Chapter 33: The Last Stand

The seconds after Professor Gladstone fell seemed to take hours. It was as if James was watching everything happen in slow-motion. He became vaguely aware of the chamber suddenly becoming a wind tunnel, late winter winds stirring his brown hair into a furor.

Then, through the whistling gale, a scream, unlike anything James had ever heard: "MERIDIAAAAAAA!"

Then a darting shadow, black from head to toe, rushed past him.

A red explosion of light shone in the corner of James's eye. A duel had started. Yet James could not act; he stood there transfixed for as he watched Professor Malcolm running toward the broken window through which he had seen his betrothed fall, then, with no hesitation, hurling himself through it headfirst into the void.

If James Potter had just witnessed a suicide, he did not have time to dwell on it; another sudden nearby explosion jolted him back to reality. His head snapped around, looking for the source. He did not have to look long.

Professor Ambrose's glasses had come off. He was swinging his wand wildly, his face locked in a berserk snarl, sometimes producing spells with his movements, sometimes failing to do so. What spells he did cast seemed ineffectual as Wenster calmly backed away, deflecting them with strokes of his own wand.

And to make it all worse, Wenster was taunting him:

"All this rage and emotion for a woman that didn't love you, and never will."

"WHY?!" Ambrose snarled, sounding as pained and enraged as a wounded animal. "WHY MERIDIA?!"

"My oath," Wenster replied simply. "Flynn Lester resolved to stand in our way all those years ago. I told him Claudia's story - what had happened to her because she and I both knew too much. Claudia and Meridia even looked somewhat alike…"

"You told him to stand down - or you'd kill her, just like the Death Eaters killed Claudia," Ambrose breathed. "That's why he disappeared. He loved her, and you threatened her life."

"For what it's worth, I did not enjoy it. Any of it." Wenster said, his face in a grim, cold frown. "Any more than I will enjoy this."

If this was meant to deter Ambrose, it did not work. The Potions master raised his wand and came at Wenster relentlessly. Most of the curses manifested as jets of differently colored light and, since he was yelling instead of incanting, James couldn't even tell what curses he was using.

A silver burst staggered Wenster just a bit, and it was at that point he seemed to decide enough was enough. He slashed at the air with his wand, prompting Ambrose to jump backward. Ambrose lost his footing and began to stumble. Wenster pointed his wand directly at Ambrose's face.

There was a horrid crunch, and the Head of Slytherin House went limp, like a marionette with its strings cut. He was knocked out - or perhaps worse - before he hit the ground.

"James Potter!" Wenster turned toward him. James swallowed hard and steeled himself. Somehow, he knew it would have to come to this. But what chance did he have? Wenster walked slowly. Apparently the fact that he had just assaulted half of Hogwarts' leadership did not bother him in the slightest. And James, of course, compared to them, wasn't the slightest threat. A mere insect in a den of lions. "Observe the fruits of your labor."

A gust of wind came through the broken windows, blowing debris and dust through the suddenly ransacked office. Ambrose's robes rippled in the gusts, but his body was, completely and disconcertingly, motionless.

James's brain shouted at him to raise his wand and defend himself, for God's sake - but the message never made it to his limbs. He felt like he was locked in place somehow. And even with the cold winter air blowing in from outside, he could feel sweat beading on his forehead.

But then, a voice spoke to him from inside his head: You made an oath too.

He went to his pocket...

"No further," Halim interposed himself very suddenly between James and Wenster. Then, turning his head, he said, "Run, James Potter! Now!"

Run? Thought James. To where?

The two teachers began dueling. They were rather close to each other, their spells ricocheting off each other's defences and doing strange things like setting the Headmaster's desk on fire and turning a nearby candelabra into a flock of bats, but then Halim hit Wenster with some sort of spell wreathed in blue flames, causing the latter to slide backward.

Wenster's eyes, arctic and azure, flashed ominously in the shadows.

Halim went to work furiously, tracing a complex-looking shape in the air with his wand as Wenster reared back.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

"POTTER, GET DOWN!"

James ducked and shut his eyes as he heard the sound of an awful explosion thunder around him. He braced for heat or the impact of debris, but again realized he was unaffected and popped back to his feet. There, he saw that the floor to either side of him was devastated - carpet burned, floorboards snapped and taken up, embers dancing around a fading dome of blue light that seemed to have surrounded only James himself and Professor Halim.

A symbol hovered before them, in a blindingly bright blue… James recognized it…

It was a rune, pronounced 'eihwaz' for 'defence'...

A plume of smoke remained of the action as the light from the rune faded. Wenster stepped forward. Professor Halim redoubled his grip on his wand. Both wizards' breathing was a bit labored. Wenster's arm lowered, just a bit…

"POTTER, NO!" Halim shouted as James worked his way around his teacher's body, raising his wand.

"Stupefy!"

Wenster hadn't expected James to attack. He blocked it, but just barely ("Protego!"), and staggered. James swore. That had been his best shot for a hit…

"Locomotor Mortis!"

Against James's will, he felt his legs snap together. His body lurched forward and he barely got his hands down in time to keep from smashing his face into the floor.

"Don't be a fool, boy, I don't want to have to - damn!"

