Disclaimer: Plot line original, characters borrowed.
I was nestled in a common room window seat when I saw them out in the dark. Two figures, one running and the other chasing at full speed, headed right for that dreadful, dreadful willow tree.
I knelt on the threadbare cushions of the window seat and doused the lights around me to get a better look. Squinting into the night, I sighed in frustration before remembering my wand, and what I can do with it. Casting the appropriate charm was as simple and natural as a focused thought, and instantly my view was up close. As soon as I reoriented myself, my stomach dropped past my feet and landed in the dungeons.
Potter and Severus—I should have known. The altercation looked as if it might get physical, and I didn't give it a second thought—I grabbed my scarf and cloak and ran for the front doors.
My lungs and legs burned, and I didn't feel as if I was getting any closer. Frustrated, I ran faster, wishing I could just apparate. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and it wasn't Severus I was worried about. That look in his eyes lately, the same determination, but gelled over with a white-hot loathing for everything around him frightened me. Potter was a grown bloke, always flanked by Black and Remus besides, and yet still the need to step in and protect—Potter from Severus was so, so, strong and that look about Severus told me why. I ran faster, fueled by an undiluted certainty that I would arrive too late.
When I was close enough to hear shouting I ducked behind a tree, with my hands on my knees waiting for the burning in my lungs to stop and that was when I heard it. Howls tore through the quiet night and sent spikes of pure fear shooting down my back. I knew what was howling, and my eyes were the only part of my body I could will to move as I scanned the darkened grounds for the werewolf.
I didn't look for long before I heard the scream. It pierced through my rib cage; and then I was running again. Severus was on the ground, his already pale face translucent and my first thought was sweet Circe, he's dead. A monstrous looking black dog herded the werewolf back toward the forest, snarling and baring its teeth but not going for a bite, as if it knew what could happen with a taste.
I ran toward Severus, not knowing what I'd do with him, hoping that the werewolf and the dog would be distracted long enough for me to do something. His chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate—but he was alive. I tried to stop the bleeding, and it wasn't working. The blood just kept coming; my hands were coated in it and I was much too panicked to notice the werewolf stop and sniff the caught a new scent, my scent instantly and bounded across in my direction leaving me no time to think or to react. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the onslaught. It never came.
My eyes were closed, but I felt the silent ambush of something blindsiding the wolf and the awesome force with which it hit the ground. When I opened them again, the dog had the werewolf fully distracted, but I couldn't pause to feel the relief of my sudden escape. There, less than ten yards in front of where I was crouched over Severus was an enormous stag. Like the dog, it was bigger than any natural creature should be. It was majestic and terrifying; with its massive antlers casting jagged shadows over Severus and me. It edged closer and I was much too petrified to even shake. It stopped in front of me and lowered its head inch by inch until its eyes were level with mine. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. The human look it gave me was unnatural on its face, and I could have absolutely sworn I'd seen those eyes before. He scooped Severus' limp body in his huge antlers and bounded at a full run toward the lights of the castle.
I looked after him and toward the lights and the noises coming from the castle and sagged in relief. People were running toward the stag and Sev, and I couldn't pause to think about the questions and the reactions of the teachers. The stag picked up the pace toward the running group, dropping Severus at their feet and taking off full speed toward the forest. I felt the chill in the air again for the first time since seeing the wolf, and suddenly it was too much—I lost consciousness.
I woke up in the hospital wing alone, disoriented and confused as to why I was not in my room. It was dark and I was cold even under the rough, but thick blankets. The hospital seemed empty and I was uncharacteristically unsure of myself. Unsure if my memories were real, and sod it all I didn't like this. Try as I might to chalk it up to a fever, or an over active imagination, or just a really sodding awful nightmare, in the back of my mind I knew it was real—all of it. James Potter chasing Severus and then suddenly disappearing and then the werewolf and the dog and—there was a crash across the wing.
"Would you stop making all that ruddy noise Wormtail? Things are mucked up enough—"
"And that's your bloody fault so stop picking on Pete." The voice was Potters; there was no mistaking it. And he sounded livid.
"You're staying up here with Moony, Padfoot. I'm going to bed." Each word was bitten out as if it were costing him dearly to control his speech.
"Prongs mate, we need to discuss—"
"Not tonight we don't. I'm tired."
