Tapestry

Chapter 13

There was very little conversation on the walk back to Hogwarts. Indeed, James was so distracted that Celesca had to remind him to put on the Invisibility Cloak before they entered Honeydukes as he was in such a world of his own that he would have tried to access the secret passage with no stealth at all. It wasn't until they were faced with the one-eyed witch once again that Celesca finally forced James to speak.

“Okay, you're going to tell me what went on with your aunt,” she said firmly. “You aren't going back around the castle looking like that. Did you find something out?”

“No,” said James mutely. “I didn't get much chance to say anything other than what creature bit Richard. My Dad came in.”

“Yikes, that must have been close,” said Celesca.

“I hid under my aunt's desk,” James continued. “Then she and Dad had a chat about him taking her for lunch. It sounded like a date, Cel. But I suppose you'll tell me that it could just be a friends thing.”

“I won't remind of something which you already know,” said Celesca. “Everything like this is magnified for you, now, and you aren't totally wrong to react that way. After what you've learned you think all things between them point to a relationship, or heaven forbid, some sort of sordid affair. Is that what you think?”

“No, I don't think my dad would cheat on Mum,” said James. “The same goes for my aunt and uncle. I'm pretty sure they love their families too much for that. What I don't like is that something is going on there, or something has gone on in the past that they've never left behind. One thing for sure is that I'm going to find out what it is.”

“How are you going to do that?” asked Celesca.

“One step at a time,” said James. He had the map in his hand and his lit wand tip was tracing a route towards the Herbology greenhouses. Unfortunately, Professor Longbottom, James's target, was nowhere to be found. James searched the rest of the castle but in the mesh of little dots clustered around the Great Hall or the Staff room or any of the courtyards it was impossible to find him.

“Come on,” said Celesca cajolingly. “Let's get somewhere with some light where we can see better.”

James checked the third floor corridor; it was strange watching several little dots passing just metres from where he and Celesca were standing in the secret passage. He waited until they were safely gone before opening the secret entrance and stepping out. His eyes stung after so much time spent in the dark of the underground passage, but after a few minutes of adjustment he was ready to check the map again.

“Where do you think would be the best place to start?” asked Celesca.

“Eh?”

“Where is Professor Longbottom likely to be?”

“You haven't got to come with me for this,” said James. “There's no need for you to get involved in my troubles.”

“That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me,” said Celesca. “I told you that you aren't doing this alone so don't even try and get rid of me. Your troubles are my troubles. Now where is best to start looking?”

James couldn't help but take Celesca and kiss her hard right there in the corridor. That she was there with him doing more than he could ever ask of anyone was just mind blowing. He really felt that he'd be lost without her. Her eagerness to help served to calm him.

“I don't think we can find him now,” said James. “Everywhere is packed and I don't really want to talk to him with anyone about. Except for you, of course.”

“How about waiting until after dinner?” Celesca suggested. “We could go down about eight; the Nightshade plants need trimming at this time of year and they only come out in the dark. He's bound to be in the Greenhouses by then.”

James was once again thankful for Celesca's wealth of largely useless knowledge. It gave them a timeframe of action and even though that time promised to pass by slowly it at least provided plenty of opportunity to think. They decided to spend the majority of this time in the little garden just outside the Transfiguration courtyard; it was a magically enchanted place filled with blossom and hemlock falling around a large circular dais, atop of which a beautifully carved fountain splashed water into a large pool beneath. They walked hand-in-hand around and around, stopping briefly on a stone bench to toss a few loose Knuts into the wishing well.

“What did you wish for?” asked Celesca, snuggling her head into James's shoulder.

“If I tell you it won't come true, and I really need it to,” said James, leaning back into Celesca's cuddle.

She seemed to know what he was thinking and didn't push the issue. He suspected that it was so clear that all he wanted was an innocent solution to the problem of his dad and his aunt that there was no need to ask. This one wish, however, seemed the least likely outcome of all James's efforts.

After returning to Gryffindor Tower some time later to freshen up, James and Celesca paid a visit to Richard en route to dinner. To their surprise, they found Cassie and Nicola just leaving the Hospital Wing as they arrived. Cassie, for her part, looked as pale and worried as she had done on the day when Richard had been bitten.

“What are you doing up here?” asked James, astonished. “I didn't think you'd be so concerned about him.”

“I saw it happen,” said Cassie. “I can't get it out of my mind. I just hope he gets better.”

“He'll be fine,” said James. “If it was going to kill him it would have happened already.”