Two seconds later, Halim and Wenster were fighting again. James could only discern pairs of legs and bursts of light. One of them let out a cry of pain - James wasn't sure who. But then, flexing his fingers, James realized that a Leg-Locker Curse was just that. His hands and arms still worked. He aimed toward where he thought he saw a scarlet cloak…

"Brach-AAAAAAAAAARRRGGGHH!"

Something heavy and hard had landed on his back. He felt his ribcage pressed into the ground unnaturally. He struggled against the new weight atop his prone body until he heard a low growl that made his blood run cold.

Even if he could look up and behind him, he dared not. He knew what it was. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the pain of a bite at the nape of his neck, wondering how badly it would hurt, wondering how much of it he would feel before everything inevitably faded...

After several moments, he felt the weight lifted off of him.

"Potter? Are you alright? Potter?" a familiar voice called. James couldn't answer. A fit of coughing overtook him. What was worse, each cough felt like a sledgehammer to the chest. "Potter."

He felt hands turn him from his belly onto his back. He could not resist, nor did he want to. But the pain from what must have been broken ribs surprised him, and he let out a yell. Vaguely, he perceived one of his legs flop and realized they were no longer bound together by magic. Swimming in his blurred vision was a brownish face that James only recognized by the voice attached to it.

"Foolish," the professor said, shaking his head gravely. "Brave…" his eyebrows raised. "...but foolish."

"W-Wenster…" James coughed out deliriously.

"Gone," Halim replied, as his face at last began to come slightly into focus. "It was either chase him or save you."

"Save…?" James murmured in query, his eyes blearily darting around himself. There were many white fragments of something or other, the largest a boulder in the shape of a lion's head.

James, despite himself and despite the pain involved, couldn't help to start to breathe heavily in his anxiety. "Gladstone… oh, god… what have…"

"They will be fine," Halim reassured him. "Professor Malcolm will make sure of it."

Normally, the concept of leaving something to Professor Malcolm would have made James uneasy… but whatever else the man was (and James still wasn't sure) it had become obvious that he loved Gladstone more than anything. Halim was right. No harm - well, no more harm - would come to her if Malcolm had a say in it.

In front of him, James caught sight of his blonde-tailed, red-shafted Cleansweep broom. Malcolm should have used it, come of think of it… would've been much better than just diving out of the window and having to figure out a plan literally on the fly, wouldn't it…?

Halim shook his head sadly. "Extremely foolish, James Potter."

"I wanted…" James swallowed hard and didn't finish his sentence. "I… Brynne's parents… they died because of him…"

"Brynne… a friend?" James wasn't sure if Professor Halim knew Brynne personally. She didn't take Ancient Runes with him, after all. As much as he could in his pain-racked state, James forced a nod. "...A girl?"

James looked away from him. It sounded very childish and petty when he said it that way. All this over a girl...

"Nothing to be ashamed from," Halim said, however. (His English was typically very good, but he occasionally made slips like this.) "Wiser men have done far worse in the name of young love."

Love?

It hadn't really ever occurred to James to actually use that word. He knew that there was some sort of bond between them, and it was deep. He knew that he would do anything for her sake, knew that seeing her walk into a room felt like clouds breaking and giving way to sunlight. But that word sounded too…

Too…

He didn't know. It was getting dark. And he was cold. He couldn't see Halim's face anymore.

He missed her. The real her. Maybe, if they lived through this somehow, he'd take her up to watch a sunset from the Astron-

His thought and senses abandoned him suddenly, and everything went black.

Brynne

"Snow. Of course it's bloody snowing."

"Whinge, whinge, whinge. Grow some bollocks already."

"I did. I think I've frozen them off."

Brynne silently agreed with both boys as the wind whistled across the great white viaduct bridge. Like Kadric Howell, she didn't much like the cold.

Like Shelby Fletcher-Hawes, she didn't quite think this was the time to be worrying about it.

"They say bodies don't rot as quick in the cold…" Hawes pointed out after a few moments of wintry silence.

"Don't say stuff like that." Phillip Bletchley was in front of everyone, peering into the distance down the viaduct bridge for any sign of trouble. Brynne wasn't sure what he thought he could see from this far away. This grayish-white bridge was absurdly long, about wide enough for a half dozen to walk abreast. And off either edge was a sheer drop so far that the fog and snow made the ground (or maybe water?) below impossible to see.

"And why not?" asked Hawes. "You think we're gonna survive this somehow?"

"Yes," Bletchley answered bluntly.

"How's that?" Hawes replied, walking past Brynne to Bletchley's side. "And before you say 'he wouldn't', he definitely would - that's why we started the Progenies in the first place, innit?"

Bletchley folded his arms. "You can run if you like."

"No, I can't," Hawes countered. "Not if you're staying. It's not like I can let a third year show me up. If anybody should be running, it's you."

"Not going to happen," Bletchley replied. Brynne wondered why Hawes had even bothered asking.

"If we're being honest..." Hawes said, and his tone was grave. "I'm not sure this is the hill to die on."

"This is a bridge, not a hill," Bletchley answered. "And I don't plan on dying."

"Phil, seriously." Hawes reached out and yanked the boy around by the shoulder. "Think about Alaine."

Brynne hadn't heard that name in a while. She almost forgot about her sometimes, Phillip brought her up so seldom. Or maybe it was just that they hadn't talked properly in a while.