"But Evans was down there tonight—she saw, we need to talk about this James."
"And I think I've already cleaned up after you enough tonight. Goodnight Sirius."
I closed my eyes and tried to breath evenly as they passed by. There was a pause in his steps and I could feel his eyes rake over me, making the hair on my arms stand straight up. It felt like forever and I wished he would just bloody well go because pretending to sleep peacefully is not as easy as one would think. I opened my eyes slowly, praying he was gone and that I wouldn't give myself away.
Alone again, I slipped on my socks and held my shoes and things in the other hand, making my way slowly across the room to the partition where the noise was coming from. And there they were—Sirius black with his head in his hands and Remus Lupin, all cut up and bruised on the bed. At that moment, it almost faded to black and all I wanted was to be unconscious in my own damn bed. So I did something I'd become accustomed to doing—I ran.
I sprinted all the way back to the tower, in stocking-clad feet and a light head, still in shock. Severus was alive, he had to be and though I couldn't, no, wouldn't forgive him for what he's said a year ago, for spitting on going on six years of an important friendship, I could not ever wish him dead because I was much too selfish.
The fat lady was snoring when I barked out the password, and was right put out with being woken up so late. Instead of waiting for her lecture, I pushed passed her reprimands and into the common room, careful not to make any noise. The fire was dead, sucking the life out of the common room and leaving something weary and dank in its stead. It was in this half-light that James Potter was sitting, head in his hands much like his best mate Sirius Black. It was in this half-light that I left him to his thoughts and ran up the stairs to try and forget mine.
Naturally, the head master sent for me. I knew it was coming and thought the worst. I had only been trying to help…the excuse sounded feeble and pathetic and just like the biggest lie I had ever told. I knew there was nothing I could have done form the moment I head those howls. I kept going because…well I wasn't sure why. But as a prefect, I knew the rules. I should have informed McGonagall the second I noticed the chase. Should have sounded the alarm. But I didn't, and whatever was coming I deserved it. I knew that Remus was related to all of this, he must have been out there with them, and that he was badly hurt. And that only served to make me feel worse. He was a friend, and considering the times those were far and few in between.
My guilty thoughts were swarming through my head so fast that I didn't notice my arrival until I was already spinning up the staircase and then there was Professor Dumbledore, who preferred to not be called headmaster. He was not smiling and I braced myself. For a reputation is everything and Albus Dumbledore had had over 100 years to build his.
In the end, I kept my prefect badge and was told clearly that my not being obliviated was contingent upon my not asking questions and never talking about what I had seen. Because it could shatter what was left of Severus. Because it would cause unnecessary panic among the student body. Because Remus Lupin was a goddamn werewolf.
I was like a ghost for the remainder of the year, passing in and out of awareness. When I tried to fit the pieces together, it didn't make a damn bit of sense, and yet it did. Visiting his sick mother, out with Wizard's flu, and blah, blah, blah. Always near the full moon. And always looking like hell for days after. It made so much sense I thought my head would explode from it all.
Severus had been moved to Saint Mungo's after the attack, and did not return for a month. I had not seen much of Potter or Black for that matter, and by now I could guess where Remus was. I felt the need to tell him that I knew, to reassure him that his secret was safe with me, but I didn't dare. What I really wanted to do was find James bloody Potter and sit him down to get a good, long look at his eyes.
This of course proved to be damn near impossible. For all the chasing he'd done, and for all the complaining rejections I had spewed out, and despite the uneasy truce we'd reached over the passed year, he was now doing a damn good job of avoiding me. It was maddening, hunting him down only to be thwarted each-and-every time. His friend Black was no help at all, and even if he and Potter had been speaking, I doubt it would have mattered. Sirius Black was a brooding mess, but I couldn't help but agree with every simpering twit in years four through seven—he was pretty to look at. Sixth year was ending and I was (for the first time) not looking forward to returning home for the summer. I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew it involved having James sodding Potter finally look me in the eye.
The train ride home found me holed up in a compartment alone, chin resting on my knees staring out the window and hearing Severus' scream tearing through my head on a loop over and over again. It had been keeping me up at night, and I felt like rubbish and knew I looked like shite.
I was pinching my cheeks and scrunching my face in the window when the door slid open, loud enough to make me realize what I was doing and jump up with a squeak. It was Remus, looking decidedly worse for the wear but not nearly as wretched as he'd seemed in that hospital bed.