Cassie looked mortified.

“James, that's a horrid thing to say,” said Celesca, chiding him. “Pay no attention to him, Cass. His sense of humour is a bit tasteless at times.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” said James.

“Until Richard is well again nothing will do that,” said Celesca. “It's not funny to joke about things like that it case it really happens.”

“Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?” said James sardonically.

“I'm just saying,” said Celesca. “Don't tempt fate.”

James scoffed. “The way fate has treated me lately I'm happy to take my chances with it.”

He gave Celesca his best romantic look and she returned it with a golden smile. Nicola made a sort of gagging noise nearby and ushered Cassie out of the place before there was more than one student struck down by a terrible sickness. James ignored her and moved over to Richard, now at the far end of the ward. Nurse Evesham and the Healer from St Mungo's had decided that whatever had struck Richard down was not contagious as neither they nor any of the teachers who'd been around him had developed a similar condition. As such, visitors were now allowed at his bedside.

“He looks like he's made of stone, doesn't he?” said Celesca sadly.

“I should have wished for a cure back at the fountain,” said James idly. “What in the hell could it be? He's been here for over a week and nothing has happened. If they don't find out what's wrong soon he might end up with those nutters in St Mungo's.”

“That won't happen,” said Celesca, trying to be positive. “Something will turn up. It has to.”

“I wonder if he can hear us,” said James. “I won't insult him for causing us so much stress, just in case.”

James had half hoped this last comment would provoke a response but Richard still lay as stiff as a board. They sat with him for ten minutes but it might as well have been a mannequin under the bed covers for all the good it did. Resigned to uselessness, James and Celesca headed down for dinner hoping that Professor Longbottom would be easy to find later and that he would prove more responsive than their prostrate friend.

Dinner cheered both James and Celesca up slightly as hot chocolate fudge cake was served amongst the desserts and they found out that it was both of their favourites. It was yet another good match in their relationship and James secretly felt that if they stumbled on any more he would have to check that they weren't really twins separated at birth. The disgust such a possibility created in his mind almost put him off eating, but when the gooey caramel of the cake mixed with the coolness of the luxury ice cream all other thoughts were driven from his mind.

After deciding to wait half an hour after dinner, James pulled out the old map, hid it inside a book Celesca had handy (which she always seemed to) and looked towards the greenhouses. To his relief there, inside Greenhouse Four, the little dot labelled `Neville Longbottom was moving about. James looked at Celesca and made dodgy eye signals for her to read what he'd been looking at; it took her a while to catch on, but once she did she nodded towards the door and they both moved to it. Several Sixth Year girls sat near the portrait hole whistled and offered smutty little comments as James and Celesca passed; James thought she bore it very well, simply walking past with her head high and doing a passable impression of ignoring them.

“Do you think that will ever stop?” Celesca asked as the Fat Lady's portrait swung shut behind James.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “But I did warn you about that sort of thing. People here are very childish.”

“Yeah, and most of them take after you,” said Celesca with a grin.

“What can I say, I'm a trendsetter,” said James.

They walked quickly down the stairs and slipped outside. The path to the Herbology greenhouses was not meant to be taken at night and the only light came from flaming torches hung in roughly hewn metal brackets along the verge. They cast insubstantial pools of light along the ground which provided almost no illumination at all and more than once James strayed from the path. It was lucky that Celesca seemed to have her radar working and was there to pull him straight whenever he started to wander.

The greenhouses themselves were much better lit; all of them were as bright as though they were being worked in and the long shadows of the torches gave way to a row of greenhouses which looked like a terrace of translucent glass houses. James led the way along the row to Number Four and pushed open the door. Professor Longbottom looked up from a tray about half the length of the building away, startled at being disturbed and utterly bemused at seeing James standing in the doorway.

“James! What in the world are you doing here at this hour?” he exclaimed. “I wouldn't have thought late-night revision was your thing.”

“It isn't, sir,” said James, who couldn't help but grin at the comment.

“Then what is it? What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes.” James asked.

“Of course,” said Professor Longbottom. “Homework problems?”

“No, sir, it's more personal,” said James.

The Herbology master frowned. “This sounds serious. Let's take a seat, shall we? I've just brewed some tasty Colombian coffee if you'd like to help me sample it. Come on in, Miss Shaw, I can see you back there, too.”

“Evening, Professor,” said Celesca shyly.