"I am," Bletchley intoned. "That's why I'm here."

Brynne didn't remember how old Alaine Bletchley would be as of now. The two siblings weren't terribly close in age, but neither were they terribly far apart. The age gap was such that he would still be here at Hogwarts when Alaine started her first year. Brynne remembered him saying that much. Bletchley didn't talk about her much if at all except to say that she existed, and anyone that referenced her too loudly in conversation (Tellius had made this mistake once or twice) would get a cold glare in response. It was almost as if Bletchley thought she would be in danger if her name were spoken aloud-

Brynne heard herself gasp as the realization hit her - maybe that was exactly what Bletchley thought….

This gasp, somewhat unfortunately, got Bletchley's attention.

"You need to get out of here, Brynne," he said, walking toward her.

Brynne didn't meet his eye. "I'm not going to do that."

"You don't even like fighting," Bletchley pointed out - although he sounded more concerned than disdainful. "That's… that's what this is going to be, you know - a fight."

"Yeah, assuming anyone even shows up," Hawes piped in from afar. "What makes you sure he's coming this way?"

"You can't Apparate in or out of Hogwarts - everybody knows that," Bletchley explained. "This is the fastest way off the grounds."

"And what if he can fly?" Hawes queried. "Did you account for that?"

Bletchley frowned. Clearly, he hadn't.

Hawes sighed. "What the hell am I doing here? Should've done like everyone else…"

Nott had found Hawes and Hawes alone at the library. Other than Bletchley, none of the other Progenies had shown up. Brynne could only imagine the reasons why; no one ever thought they would actually be called on to fight against a Hogwarts professor. Many had gone back to more-or-less normal student lives in the fall after Godric's Guard was said to have disbanded. A few, Hawes reasoned, had little sympathy for Scorpius Malfoy, who had been a former Godric's Guard member and had gone out of his way to try to gain favor with Wenster earlier in the year.

Whatever the reasons, the upshot of it was that Bletchley and Shelby Fletcher-Hawes were the only two left. Apparently, Lena Urquhart had given Marsha Flint a black eye during their earlier scuffle. As for Amara Zabini, Bletchley had flat out told her to stay away from the fight for some reason. Granted, she wasn't much of a duelist… but neither were Brynne, Kadric Howell and Tellius Nott.

"Five of us," Hawes muttered. "Other than me, we're all third years and a couple of you can't even duel… not that it would matter if you could. Wenster's going to blow us to bits... or Transfigure us into roaches. Or Transfigure us into roaches and then-"

"Why did you come here, then?" asked Bletchley, seemingly losing his patience with his older friend. "If it's hopeless, then why even show up?"

"I need to know something," Hawes answered firmly, though he didn't explain what that 'something' was.

Bletchley made a disgusted face. "Bloody cowards," he muttered bitterly. But then he set his eyes on Brynne. "I don't…"

He looked away from her for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried again.

"I don't know if I'm gonna get another chance to say this… Brynne," he said. "I should've told you a long time ago."

Brynne frowned. "We already had this conversation, Phillip."

"No, that's not what I meant," Bletchley answered quickly, his eyes darting away for just a moment. "See, the truth is… about Wenster…"

Bletchley trailed off, and when Brynne tried to look him in the eye, he did not respond in kind. There was a mix of pain and shame on his face, and Brynne could have even sworn she saw his eyes watering a bit.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Hawes's voice loudly interrupted the proceedings.

"Down, boy - we're not here to fight you," a voice with an accent Brynne recognized replied. Brynne looked up, as did Bletchley. The latter's jaw unhinged a bit.

"Murphy!" Brynne exclaimed.

"I don't know," said Murphy immediately, shaking his head. Not meeting her eye, he added, "He went up to the Headmaster's Tower by himself, and…"

But Richard Murphy had not come by himself. Two teenagers Brynne instantly recognized as a pair of the Weasley cousins were there, as well as a tall boy with dark skin that Brynne recognized as a Prefect - Tom something or other. There was a fourth Brynne didn't recognize, a boy of maybe about sixteen or seventeen.

"Did someone hear Professor Malcolm's voice earlier?" asked the youth that Brynne didn't know.

"Pretty sure," the dark-skinned Prefect said gravely. "And if he was calling himself Acting Headmaster, that means something's happened to Gladstone…"

The only girl with them frowned. The expression pulled her cheeks downward and threw some of her freckles into relief.

"Where's Rowan?" Brynne asked Murphy insistently. "He was with you, wasn't he?"

"He and Rose took off for the seventh floor," Murphy answered. Brynne didn't need him to say much more than that - she knew what 'seventh floor' meant. The question was, what was their play…?

"How'd you know to find us here?" asked Brynne.

The boy Weasley simply smirked in response. "I don't think James has introduced us properly. Freddy Weasley."

He proffered a hand, which Brynne took.

"I'm Roxanne," the girl replied from a slight distance, "Freddy's older sister."

This got a quick, deadpan response from Freddy. "Bullshit."

The tall, dark Prefect boy nodded aimlessly. "Well, technically…"

"Get bent, Tommy - it's by ten minutes, if that," Freddy groused.

Tommy chuckled.

"Now, what about you, eh?" Shelby Fletcher-Hawes had approached very close to the one lad not to introduce himself.