My cheeks flushed and not from the pinching and scrunching. Despite the bruises and cuts, underneath, he was really quite handsome. The four of them were when you really thought about it, even their more rotund friend who often sat with Remus at Quidditch matches. His blue eyes were clear and though I'd never really had a thing for blue eyes, I could see now why most girls did.
"You're in here alone, are you?" He came in and slid the door shut, taking the seat across from mine.
It wasn't such a strange question to ask. Alice and Marlene hadn't even batted an eyelash when I broke apart from them and come to sit alone. I needed to think, or scream or both, and I didn't want anyone else to see me like that. It was trauma and I was sick of it, but there it was—following me all the way home. It made me think that maybe my sister was right after all; maybe all of this was not worth it compared to the normality, the security that living as a muggle offered.
I took a deep breath, and forced out a low, but steady, "yes".
"I think I know why." He looked out the window, meeting my eyes through our reflection in the glass and I knew what I was about to hear and wondered if this would count against me in the whole 'don't breath a word of it' scheme of things. Surely it didn't count if the werewolf I wasn't supposed to know about was the one to tell me that he was, in fact, a werewolf?
I swallowed. "You do?"
"It never gets any easier, almost killing someone. You would think that nature would take over and that it wouldn't affect me the next morning, or that I would grow to just bloody well accept it after eleven years, but I haven't and it doesn't and I can't tell you how fucking sorry I am about almost killing you. Especially you, Lily Evans. I don't know what Dumbledore told you, but," he pauses and takes a deep shuddering breath, which I cut off.
"I know."
He was looking at me, maybe wanting me to meet his gaze and I was still staring out the window. The hopelessness that poured out of him, like he was holding out his hands to the sky at a loss, reminded me so much of a younger Severus and I didn't want to think about it anymore. I couldn't forget it but I could push it back, damn it.
Before he could say anything more, I threw my arms around him and he sagged against me. I'd never hugged anyone that hard before, and it was a good feeling.
"You shouldn't have to apologize for who you are," I whispered fiercely, despite my residual fears, "so don't.
I'm sure what happened that night wasn't intentional, and that Severus being out there with Potter was a mistake, a terrible mistake, yeah? We should just all be glad that no one was—" I couldn't bring myself to say it, so he finished my sentence.
"Killed? Yeah. Focus on the sunny side, shall we? That's what James' would say." He still hadn't let me go completely, and I couldn't say I minded. It was nice, being held without any expectations.
"I won't tell," I whispered and he heaved a great sigh.
Just then the compartment door slammed open and we jumped apart as if something had stung us both. It was James Potter standing on the threshold, looking like dementors were pulling his soul out through his nose, or worse even; he was letting them do it.
"Padfoot's looking for you. Been up and down this whole ruddy train the two of us have. And I find you in the last place I ever though you'd be." Though I did not understand it, the inflection was not lost on me.
I felt my ears color as they often did when I was embarrassed, though what I had to feel ashamed of I didn't quite know. And frankly I thought, Potter should learn to bloody well knock.
Remus tugged on his sleeves and muttered, "All right there, Prongs?"
He ignored the question. "We've things to discuss, so if you'll excuse us Evans." He didn't wait for Remus to get up; he stiffly turned around and walked away. I was left sitting there staring at the wall while Remus made a hasty apology and ran after his mate. For once, the arrogant git Potter who I never paid much attention to (aside from defending innocent first years and thus being forced to deduct massive amounts of points from my own bloody house, thank you very bleeding much) had managed to shut me down completely.
The summer passed uneventfully and I found myself counting the days until September 1st with an even greater fervor than before. Home life was just so, well, boring. I had yet to come of age and that did not help the stagnation, or my… dissatisfaction with the way things just wouldn't move forward. Of course, even if I were free to practice magic outside of school it wouldn't have mattered. Petunia still threw an ungodly fit every time magic was even mentioned, never mind when she saw me with my wand out.
The only truly exciting moment came August 20th, when a standard Hogwarts post owl sailed through our kitchen window during breakfast and landed on Tunney's shoulder, snatching the bacon right off her fork. The shriek she let out was monumental, and had my mother scurrying about the house trying to calm her down while my father and I attempted to contain our (rather inappropriate) laughter.
