Professor, what is going on?" he said quietly, noticing that all of the portraits were awake and listening intently.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news James," she said. All at once James realised that her severe face was broken. She seemed very upset, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. A moment later he could. "I'm afraid your father's dead."

There was a shocked silence in the room. "What?" James said. "No. He can't be. There's… been a mistake."

"No," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, there's no mistake."

"But…" James said, shaking his head. "I saw him yesterday."

"You saw him yesterday?" McGonagall asked in surprise. "When? What happened?" James recounted the conversation (leaving out the invisibility cloak). "Drood? That's what the patronus said?"

"Yes," James said. "Look, he can't be dead. He just can't be. He defeated the most evil wizard of all time! How can he be dead?"

"I don't know," McGonagall said, sniffing slightly. "He was found in his office in the ministry. Locked in, no signs of any intruders either."

"Avada Kedavra?" James asked in a hushed voice as he started to accept that this might, just might have happened.

"Surprisingly no," she said. "He… um… He was stabbed."

"What!" James said. "Muggle murder? This doesn't make any sense."

"I know it doesn't," she agreed. "I'm very sorry. I was very fond of Harry. Misbehaving student though he was." She moved behind her desk and dipped her quill in the ink well. "I need to write to the ministry. Drood? You're sure."

"Yes," James said. "Harry… my father… He's really… dead?" James asked slowly.

"I'm sorry, yes," she said. "Your mother's coming to the castle tonight to take you home."

James looked at his hands. He'd seen his father less than twenty four hours ago, and now he was dead? It seemed impossible. But McGonagall wouldn't lie about something like this. Before he knew it, he found his eyes filling with tears, as if he had begun to accept it. That he would never see his father again. Could that be true?

McGonagall let out a low whistle and an owl came to the window, quickly as if it had been waiting outside for her. She quickly tied the roll of parchment to him and the bird flew away quickly. Then she turned to James.

"James, I am so sorry," she repeated. "Do you want to stay here until your mother arrives?"

"No," he said at once, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. "I'll be in the grounds," he said. Without waiting for further conversation he turned and left the office. Once down the spiral stairs he waited for a moment, the news hovering around him heavily, his breathing coming in gasps.

And then he ran.

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