"Hey, hey - c'mon now," Tommy was back 'prefecting' in a flash, interposing himself between Hawes and the other boy.

"Don't think I've forgotten," Hawes said, his face locked in a scowl. Tilting his head, he said, "Macmillan? Hmm?"

"You lot ever find who hexed Cora?" the unknown boy asked, unmoved by Hawes' obvious attempt to be intimidating.

"Sure did," Hawes answered. "Eamonn Temple."

The boy stared at Hawes as if Confunded for about three seconds, then tore his eyes away, shaking his head and silently mouthing something about someone's "mother-"...

"I think we've got bigger problems at the moment," Bletchley pointed out.

"Yeah," admitted the boy. "Nina Edgerton and Liz O'Connell came back saying Wenster had attacked Malfoy in full view of their Transfiguration class. A lot of people didn't believe them because… well, Nina and Liz. But anybody that spent as much time around Wenster as I did should've known better than to dismiss it out of hand…"

"Why'd you join up with him, then?" asked Hawes. "That makes you as guilty as he is, if you ask me."

"Nobody did," Tommy chimed in. "Now, back off."

There was a long, tense standoff - but Hawes eventually backed away, his sharp exhale producing a cloud of white mist near his mouth.

"You think our chances are any better now?" Kadric Howell asked Tellius Nott nearby.

Tellius frowned. "We might survive."

Murphy looked at both Slytherin boys and bit his lip. When he turned to Brynne, his eyes were sad. "James wanted me to tell you -"

"He can tell me himself," Brynne replied to Murphy, punctuating her answer with a smile. Murphy did not return it.

"Brynne," he called, his face as hard as stone and his voice almost as heavy. A grimace creased his lips. But Brynne could see something in his eyes. Uncertainty.

"You don't have to stay," she said simply. "If you don't want to."

Murphy stared down at the cobbles of the bridge beneath his feet. His amber eyes wandered to the side, somewhere off the edge of the bridge.

"That's not an option, Brynne," he said simply. "You didn't see the look in his eye. He's ready to stop Wenster today or die trying. He might have already done..."

"Don't say that!" Brynne interrupted, feeling her voice rise with panic. "Don't…"

"OI!" Hawes' voice rang in the vast expanse between castle, bridge, and water. "Heads up!"

Bletchley looked skyward - as did Murphy and several of the other students.

"What is that?" asked Tommy. It took several moments for Brynne to find the object of everyone's attention. Something or someone was coming their way from above, its flight ungainly and almost lopsided. It rolled awkwardly as it approached.

"Looks like somebody on a broom," commented Freddy.

Hawes snarled. "Damn! Well, don't just stand there gawping - shoot him down!"

Closer to Brynne, Murphy's face changed. "Hold on…"

And that's when Brynne knew. She broke into a run.

"Wait!" she shouted, approaching Bletchley, who was raising his wand to fire a spell at the approaching form. "Phillip, stop!"

"What's - what are you doing?" asked Bletchley as Brynne forcefully pulled his wand arm down.

"That's not Wenster," Brynne replied quickly, looking up as the flyer descended just close enough to see. The broom rolled, then dumped its rider in the middle of them from a considerable height with a loud and painful-sounding thud.

The new arrival brought everyone to silence. They were all on their feet, as motionless as he was on the ground.

"JAMES!" Murphy broke the quiet with a yell, running toward the fallen rider.

James stirred - but he was obviously injured, and not himself. After initially resisting - maybe he hadn't recognized Murphy for a moment - he allowed Murphy to help him to his feet. Even when he reached them, however, he staggered sideways. Brynne ran to help steady him on the other side. When their eyes met, his were glassy, but found her face.

"What the hell happened up there?!" Bletchley snarled, approaching him.

Something fierce jumped out of Brynne at that moment. "Can you give him three seconds, for God's sake? He's out of sorts."

But James defied her. "I'm fine," he slurred. "A little... but I'll live. Gladstone and Ambrose, though…"

There was a pause as the implications of this half-sentence landed.

"Ambrose?!" Bletchley shouted in an uncharacteristic panic. "What happened to Ambrose?!"

James took several deep breaths, all of which rose in white puffs of smoke at his face because of the cold. Then, he finally spoke: "Wenster cursed him. He wasn't moving when…"

He trailed off.

Bletchley's entire body slackened, including his jaw. "Damn…"

"It gets worse," James said grimly. "He sent… he sent Gladstone... through one of the windows."

Freddy Weasley looked at his sister, who mouthed, "Oh, my god…"

"What?!" Tommy shouted, looking up toward the Headmaster's Tower. "You mean… no, you can't mean… not from up there?! That's... "

He put his hand up to his head, maybe to grasp at some of the dreadlocks he'd had for years before just then remembering that they were no longer there to grab.

"That tower's gotta be at least a hundred feet tall," Tommy said blankly. "If nothing broke her fall, then she…"

He put his hand around his mouth, not daring to finish the sentence. There was no need. Everyone there knew. If Professor Gladstone hadn't broken her fall from that high up, then the chances of her having survived were slim to none.

"It all went wrong…" James said, shaking his head. "I thought I could get him to confess and it just…"

He trailed off and looked down.

"Damn it…" he groaned. "That wasn't even the real memory, it was just a bluff…"

Murphy looked at him. "Wait a second. Then-?"