James followed Professor Longbottom to the back of the greenhouse. On a trestle table a steaming pot and a chipped scarlet mug stood next to a plate of biscuits.

“More, I think,” said Professor Longbottom staring at the table. He took out his wand and conjured two dainty teacups while at the same time Summoning two stools from the nearby work desks. The three of them sat down and took a cup.

“Now, what is it you want to talk about?” asked Professor Longbottom, pouring the coffee.

“It's quite personal,” said James, drinking in the rich aroma of the coffee. “And I don't know who else to speak to. But I can only ask you this if I can guarantee it won't leave the greenhouse.”

“Teacher/student confidentiality is paramount,” said the Professor. “You can trust me.”

“It's more than that,” said James. “It's family friend to member of family. I can't have anyone knowing - especially not my dad.”

For the first time, Professor Longbottom looked concerned. He glanced over at Celesca and James swore he saw his eyes flick towards her belly. He snorted with laughter as he realised what the Professor might have been thinking.

“No, no, sir,” said James, laughing. “It's nothing like that.”

“Oh, good,” said Professor Longbottom, the relief in his smile evident.

“Can I trust you not to say anything?” James pressed.

“Of course,” said the Professor. “I promised your parents I would keep an eye on their children whilst you were under my care. I doubt this was the kind of thing they had in mind but I promise I won't say a word of this to them. Now - how can I help?”

“I want to ask you about when my dad was at school,” James began. “You knew him then, right?”

“We met on the first day,” said Professor Longbottom, remembering fondly. “My toad kept getting lost and your aunt, Hermione, helped me look for him. We went into the carriage on the Hogwarts Express that your father was in and we met.”

“So did Aunt Hermione know him then?” James asked.

“No, but I remember her saying how she'd read up on him,” said the Professor. “Or at least she'd come across his name. She knew a lot about him before they met - but then again Hermione did know a great many things”

James didn't like how this was going. The idea of Aunt Hermione reading up on Dad equated to the same thing as Celesca spying on him during his Quidditch sessions. Things weren't going well.

“So you were friends with him?” James continued.

“Yes, I like to think so,” said Professor Longbottom. “Not quite as close as Ron or Hermione, mind you, but they were a special trio.”

“Who would you say was closer to my dad, out of the other two?”

“What an odd question?” said Professor Longbottom, studying James as though trying to work out where this was all going. “Well, definitely Ron at first. They were boys and at that age they were joined at the hip. Later, though, Hermione proved her worth through all the trails and tribulations they went through and your father learned how priceless she was to him. I don't think either was outright closer - more like, closer in their own ways.”

“In their own ways - what do you mean?” James asked.

“They both brought their own qualities to the dynamic,” said the Professor. “They both helped Harry in unique ways and both contributed to the downfall of Voldemort. What's all this about, James? These are highly unusual questions.”

“I…do you think there is any chance my dad and Aunt Hermione could be having an affair?”

Professor Longbottom spat his coffee into an empty plant pot nearby. It was something of a miracle that he didn't fall from his stool, such was the shock he showed at James's question. It took his a few moments to gather himself.

“I didn't expect that!” he spluttered. “Of all the things…why would you think that?”

“Is it possible?” asked James, unmoved.”

“No, not at all,” said Professor Longbottom. “What on earth has given you that idea?”

James told his story, starting at what he could remember was the beginning. He told Professor Longbottom all about the Christmas at Sparrow's Nook, the lack of interaction between his dad and his aunt; he moved on to the ways they acted when no-one else was around, the flirting the ease of conversation, all in stark contrast to how they were with other people; Rita Skeeter's articles came next and rounded off all of James's concerns. He finished by reiterating his question to the Professor.

“So, what would you think?” he asked.

Professor Longbottom looked perturbed, and much less convinced about his opinions than he had been ten minutes before.

“I still don't think it's possible,” he said eventually. “Your parents and the Weasleys are two of the strongest couples I know, and they get on so well. I can't see them having an affair.”

“I don't think they are,” said James. “I'm more concerned about what happened before, when they were younger. You were there - that's why I'm asking you. Did they ever seem more than friends?”

“They were always closer than friends,” said Professor Longbottom. “But so were he and Ron, and I'm quite sure they didn't have any sort of illicit relationship.”

“I really hope not,” said James. “Him and Aunt Hermione is bad enough…but think back, sir. What about the stuff with Krum.”

The Professor's eyes glazed over as a memory came back to him. James didn't like the look of the response building up.

