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Here's another chapter for you...!

James Potter was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He was top of the class in Defence Against the Dark Arts, he had an awesome prank to play on those annoying girls, and to cap it off, it was Christmas soon and he'd be going home for the holidays. Though, hopefully, his dad would be coming to give a lecture to a couple of fifth-years in a couple of days and he'd be able to see him then.

The fact that Alice Longbottom had gone to the Hospital Wing was slightly worrying- he'd never seen a person go that shade of green before. He supposed, though, that she was in good hands with Catrin Jones.

Catrin Jones...in all truth, James didn't know what to make of her, but he would never admit something like that to anyone, not even Fred. She and her funny accent had swanned into Hogwarts completely unprepared and had somehow managed to keep up with all the others- even him! Which was why he didn't want her getting better at Defence, and why he had to win this competition. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of losing. He strongly suspected that behind those quiet grey eyes lay a determination as fierce as his, and a personality which was completely different from the quiet one that she usually exhibited. He just had to pay a visit to Hagrid...

James stretched out lazily on his chair- placed at a respectably cool distance from the front- and grinned at Fred, who returned his smile. Fred- his partner in crime- was much better than that annoying Umbridge, but he didn't want to tell Fred that, as he seemed to have taken a liking to him. He stared past Dawlish's head, into the cloudless afternoon sky. Defence Against the Dark Arts was all very well, but when confronted with perfect flying weather...

That was when his pencil-case moved.

James' attention snapped to it as it slowly pushed itself along the desk, and then stopped, looking deceptively innocent.

He glanced at Fred. Did you see that?

But his friend merely shook his head and frowned in confusion.

James ran his hand through his hair and then decided to ignore it. It was a figment of his imagination. Everything was- was something breathing in his ear?

Panicked, he swatted his hand out to the side, but his flailing hand encountered nothing, and he overbalanced, crashing onto the hard oak planks of the floor.

"I was hoping that my lessons were interesting enough that you wouldn't fall asleep during class, Mr Potter." Dawlish's icy voice cut through the classroom like a whip, hushing the giggles of the students as they waited to find out his punishment.

"No, sir. I just...I just leant down to pick up my quill and overbalanced." James widened his eyes with angelic virtuousness, perfected during his fights with Albus and Lily. This was a failsafe ploy- most of the time, anyway. "I wasn't asleep; your lesson was fascinating."

"Oh really- what was I just talking about?" Dawlish leaned back in his chair and raised one eyebrow dryly.

Help! James glanced at Fred, who covertly mouthed vampires.

"Vampires, sir."

"Hmm." Dawlish grunted. He paused- "Very well. Carry on taking notes: I'll see them at the end of the lesson."

"Of course." James grinned- and then grimaced at the auror's back as he turned to chalk up a few more sentences. Idiot. Dad had never liked him anyway.

"What was that?" Fred mouthed at James, who shook his head and reached for his ink-pot- to find it wasn't there. This was getting ridiculous! He searched his pencil-case, and then, with a dawning horror, he realised that the wetness underneath him definitely wasn't due to him having bladder trouble.

Sure enough, when he reached underneath his robes, the fingers that came up were ink-stained.

And then he realised that his quill was scratching his head for him.

"The joke's over, Fred!" He hissed, but his friend merely looked at him, wide-eyed. and quite possibly innocent.

In dawning disbelief, James watched as his pencil-case slowly turned violet, his quill began undulating on the spot, and the liquid underneath him turned out to be the Colour Changing Ink which was supposed to be securely locked upstairs in his trunk.

"Right." James reached for his wand, furious- and then dropped it with a muffled yelp as it morphed into a haddock in front of his eyes.

Fred seemed to be having similar problems: his writing implements were performing a spontaneous conga right in front of his horrified eyes.

The boys were starting to attract attention: muffled titters were spreading through the classroom as the other students started to notice his predicament. With a creeping suspicion, he looked around to the top row of seats, where Mary and that Muggle-born- Victoria? Valerie- were giggling with the best of them.

It was Catrin! She'd come back from depositing Alice and was somehow causing mayhem! James seethed even as his ears turned scarlet with fury and embarrassment. This was the stupid prank! He'd have to get her back three times as worse!

But then-

"Sorry I'm late, sir: I had to take Alice Longbottom to the Hospital Wing."