But Brynne had locked in on something else James had said. "Confess? What do you mean, 'confess'? To what?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Bletchley said. "If Professor Gladstone is dead and he killed her, that still makes him a murderer. Only difference now is he's doing his murders hims…"

He stopped mid-sentence and glared at James. Brynne wasn't sure if James was glaring back or just trying to keep his eyes open.

"What do you mean, 'memory'?" Bletchley asked suddenly.

"Wenster's Pensieve," choked James. "It had… everything."

"You went up to the Headmaster's Tower with that?!" snapped Bletchley. "Why would you do something like that?!"

"Of course I didn't - that's what I'm saying!" James bit back. "I was going to - to deliver it to Gladstone before they chucked Scorpius Malfoy out of Hogwarts for something he didn't do. But the others thought it was too dangerous. Rose worked some sort of charm on the vial to make a perfect copy. I'd never heard of the spell, it's pretty advanced magic…"

"You mean a Doubling Charm?" piped in Tommy.

"Too right, that's advanced - we had to do one for our O.W.L.s last year," Freddy remarked, glancing at Roxanne.

Bletchley looked down and, oddly, smiled. "That sounds like Rose… what happened to her? Does she have the real one?"

James didn't respond. Bletchley's smile slid off his face.

"So… I don't mean to come off flippant, but what does any of that have to do with us standing on this viaduct freezing our bollocks off?" queried the Gryffindor boy whose name Brynne didn't know.

"Speak for yourself, Pike," Roxanne replied.

"You think Wenster's going to stick around Hogwarts after all of that?" Bletchley asked impatiently. "Of course not. He's going to try to escape."

"And we're going to stop him," James said.

"You're joking, right?" Murphy uttered. "You can barely stand up."

At this, James sighed deeply and straightened.

"I'm breathing," he said, now standing on his own (although very obviously favoring his ribs). "That's what I said. 'As long as I'm breathing.'"

He looked straight at Bletchley.

"You were right. I don't know how you managed to find out," he said, "but you were right. I just thought you should know that."

Bletchley looked away from him, then nodded toward no one in particular. "She should know," he said. "From you."

"No."

Bletchley's head snapped up and he stared at James.

"From him."

Bletchley gaped at James in confusion for a moment. But a lightbulb must have gone off in his head. Something in both boys' faces hardened, and they exchanged a nod.

"Talk about awful luck," Murphy quipped, looking over his shoulder and toward the castle. "Of all days for Wenster to go completely mad, it had to be snowing…"

"It's just him, right?" asked Isaac Pike. "Nobody else? I noticed Temple hadn't come back to the Tower…"

"Temple's probably still napping in Wenster's office," commented Murphy with a scoff. Brynne understood that to mean that said 'nap' had probably been forced upon him.

James nodded. "He's alone."

"Oh. Great. That means we'll be able to put up a fight," said Shelby Fletcher-Hawes morosely.

"It means we can win," James said, glancing at Murphy. "Or at least stall him long enough for the Ministry to get here."

"How do you know the Ministry's even coming?" Bletchley asked.

"They're coming," James reassured him confidently.

"STUDENTS."

Everyone whirled around toward the castle at that moment. A tall form in a snow-flecked scarlet cloak was trudging away from the castle, down the bridge, and toward them at an ominously slow pace.

"As your Headmaster, I must insist you return to your dormitories immediately." Wenster's voice echoed unnaturally across the viaduct. He had charmed it to be louder, in an obvious attempt to intimidate them.

"Headmaster?" Phillip Bletchley snapped.

"I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that Professor Gladstone is dead," Wenster replied. He didn't sound like he thought it was 'unfortunate' in the slightest. He tilted his head. Apparently he had been expecting more of a reaction. Unfortunately for him, James had gotten there first - so his 'news' was no longer news as far as anyone on the bridge was concerned.

"She named Professor Malcolm as Deputy, not you," James answered defiantly. "The whole school saw it."

"Professor Malcolm and Professor Ambrose are also indisposed," Wenster said. "And as for Professor Longbottom, I do not know when he will return. He left several hours ago to deal with a personal emergency."

"Fire at the Leaky Cauldron, right?" Another boy stepped forward to join them. James did a double take, both at the information and at the speaker. Tommy Jordan was a head taller than James. "That's an odd coincidence, that..."

"That explains why Longbottom wasn't here," Murphy muttered to James.

"He's never here when Wenster gets up to something dodgy," James commented in reply, feeling a twinge of annoyance.

"I think we've passed 'dodgy', mate," Murphy pointed out grimly.

James grit his teeth. Neville would have nailed Wenster to the wall if he had still been here. And Wenster knew that, James was prepared to bet.

"James Potter. You have caused immeasurable harm to Hogwarts this evening," Wenster announced. "Several Hogwarts professors and students have had their lives put at risk because of your foolish actions. You have proven yourself to be a danger to the safety of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and in doing so, have endangered all of Wizarding Britain - and it is my duty to see you removed to answer for your crimes against our society."

"I'm not the one that's spilled innocent blood trying to fight a war that ended twenty years ago," James answered. "Don't talk to me about 'crimes against our society.'"

"You should be grateful I never saw you as anything more than a callow boy with ideas above your station," Wenster sneered. "But perhaps that was a mistake."