Still chuckling, my father took the post from the owl (something he liked to do on the rare occasion he was there to do it), and handed it to me with an enormous grin on his face. The letter felt bulkier than usual, and my pulse raced as I opened it and felt the head girl's badge inside.
Petunia's aversion to magic did work to my advantage such as going to Diagon Alley sans parental supervision. It was bleeding wonderful, playing at adulthood. I sat outside Florean Forstescue's enjoying a scoop and a coffee (never been one for tea, bloody un-British of me as my dad would say) when Sirius Black plopped down in the seat in front of me without so much as a hello.
"You realize your ice cream is green Evans?" His grin was much too cheeky; I preferred him subdued and brooding.
"Can I help you?" I asked without looking up from my book.
"Not really. Saw you sitting here, alone, doing absolutely devilish things to that ice cream cone and thought I'd come over and say hello."
"All right. Say it and be on your way then." As I should have expected, he snatched the book right from between my fingers. He thumbed through it without even glancing at the pages.
"So Lily dear, I must say that was quite a fright you gave us all last term." He winked at me, and I flushed. Like I said, infuriating but pretty.
I grabbed the book back and took a sip of the coffee and bite from the cone. "Oh yeah? How so?"
"Well," he leaned forward to whisper, "I hear from the grape vine, the extremely short grape vine mind you, that you have now joined the ever-privileged ranks of those who know about Moony's furry little problem. Welcome." I look up at his dead panned change of tone. I didn't know what in the bleeding hell to say so naturally my mouth ran ahead of me with the worst possible reply.
"What I know is none of your business and further more, you are the absolute last bloody person I'd like to discuss it with Sirius Black," I hissed.
His eyebrows rose farther into his perfect (it wasn't fair really) hairline. "Oh, I know he told you himself. After Dumbledore spilled the beans too. Cheeky old bastard."
"Yes, he did. And before you open your overused gob to ask, I understand the implications perfectly." I snapped my book shut; riled up and annoyed.
As usual, Black didn't miss a beat. "All right then Evans. From what I've heard you and Moony were awfully, er, close when he told you."
Yes, he didn't miss a beat. But then neither did I.
"Why was Severus out there that night?"
"What's it to you?" he asked, his sunny disposition growing darker.
"Don't avoid the question. Someone had to have egged him on, I know him. And I know it wasn't Potter."
"What are you getting at?" He was gripping the chair, knuckles white, and that confirmed it.
"You told him, didn't you? You told him there was something to see. And you knew Remus would tear him to pieces. Bloody hell, what were you thinking?"
I was expecting an angry, biting response. Instead, he deflated and looked away.
"I wasn't. I wasn't at all, and that's the problem with me, yeah?" He let out a sardonic laugh.
The pause was uncomfortable, and I couldn't think of what to say.
"Speaking of Remus, what the bloody hell happened on the train Evans?"
The change of topic caught me extremely off guard, and I started a little.
'What's it to you?" was my absolutely brilliant rejoinder.
"To me? Nothing, nothing at all." He smirked that awful smirk of his, and I wanted to knock it right off his too-pretty face.
"But don't you find it a right might well, insensitive to snog one of the best mates of the bloke that's been in love with you since third bloody year? I mean honestly Evans, boundaries!"
If he was attempting to get a rise out of me, well, it was working brilliantly. "I was absolutely not snogging Remus! I was merely comforting a friend! And I do not owe James bleeding Potter or you for that matter one single ounce of an explanation, thank you very bleeding much, so you can piss off, Black!"
Sirius chuckled. "Language head girl, language. I was merely going by what I heard. Glad to have—"
"How'd you know I got head girl?" I interrupted. It seemed minute considering the conversation we were just having but I wanted to know nonetheless.
"Oh it's the talk of the town! 'Muggle-born witch makes head girl!' Personally, I think it's bloody fucking brilliant." He smiled and lit a cigarette with his wand.
He sat there, nonchalant with his feet up on the table as if he hadn't a care in the world, but it was no secret that Sirius was the black sheep of his family, literally. He was the first Black in the long and distinguished family not to be sorted into Slytherin. Shame and dishonor were words that got tossed about regularly at his house during the Christmas holidays, and he often chose to spend them at the castle instead.