He and Fred goggled at each other, twisting round to see that Catrin Jones had come through the door, dark hair hiding her face.

"Indeed?" Dawlish drawled at her. "And what was the problem, Miss Jones?"

"She was an interesting shade of green." Catrin commented lightly, slipping into her seat next to Mary. "But Madam Pomfrey says she'll be alright soon."

"Excellent. Well, I hope your friends have been taking notes; otherwise you'll have missed out on Vampire Identification and Repulsion techniques. Don't worry, you'll still have homework..."

As the professor droned on, James turned to Fred, who was trying to subdue his dancing pencil with difficulty.

"If it's not those girls..."he hissed.

Fred completed his question, looking equally baffled, or as baffled as one can be whilst trying to sit on a writing implement. "Then who is it?"

"Ah, boys! It seems that you can't sit still during my lessons! Well, I'll obviously have to train you. Detention Saturday night, seven o'clock, my office."

"But sir-!" Protested James, feeling a dead weight sink to his stomach. That was the first first-year detention, probably! His mum- and Fred's- would kill them! "It was because of-"

"Because of what, exactly?"

James swallowed, and cast a sideways glance at his friend. It was obvious to anyone that their story wouldn't stand up under anyone's scrutiny.

"Nothing, sir." He felt a great wave of hatred towards Dawlish- it was surprising that the auror couldn't feel it.

"Nothing at all." Fred muttered.

Beside them, his quill drooped as if in shame.

Catrin had only been able to take part in half of the trick, but once Alice had started, she felt that her friend had the situation firmly under control.

Once disappearing from sight, the friends had taken it upon themselves to make Fred and James' lesson as uncomfortable as possible- and judging by their furious expressions, they had succeeded by quite a bit. All they had to do was cast a couple of charms, move a couple of items and, once the liquid had worn off, slip out of the door and back into the classroom, pretending that nothing had happened. Simple!

"Next time, I'm going to be the invisible one." Muttered Mary as she watched Fred battling his books back into his bag.

"Sure. Success, though, eh?" Catrin grinned, as the bell went.

With a great creaking of chairs, the class began to clump away, James with a colour changing blob on the back of his robes. The girls made to follow but-

"Miss Jones! One word, if you please!"

Busted! Eyes wide, Catrin glanced at Mary and Valerie, both of whom shared the same dumbstruck expressions. She was in for a rough ride now: that was for sure.

Biting her lip, Catrin made her way to the front of the class where Dawlish was stacking away textbooks. She didn't dare look at him; instead she stared at the blackboard, which was magically wiping itself clean.

"Miss Jones, here is your essay."
Surprised, Catrin looked down as a scroll waved itself in front of her nose. She looked up to see the scarred face of the auror smiling at her.

"A very impressive improvement, Miss Jones. Nearly full marks, so I see that you've managed to sort out your handwriting."

"Y-yes sir." She stammered.

"I trust that your work will only continue to improve."
"It'll try, sir. I mean..yes, professor." And then, before she could stop herself- "When is Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts? Could he give us a talk?" This was immediatley followed by a sudden rememberance of his face on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but she dismissed it. She hadn't met him, so he wouldn't exactly have a grudge against her.

"Hmm...keen, aren't you? Alright, I'll talk to him and see if he can spare any time. The younger Potter will be thrilled, I'm sure."

Catrin hid her smile of triumph from Professor Dawlish, and said goodbye. On her way out, he called after her.

"Dark things are stirring again, Miss Jones. I would listen closely to Harry Potter's speech if I were you."

"Yes sir." And then- "Wierd." She muttered to herself, leaving him and his brooding behind.

Mary pounced on her as soon as she'd exited the classroom. "Oh, are you okay? Merlin's beard, that guy has such a hairy heart! What was the punishment?"

"It wasn't a punishment." Catrin replied. "He gave me my essay back –which was wonderful, by the way- and then told me to watch my back. Strange, huh?"

"Good, you mean. So our little plot actually worked!" Whooped Mary triumphantly, punching the air with one fist. "When's Alice re-appearing?"

"She took more potion than me; it should be around half-an-hour." Catrin replied absently. "I think that she's going to slip off to the Hospital Wing and pretend to be sick, to get us an alibi." She slipped her essay into her bag. "I wonder why the Slytherins need that potion?" And why people keep disappearing, she added silently.