At this, Lucan Wenster raised his wand.

"Heads up!" Murphy warned, as he, Bletchley, and Tommy Jordan raised their own wands in response.

"Stay behind me," Hawes suddenly instructed. "I'm fair with a Shield Charm, maybe I can keep us alive…"

"To hell with that, I'm not waiting for him to curse us," Freddy protested, pulling his own wand and stepping to the front.

"Move aside," Wenster said, "or I will destroy this bridge with the lot of you on it. Five."

"If he was gonna do it," Murphy muttered, "he would have just done it."

"Four."

James's heart thumped wildly in his chest. He could see in Wenster's eyes that he was not bluffing.

"Call them off, Potter," the old teacher warned. "Three."

Phillip Bletchley ran out of patience. "Expelliarmus!"

"Two!" Wenster blocked the spell with a Shield Charm easily, not even needing to use the incantation. He paused.

Something had come sailing over Wenster's shoulder.

It bounced on the viaduct stone with a clink, a few paces away from Wenster's feet. From here, James could see something round and golden, attached to a chain. Wenster saw it, too, and something changed on his face. His wand lowered to the bridge's stone floor.

"Accio…" he muttered, something hungry in his voice.

But a girl's shout pierced the winter air.

"Permuto promptus!"

An object flew into Wenster's hand, summoned by his own spell. He gave it a strange look, almost as if it had not been what he was expecting. James could barely see what was going on from this distance, but the unmistakable round, golden thing he had seen hit the ground… was not what was in Wenster's hands at the moment.

He turned his head for a moment. Bletchley exchanged a glance with James, grit his teeth by way of a signal, and both of them (joined by Murphy and Tommy, who had reacted late) raised their wands -

"NOT ANOTHER STEP!" Wenster boomed, as his wand was not only still pointed in their direction but now glowing at the tip with a silvery light that looked very unfriendly - not least because James had seen a similar glow from a Reductor Curse he'd used once. James and the others paused while Wenster dealt with what was on the other side of him. "Rose... Weasley."

He backed away from someone in the portcullis but toward the boys.

Meanwhile, the girl that had approached from behind him, with a mask on her face and a locket around her neck, began to dispense with the former, removing the cracked mask and tossing it away. Her face was revealed, pale and trembling with seething hatred.

"I guess we're all exposed now, aren't we?" she said, almost glibly.

"A Switching Spell. You've been doing your homework, I see. Very good. But I believe you have something of mine," Wenster answered. "I want it back."

Rose nodded concedingly. "I just had a question. Transfiguration's your bit, so I figured you'd know. Just how alive is a portrait?"

Wenster was caught off guard by this query, and did not answer.

"I've always wondered," Rose went on. "If their real selves are dead already, do the people in portraits feel fear? Pain?"

Wenster still did not answer.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Rose incanted. Something she had been holding in her free hand left that hand to hover independently of its holder. Her wand stayed trained on the object whilst Wenster froze, apparently not sure of its nature. "Engorgio!"

The rectangular object swelled and grew in size until it was quite larger than Rose herself. At this size, James could see its contents clearly - and so could Murphy.

"God, she was serious," Murphy whispered, a tinge of horror in his voice. "I thought that was a bluff."

"Lucan…" a trembling voice came from the portrait of a beautiful young woman with locks of gold.

"You don't have many pictures left of Claudia, do you?" Rose asked, her wand still pointed at the white gown of the girl in the portrait. "So this is valuable to you."

"...I don't care what you think of my methods," Wenster growled after a moment. "Your brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunate collateral damage."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Rose replied icily. "I've got an offer for you, Professor."

"Foolish girl. If you think I'm going to negotiate with -" Wenster snarled, but Rose cut him off.

"You will," she interrupted him quietly, and the tip of her wand began to glow.

"Lucan...?!" Claudia's portrait-self stammered desperately. James stayed silent, but this was beginning to make him legitimately uncomfortable.

Wenster's face trembled for a moment. Then he looked away from both Rose and the portrait.

"Do what you must," he said.

Rose's nose wrinkled. She opened her mouth.

"Wait!"

He interrupted her. Slowly, he held out a stoppered vial on a rope necklace. "I'm assuming your bargain involves this? Admit to the Headmistress that the contents in this vial are the truth? Resign my position? Maybe even surrender myself to the authorities? Your mother, correct?"

Rose paused, perhaps realizing she hadn't thought this through very well.

"You Weasleys are too earnest for your own good. It makes you predictable." Wenster said, clasping the vial itself in his fist. There was a crunch, and when he opened his hand again, all that was left was sparkling dust that hovered in the air for but a second before a breeze took it away. "Heroes are tiresome. People like Potter, Longbottom, Flynn Lester, you and the rest of the Weasley brood... Fit for villains but useless against monsters."

But Rose, unsettlingly, smiled.

"Sounds like the lesson you taught me back in November," she said. "You just crushed a vial of nothing. A magicked copy."

Wenster did a double take, glanced back at James for a moment, then at Rose…

"You'll probably be in Azkaban by the end of the day - but before that..." she said. Then, her smile quavered. "I'm going to make you hurt for what you did."

Then she glanced at the portrait of Claudia Scrimgeour, which still stood next to her and, bizarrely, began talking to it.