"At least you're not inbred." He waggled his eyebrows, and I fought not to laugh.
"Well, I'm off to Slug and Jiggers," he said as he rose to leave. "See you on the train then?"
"What could you possibly need there?" The words were out of my mouth before I really thought about it, and he was standing behind Sirius before I could do anything to retract what I said. Bugger.
He was big. And by that I mean he had grown wider in the shoulders and chest so that he could finally be called proportional. His hair still stuck out in all directions, and his shoulders still slumped a little and I was glad to see that filling out hadn't changed much else about him. I was craving consistency, even if he still was arrogant as ever. Maybe I had grown to admire that? I wasn't sure.
"Obviously potions ingredients, Evans."
"You aren't in NEWT level potions, Black you're name wasn't on the—".
"This is somewhat…extracurricular love. Besides, our head boy here somehow managed to get into Sluggie's good graces and so his kit needs replenishing, yeah mate?"
My eyes went wide, I'm sure of it because the look on James' face turned from guarded to absolutely mutinous. "Head boy? You? But I thought Remus—".
His lips pressed into a thin line. "Thought what exactly Evans, that a troublemaker like me would never make it that high up? Expecting someone a little more—"
"I thought that the head boy was to be selected from the already existing pool of prefects, and thus I was expecting Remus. Sorry to offend Potter, and honestly whatever bloody else you're angry about, don't take it out on the rest of us who haven't done anything to deserve your ire, you arrogant arse."
He narrowed his lovely hazel eyes, and Sirius was looking between his best mate and me, clearly worried about something.
"Done nothing, have you? Done nothing—"
And Sirius stepped in, just in time. "All right mate, let's get a move on before you say something you'll regret later." Sirius grabbed a glaring and fuming James by the arm, smiled apologetically back at me and dragged him off in the direction of the apothecary. I was left with a half melted cone and a luke-warm coffee, wondering what the hell I had done to make Potter so bloody angry.
Muggle London was never a relief. It was noisy and smelly, and I absolutely hated it. But it wasn't bad all the time. I was at the drive in theatre's replay the classics night, alone, and about three hundred metres off the ground sitting on a petrol station sign watching Love Story and feeling a wee bit sorry for myself. Having a reckless law –breaking (former) boyfriend had allowed me the luxury of learning to apparate before the ministry sanctioned classes, and I reveled in the thrill of it. The film was starting and I settled into my blanket and smiled half-heartedly at the one thing that isolated me from everyone below. Petunia loved coming here with her rather, portly boyfriend and for a second I was jealous. Dates in Hogsmead were different, but the drive in was magical in its own way.
I was so engrossed in the film that I never heard the soft pop of apparition, and it was no wonder I jumped ten bleeding metres in the air when he sat down wordlessly next to me.
"Gotta say Evans, never thought I'd see you up here, watching this of all things."
How casually he was addressing me, when less than six hours ago he looked ready to breath fire in my direction. It confused me, which annoyed me, and we were 300 hundred bloody metres in the air and I had no where to go but home, which was the last place I wanted to be two nights before leaving for school.
"I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, James. But I was here first." I didn't take my eyes from the screen as I spoke, not because I was still interested in what was going on, but because I couldn't look at him.
"Ah, still annoyed then. I see." And at this, my head snapped in his direction so fast I wound up sputtering hair before I could speak.
"Yes. Yes, I bloody well am. You spend three years tormenting me, one year fooling me into thinking you're finally bleeding normal, only to treat me like dirt clinging to your robes. Now you show up on my bleeding petrol sign, out of bleeding nowhere I might add, and act like everything is just bleeding rosy. I would just like to know what in the bleeding hell I've done to make you so angry," I snarled.
"You overuse the word bleeding. It loses its effect after about the fourth time. And I didn't follow you here. I like coming here to watch the films. Never thought anyone else would be mad enough to apparate 300 meters off the ground to watch muggles torture themselves, but there you have it and here we are."
I blinked, and he continued, "You didn't do anything to make me angry," he paused and collected himself, "at least not directly. I don't know, after all these years I guess I'm just sick to death of fancying a girl like you. Maybe I am a prat, an arrogant toe rag, or whatever else it was you called me. And maybe you were right at the time. Maybe Snape had it coming, maybe he didn't. But I just want you to know that all I saw that day was the way he was talking to you. When I hexed him right stupid, it was because no one was going to call you a mudblood in my presence and get away with it. For six bloody years you were all I could see Lily Evans, all I wanted to see. And I think now it's time for me to start looking somewhere else, yeah?"
