"Come on, hurry up!" Ginny called up the stairs. She was pacing around the kitchen, looking at the fire. They were going to be arriving by Floo powder and her children were upstairs somewhere. Ron and Hermione were both in the kitchen, white faced. Hugo and Rose had gone upstairs and all five children were no doubt chattering away. Ginny couldn't blame them. If she had something else to do, she'd be doing it.

"Ginny," Ron said slowly.

"No," she said. "There's nothing you could say. So don't try."

"You're not the only one grieving Ginny," he said.

"Ron, leave it," Hermione said quietly, a hand on her husbands arm restraining him.

"Come on!" she shouted up the stairs again. Suddenly there was a tumble of five sets of feet coming downstairs. All of them burst into the kitchen, looks of sadness and sorrow on their faces. Ginny felt sad that her children and their cousins had to go through this. A funeral for their father when they were so young. She shook her head and reached for the pot of emerald green powder over the fireplace. "Ready?"

James felt the breeze across his face as he stood outside, watching as the coffin was lowered into the ground. This seemed surreal. Even so, he felt a lump in his throat as the coffin hit the ground with a dull thump. The funeral was small, considering Harry's fame. The Weasleys, and Harry's immediate family. Neville Longbottom was there, as was McGonagall, Hagrid and an old warlock called Hopkins, who had worked with Harry for ten years in the Auror office, and was his best friend at the ministry. Aunt Luna was there too. Not technically James's aunt, but she was almost family. Everyone else hadn't been allowed here, so it was a relatively small gathering.

The wizard officiating was saying some words which James couldn't hear. He was thinking of his father the way he'd known him. Not as the defeater of Voldemort, but as a normal person. Someone who would shout at the wizarding wireless network when the England Quidditch team made a mistake. Harry had been shouting constantly at the English team. James smiled at the memory when they'd been playing South Africa about two years ago. Thomas had seen the snitch and instead of flying towards it had started having an argument with the South African keeper. Letting their seeker get the snitch easily, and win by three hundred and twenty points. Harry had been spitting mad for days.

Suddenly the wizard waved his wand and the pile of earth fell onto the coffin with a soft thump. He pointed the wand and a headstone arrived out of thin air, several white lilies resting against it, as grass magically sprouted over the grave. After several minutes of silence people started to disband, walking away from the site of Harry's burial. James didn't move. Ginny had Hermione and Ron on either side of her, supporting her, seemingly not noticing that her eldest son wasn't with her.

James read the fresh neat inscription on the headstone. Here lies Harry Potter, beloved father, husband and friend. May he rest in peace. James felt the tears blur his vision as he started to accept that he would never see his father again. He was gone. Dead. Really and truly gone. James sniffed and wiped his eyes. That was when he realised he wasn't alone. Hopkins who worked with Harry was standing, looking at James.

"What do you want?" James asked rudely.

"To say I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "Harry was… well, we all know what he was."

"Why is he dead?" James asked. "It seems so senseless."

"I know," Hopkins said. The silence spread out between them, only the rustle of leaves breaking it. James thought to himself about the murder. Who could have done it? James had always thought of his father as invincible. He'd defeated Voldemort after all. But the man who might be able to tell him, give him details was standing right next to him. So James asked a simple question.

"Who killed my father?"

"I don't know who he is," Hopkins said. "I only know what he calls himself. And I'm not certain either, but it seems unlikely it would be anyone else."

"Who?"

"Drood," he said, his breath coming out in a rush. "The man that we've been trying to catch, called Drood."

"Why stab him?" James asked, capitalising on the fact that someone wanted to talk to him, rather than treat him as a distressed child.

"I have a theory," he said. "Your father survived Avada Kedavra twice. When cast from one of the most powerful and evil wizards ever to exist. If I was a killer, I wouldn't use a method that had failed twice before." James nodded, thinking he had a very valid point. "Go to your mother," Hopkins said quietly. "She'll want to see you're safe after today." Hopkins turned and walked away and James realised that he was right. So he looked at his fathers grave one more time and then turned and left him to the cold earth.

The next evening James returned to Hogwarts. Selfish as it was, he didn't want to stay in a house so filled with grief, and going back to school wouldn't make his father any worse off, so it was what he chose to do. His mother had been crying when they said goodbye, but that wasn't unusual these days. Anything could set her off. Before leaving, he gave his mother a long hug. Usually he felt he was too old for it, but he knew his mother needed comfort. "Take care of yourself," she said urgently. "Anything suspicious or abnormal, send us an owl."

"I will," he said, even though he knew he wouldn't. He wasn't going to add to his family's worries. It never occured to James that his fathers killer might be after him as well.

He used the floo powder and came out of the fire in the Hufflepuff common room, causing some third years playing Gobstones near the hearth to squeal with alarm as a student came out of the fire. He scanned the common room, looking for Lucy and found her, curled up on a sofa, quill and parchment on her lap, against a large book as she scribbled something down. She looked up and saw James with a start. Lucy rolled the parchment up and then walked over to him. "How are you?"

"Not here," he said grimly, noticing that everyone was trying to listen. "Meet me outside the barrels in five minutes," he whispered. She nodded and didn't ask questions. James went up to his dormitory and quickly grabbed the invisibility cloak. He didn't mind talking to Lucy, but he wanted to be out of the Hufflepuff common room when he did it. He covered himself up and then left, finding Lucy waiting outside. She turned as the barrels moved, letting James out, but of course she couldn't see him. Then she watched open mouthed as he took the cloak off and appeared out of thin air.

"That's amazing!" she said. "Wow!" James grinned. The smile felt strange on his face.

"Get under the cloak," he said. "I want to talk away from everyone else." She nodded, eyes wide as the cloak covered her.

"This is awesome!" James smiled again, and kept walking until they found an empty classroom.

"So, how are you?"

"Terrible," he said. "My fathers dead."

"I know how you feel," she said quietly.

"You can't."

"My dads dead too," she said quietly. "I told you at the feast."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I forgot," he said, feeling guilty.

"Anyway, I know how you feel," she repeated. "So what happened?" James took a deep breath and told her everything.

"So this man, Drood, killed your father?" James nodded. "But why? Who is he? Why would he want your father dead?"

"Those are questions I don't have answers to," he said grimly. Lucy opened her mouth to speak but James shushed her quickly. He heard a noise in the corridor.

"Get under the cloak!" he hissed. She did, and just in time. Peeves the poltergeist came into the room, no doubt attracted by the sound of their voices.

"I know you're there," he said, his voice holding all sorts of mischief. "Are you hiding from Peeves? Students shouldn't be out of bed and roaming around the castle at this time of night, you know. It's against the rules." They both stayed perfectly still under the cloak. "Oh dear, not going to come clean are we?" he said, his voice taking on a sneer. "I'll call Filtch, and see if that makes you…"

"Run!" James shouted as Peeves moved from the doorway to investigate. They both did, clutching the cloak around them like a protective shield. They ran through the castle until they got to the entrance to the common room "Tita Morgis!" James breathed at the barrel. To no effect. Then he realised that they needed to tap the barrel. Lucy was one step ahead of him, wand at the ready.

"Password?" the barrel asked after the sequence.

"Tita Morgis!" they both said desperately. The barrel moved and let them inside, but not until it closed behind them did they feel safe.

"Remind me never to go traipsing around the castle with you at night ever again!" Lucy said, throwing the cloak off of herself and clutching a stitch in her side. James just grinned. If he had inherited anything at all from his father, he knew it wouldn't be the last time he'd bump into Peeves on a night time stroll.

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