"Lucan?" Portrait-Claudia whimpered. "Lucan… Titus, please…"

"The ears start going a bit at his age," Rose muttered. "Make sure he can hear you…"

Then she jabbed her wand into the hem of Claudia's white dress.

"INCENDIO!"

The scream was bloodcurdling, unlike anything James had ever heard. He and the others watched in horror as flames started at Claudia's dress and encircled her legs. After a while, James couldn't look. It felt and sounded like he was watching someone being burned at the stake. Claudia's screams eventually choked themselves off, as if the pain (maybe portraits did feel pain) was beyond vocalization.

But Lucan Wenster watched it all, apparently either too shocked or too scared of an attack from James and the others to raise a wand to stop it. "...Claudia…"

Eventually the picture frame itself crumpled, empty and in flames.

Rose's stare was, alarmingly, ice-cold serenity, without a shred of remorse. And when she found her voice again, she nodded and repeated a strange phrase:

"...That's the look," she said, her lips turning upward for a moment. "That's the look."

"She's gone mental," Murphy said, shuddering.

James shook his head. He was here to stop Lucan Wenster, not torment him, right?

...Right?

"This… was not… personal," Wenster murmured through clenched teeth, his voice shaking all over the place as he struggled to produce words. "...And you… will regret making it so."

Wenster let out a snarl like a wounded animal very suddenly, and the tip of his wand, still pointed toward James's group, started to glow gold and crackle dangerously.

"Uh-oh," Murphy grunted, raising his wand. James did as well, although he had the odd feeling that a Shield Charm was only going to do so much against what Wenster was planning to do to -

"Rose, MOVE!" James blurted out as Wenster began to sweep his wand forward.

Bletchley did not wait. "No! Immobulus!"

Wenster's body was overtaken by a blue light and his movements became jerky and stilted. It was immediately apparent that Bletchley had got just enough of the spell to stop Wenster's immediate plans, but that Wenster was overpowering it.

"RUN, ROSE!" Bletchley yelled desperately, visibly sliding forward on his heels as if the very power of Wenster's magic was pulling him on a string and he was trying to resist. "RUN!"

"So be it," Wenster said loudly.

This time James saw it in its full speed and suddenness, almost as if he had known what would happen before it did. Wenster swept his wand backward. "GET DOWN!" James shouted, crashing into Murphy and Tommy Jordan as they all dove to the right and out of the way of the golden-tinted curse.

Phillip Bletchley had nowhere to go. The spell hit the ground near his feet and detonated in a shower of stone fragments and golden light. Bletchley's wand clattered to the bridge. He went skyward. Up… up… up…

And over the edge.

"PHILLIP!" James heard a familiar scream in his ears that made his blood run cold. "PHILLIIIIIIPPPP!"

"BASTARD!" Shelby Fletcher-Hawes bellowed as he ran out in front of everyone, rearing his wand back.

"Idiot boy," Wenster growled. "Stupefy!" There was a flash of red, and Hawes crumpled to the ground. Wenster was facing them. "Stupefy!"

"Rox, WATCH IT!" James heard Freddy's voice shout behind him - then a loud grunt.

"Isaac!" Tommy's voice followed immediately after. Meanwhile Wenster opened his mouth, no doubt to incant something nasty...

"ARGH!"

Something exploded behind him, knocking him forward and almost to the ground. He turned for a moment. He whirled around furiously, sending a red jet of light that caused an explosion that barely muffled a clipped scream -

"NOW!" Murphy shouted, leaping over Hawes's prone body.

"Ver-" James's incantation got lost underneath those of the other boys - but judging by the effect, at least one of them had used an Impediment Jinx. The air around Wenster rippled as the effects of all the curses broke. Wenster raised his wand to attack but was met with two blue sparks of light in the chest. He buckled for a moment, but did not stumble -

"Everte-"

James dove out of the way, not even waiting for Wenster's incantation to finish.

Tommy Jordan went flying between James and Murphy. James turned his head and watched as the prefect hit the ground hard and rolled, accompanied by a rather alarming noise as his leg got caught under him awkwardly.

This left James and Murphy as the only two able to stand again.

"Damn it," Murphy sighed. "It's him or us, isn't it?"

"...Maybe," James acknowledged grimly.

Murphy's face hardened.

"It's him, then."

Wenster raised his wand and free hand, inviting them to attack.

"Vermilious Tria!"

"Everte Statum!"

Wenster deflected both spells. "Bombarda!" James's arm jerked at the last moment, resulting in a curse that barely missed Wenster and exploded against the stone below. Murphy slashed at Wenster twice more, his wand glowing with crackling white light. Wenster gave two steps as he knocked the hexes away, and then -

"Ascendio!"

The air around Murphy bowed with magic, and he went skyward with a loud yell.

James aimed at the professor, thinking to fire a curse, but thought better of it, pointing his wand at the ground where it looked like Murphy would land. "Spongify!"

The stone itself gave way in odd, physics-defying fashion as Murphy landed on his back, before snapping back to its usual shape as Murphy jumped to his feet, unscathed.