I should have nodded, should have put him out of his misery, but I didn't. I held still and prayed he'd go on, because I didn't know what to say.
"Problem is Lily, I'm not sure I know how to. When I saw you curled around Remus I…well I removed myself from the situation before I did something to my mate that I'd only regret later." He swallowed, and I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, like I'd never bothered to in almost seven years, realizing just then that I might have made a mistake somewhere along the line.
"I was hugging Remus because he had just sat down and told me he is a werewolf. He was pale, and afraid and so was I, and I think I needed it more than he did. He was apologizing for almost having killed me, and I…well I shouldn't have been out there in the first place, yeah? But I saw you chasing Severus from the window, and I was…compelled to run out there like a blithering idiot. Who knows what might have happened. But that was it; it was just a hug between friends. And I don't know why I'm telling you all this." I ran my fingers through my hair, catching the knots and tangles and taking a breath, wondering why in the ruddy hell I was missing Love Story to explain this all to James Potter. And then it hit me.
"Where did you go?" I asked, with my fingers still in my hair and my arm half blocking my view of him.
"Pardon?" The innocent tone might have worked had he not begun to sweat slightly.
"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you were there, you were the reason I left the castle in the first place. When I got out there, it was just Severus bleeding and Remus transformed and some animals that came out of nowhere. But you were gone. When I woke up in the hospital I could have sworn—"
"I went to get the headmaster." I knew he was lying, I didn't know how I knew but I knew.
"And you just left him there did you? I don't believe you. You're a lot of things, but I know that murder escapes you."
His face hardened again, and for a second I thought he wasn't going to answer me.
"I thought he was running behind me. It happened very fast, and by the time I reached the passage he wasn't there. I figured it was best to run to Dumbledore."
"Passage?"
"That broken statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in the courtyard? If you turn the diadem to the left the statue moves aside and there's a tunnel that leads into the castle."
"How long have you known about Remus?" I asked.
He was picking at the hem of his jeans, and I thought it strange to see him dressed like a muggle. Dressed like me.
"Since third year. Sirius and I knew there was something going on with all those "sick mum" stories. So we followed him and Dumbledore one night just as the moon was waxing full. We've been the only three students to know up until you and Snape."
I felt like I'd trespassed on sacred ground. Like I didn't belong. And he probably felt the same way.
"You're a strong lot, you are." I turned back to the screen, just as Oliver was telling his father that love meant never having to say you were sorry. And I finally understood that.
"We must be," he answered, after a long, long pause.
"My sister hates me," I said, resting my chin on my knees. "And it's sad because whenever I think about it, it makes me wish that I'd never gotten that bleeding letter. That I'd never let Severus and magic and just being so different come between me and Tunney."
"I think Severus Snape is a death eater. And that makes him an idiot on two fronts," he said.
I tensed up because he'd just voiced my greatest fear. "How do you figure that?" I asked quietly, but I already knew the answer.
"I don't think I need to tell you that. And I don't think it really matters, yeah? What matters is that he's an odd bloke who chose a mad man over you. Like I said, an idiot, twice over."
"He was my first friend, besides my sister, and then he was my only friend. Truth is, I've always been a bit odd myself you know? Even growing up muggle, having been told that magic was only in books and on the telly I knew different, I felt it.
Remember first year when you told me my head looked like it was on fire?"
He chuckled, "I meant that in the best possible way, Evans."
I sniggered in response. "Well, it made me angry because secretly, I agreed with you. I hate being a red head. Always have. My mother and my sister are both blond as can be and I've always stuck out like sore thumb. I wanted to be away from all that, you know?"
He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. "Don't be daft, Evans. Even Snivellus knows it; you're bloody beautiful. And much too pale to look good as a blond."
I rolled my eyes and noticed the screen had gone black and the cars were all pulling away. Soon we'd be in the dark.
"Congratulations on making head boy, even if this proves once and for all that Dumbledore has gone round the twist. I'll see you on the train, James." Without waiting for an answer I apparated into my bedroom and got under the covers just as my mother was opening my door.