"Who cares? It worked!" Mary hollered, slinging an arm around Valerie's shoulder in celebration. "Come on, Catrin, crack a smile!"

Catrin tried, but for some reason her heart wasn't in it. The Slytherin thing was bothering her.

I'll figure it out as soon as I can. She promised herself.

That night, Catrin went to the library and searched the archives by lamplight for any mention of Lavender Thomas or Maria Creevey. The only thing that she thought could possibly link them was that they had both been in the famous Battle of Hogwarts. Lavender was older than Maria, as well as Muggle-born, and from what she could gather, had been high up in the ministry. Meanwhile, Maria was a housewife and a half-blood. They had also both been in Gryffindor...

So it had to be to do with the notorious Lord Voldemort- only Voldemort supporters would have a grudge against the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts. But why? She had thought that his forces were scattered, and all the better for that.

She turned to the next newspaper, proclaiming: Marianne Smith gets prime job as Chief Unspeakable! and gave it up as a bad she needed was to find out the contents and purpose of that potion, and how it was used...if only there could be another disappearance, in Hogwarts.

Catrin sighed, sweeping her hair back and glancing out of the large window at the end of her row into the navy-blue sky outside. The library would be closing in an hour and first-years were supposed to be in the Common Room by seven. She started to pack the Daily Prophets back into their boxes, yawning as she did so, and rubbing her eyes against the soft yellow light.

That was when another headline caught her eye: Exclusive Interview with the Squad Who Saved Potter! Hestia Jones, Daedalus Diggle and more!

Hestia Jones...Catrin was sure she'd heard the name somewhere. For a few seconds she racked her brains, and then it came to her: Gwedolen, her mother, had often talked about a Hestia Jones to Catrin. Was she a relation? If so, why hadn't her mother told her daughter about her, seeing as they had been that close? And why wouldn't she have also discussed her possibly magical family? Catrin was doubtful that her mother had gone to Hogwarts; the Sorting Hat had been rather specific about her father.

So if Hestia Jones was related: this was a pretty big was, but Catrin was willing to take that chance- if she was related, maybe she knew who Catrin's father had been! Prior to this anti-revelation, the only thing she could've done to get details was to go up to the Headmistress' Office and give the Hat a good shake...or talk to Harry Potter, whose shocked face she still remembered. Maybe she still would...

Excited, she scrabbled over the pages until she found the article...

And that was when she heard the slight rustling from one aisle over, followed by the slow, careful footsteps of a person who doesn't want to be noticed.

Curiosity aroused, Catrin quickly glanced around for Madam Pince, the hunch-backed librarian who patrolled the library with an eagle's eye for book-related disrespect- and quickly pulled several books out of the shelf in front of her, creating a small window for her to look through, laying them down precisely on either side of the newspaper article. Maybe this person was doing something completely innocent...but why, then, were they patrolling around the entrance to the Restricted Section?

Her hunch paid off: a quick glance revealed the culprit to be a pinch-faced, third-year McLaggen, who was looking furtive and clutching a thick, mildew-spotted tome in his hands. Squinting, she could just about make out the title of the page that he was holding open: Disguising Charms.

Strange...a part of Catrin suddenly expressed a desire to go out and challenge him. Alarmed, she suppressed it and concentrated on stacking newspapers away. It was nothing to do with her, nothing at all...

Another quick peek showed that he was moving away, but towards a blank wall. Was he trying to examine it or something? A shadow obscured his face, but she thought he was mouthing something. To the wall? Maybe he was insane...that would explain a lot.

Nosy! Her mind screamed at her. Trouble! Bad! Reckless!

She ignored it and tiptoed to the end of the aisle. McLaggen was indeed examining the wall with superfluous interest. She strained to see what was wrong...then he turned, almost giving her a heart attack, and walked back into the depths of the library.

Catrin stumbled back out of sight as he walked past, trusting her small frame to the shadows. She furrowed her brow as he walked past: things were most definitely afoot in Hogwarts.

The book was unquestionably not in his arms.

Well, it seemed that Dawlish had been right about something, Catrin thought as she left the newspapers to the scrutiny of Madam Pince. Trouble was afoot, and she would need some help before the year was out. Family-finding was out of the question.

But she took the clipping of Hestia Jones with her.