"Thanks-watchit!" he shouted immediately, leveling his wand. Bright lights danced in front of James's face, missing his head by inches as he ducked away and swore. Murphy had fired something to deflect a hex that had been trained on James's skull. He finally raised his wand to defend himself, only to find that he was no longer the one being targeted…

"Pugnus!" Wenster shouted, advancing on Murphy. There was a nasty sound of impact, and Murphy spun and stumbled on the spot as if punch drunk. He was teetering dangerously close to the edge -

"MURPH! Carpe retractum!" James shouted in panic, pointing his wand at his best friend. A rope shot forth from it almost as quick as thought, yanking Murphy away just a moment before an unfriendly-looking shower of blue sparks tore through the spot where his face had been a half-second prior. Wenster turned toward them. Murphy was still staggered, unable to bring off a spell. Wenster's eyes flashed.

"Stupefy!"

James had no time; almost as if by instinct, he raised an arm to cover his head, waiting for everything to go black again.

Instead, red sparks and spots of light danced around his face as the spell ricocheted off his forearm. There was a bit of recoil, but other than that, he felt nothing.

Wenster lowered his wand, and paused.

James looked down at his arm for a second and saw, through the burned-out sleeve of his robe, a covering of layered, greenish, shiny, scaly material fitted around leather.

"Dragon scale…?" Wenster muttered, a bit surprised. "Where did you get-"

A second later, a burst like a sudden gust of wind slammed into the old wizard from the left, causing him to stagger sideways. Murphy was getting to his feet, conscious but sporting a nasty bruise on one of his cheeks. James walked to his side.

"You two are going to force me to hurt you," Wenster said, trying his hardest to sound convincingly apologetic.

"Force you?" James replied. "As if you haven't hurt enough people already."

"You believe I take pleasure in any of this?" Wenster replied. "I'm not a sadist. I want what's best for our school - our world. Children like you could never-"

James fired a curse at Wenster.

"Protego Maxima!" he incanted, and a dome of light encircled him just in time to detect a bevy of different spells and curses from two different wands. Some hit the dome and exploded, indicating more malicious intent. James and Murphy kept firing.

"REDUCTO!" Murphy snarled beside him. A silver jet of light hit the protective dome and bounced off it skyward. In its wake it left a small yet visible crack.

Wenster's eyes darted up to it, showing their first sign of concern in several minutes. He glanced at Murphy, who smirked, and aimed his wand carefully at the exact same spot. James was no Legilimens but he knew what each of them was thinking. The crack in Wenster's Shield Charm was a couple of inches across. Wenster was thinking that Murphy couldn't possibly hit that exact same spot at that range.

Murphy was thinking that, at ten yards at most, a target half that size might barely challenge him.

"Reduc-"

"Conflagrus!"

The blue-white dome of light around Wenster turned red, then…

BOOM.

The arctic air grew hellishly hot in an instant, and James found himself flying backward. For a panicked moment, he thought he had lost the bridge - until he slammed into the stone back-first and started to roll. He heard himself let out a scream as the pain of his injured ribs, assuaged by rage and adrenaline, returned tenfold.

He had gone arse-over-teakettle at least twice that he could count, and was now on his belly and - to his great panic - separated from his wand. He looked up, and bodies - stirring ones, thankfully - were everywhere. To his left, Murphy had gotten blasted dangerously close to the bridge's edge, and might have gone over if not for the elevated crenellations. Right behind him, Tommy Jordan was seated, both hands favoring a foot that was flopping around grotesquely from its leg.

On his right, Freddy and Roxanne were supporting each other to their feet.

"James!" Brynne had reached him and put her arms around his shoulders. He finally got a look at her eyes. They were blue, dry, but afraid. A pinprick of light was visible down the bridge.

"Thus ends the mummer's farce," announced Wenster.

James dropped his head. Despite his best efforts, he had failed. But despite that…

He pulled himself up halfway to his feet. Brynne helped him with the rest. Murphy was standing, too. He let his clenched fist release. Two fragments of wood clattered to the ground in front of him.

He'd broken his wand.

James felt his entire being trembling, but refused to look away.

To fight Dark wizards, he'd always believed, one must be unafraid of death - embrace its possibility, even its probability. That's how his father, and people like him, got through. And when the time came, they died on their feet.

He felt Brynne's fingers, somehow warm despite the freezing weather, clasp around his own.

Only… he wasn't ready to go yet.

"Confringo Maxima."

The pinprick of light grew…

A strong blast of west wind (well, it was coming from James's left, at least), upset the scene suddenly.

"Merlin's balls!" he heard someone shout.

"Careful!" Roxanne's voice yelled as well. Thinking quickly, James pulled Brynne to the ground, trying his best to cover her. Maybe she would survive, at least…

Squinting against what seemed to be a sudden blizzard, he could barely make out a robed figure with dark hair, giving off golden light, descending from somewhere above them.

The wind died down. The figure was holding a body and, with some effort, placed the body on the ground.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised at how low you've fallen." James recognized the voice, but could hardly dare to believe it. "But that would be a lie - and unlike you, I still have my conscience."

Wenster had come into view. He seemed mostly unmoved by this new arrival. "I take that to mean she will survive?"

"Yes."

Professor Clinton Malcolm's fists (one holding his wand) clenched at his sides, and a strong breeze began to blow as he strode to the center of the bridge, putting himself between Wenster and the student. It was then that James realized that the odd wind had not simply come with Malcolm - it was coming from him.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same for you... Lucan."