“Now that you mention that, there was a lot of press about them,” sad Professor Longbottom. “It was mostly that Skeeter woman meddling but people believed it. Looking back, it was easy to see how people could have thought they were together. I don't ever remember Krum saying Harry was his rival but something kept him and Hermione apart. Even I thought they might have had something going on…I can't believe I forgot that.”

“Forgot what?” asked James.

“We had a Ball at Christmas that year,” the Professor recalled. “I asked Hermione to go; I didn't have feelings for her or anything but she'd always been so nice to me. Anyway, she said she already had a date and I remember now how I was surprised she turned up with Krum. I thought it was bound to be Harry she was going with.”

“Why?”

“Harry hadn't asked anyone,” said Professor Longbottom. “It went all around the school when he asked Cho Chang later. I thought he might have asked Hermione in private as she would have kept it to herself. Speaking of Cho, she thought there was something going on, too. We set up a secret sort of club, where your dad taught us practical Defence, and one of Cho's friends ratted us out. I was coming down the stairs one evening and I heard her and your dad arguing. You see, Hermione had jinxed the list we all signed up to and the traitor sprouted huge pimples on her face when she told on us. Cho blamed Hermione, Harry defended her, and I heard Cho make some sort of suggestive comment about your dad and Hermione. I even remember someone saying later that Cho gave up on Harry because she thought she'd never be closer to him than Hermione.”

“Then its true,” said James, despairingly. “Something did go on.”

“Not as far as I knew,” said the Professor. “People talked and gossiped, as they are want to do, but there was never any sort of relationship other than friends that I knew about - and anything to do with your father was hot news. Think about how fast everyone knew about your relationship - it would have been multiplied for your dad.”

“You heard about us?” said James, looking at Celesca.

“The Hogwarts grapevine puts Owl Post and the Floo Network in the shade when it come to news travelling fast,” said the Professor. “But I'd only have to look at you to know there was something going on.”

“Just like with my dad and Aunt Hermione,” said James, mutely.

“No, they never looked like that,” said Professor Longbottom. “It was just a possibility that wouldn't have come as a surprise but that nobody would have expected.”

“That doesn't make a lot of sense,” said James.

“Love never does,” said Professor Longbottom. “You've been comparing yourself to them, haven't you? Thinking, maybe, that because you are together they must have been?”

“Well, doesn't that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” said the Professor. He was grinning a little. “And if love and relationships were even and equal you'd be right. Unfortunately, they are not. Just because you two resemble Harry Potter and Hermione Granger doesn't mean you are them, or they you. All people and all relationships are unique and individual. To think that two separate people will act the same way because they are similar is to be naïve about the variety of life.”

“See, I told you,” said Celesca, who James had almost forgotten was there. “I've been trying to tell him that myself, Professor.”

“And you should listen, James,” said Professor Longbottom. “As far as I know, Harry and Hermione were nothing but friends when I was in school with them and they both married soon after leaving Hogwarts. If something had gone on it would have been very brief, but Hermione and Ron were already courting by then so I can't see that happening.”

“But do you think they might have had feelings for each other?” said James. “Me and Celesca are like Dad and Aunt Hermione. If nothing is impossible in love then they could have had something.”

“There is that chance, but if they did they never acted on it,” said Professor Longbottom. “At least, not what I saw. I wasn't at their side all the time but Ron was; if anything did exist between them Ron's presence would have seen in kept well hidden.”

“So the fact that so many people thought they might have had something going on means nothing?” James asked.

“If they didn't act on it, or if there wasn't anything there but rumour and gossip, then no,” said the Professor. “Don't think on it, James - your dad has loved your mum since they were sixteen. They have a family I know they love and that's all that matters. You're seeing problems that I don't think are there. I thought Harry and Hermione might have liked each other at fourteen, but I was wrong. It happens.”

“I think we've stayed long enough,” said James. “Thanks, sir. Thanks for being honest.”

“I hope I've helped put your mind to rest,” said Professor Longbottom.

“Yeah, thanks,” James lied blatantly.

“Thank you for the coffee,” said Celesca as James bundled her out the door and they made their way back towards the castle. They were in the Entrance Hall before she was able to speak again. “See - I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing? Are you mad?” said James in amazement. “That basically confirmed all my suspicions.”

“How so?”

“Well, not only did Rita Skeeter think something was going on but Viktor Krum, someone called Cho Chang, Professor Longbottom - how many others? If so many other people saw something between Dad and Aunt Hermione then I bet Mum and Uncle Ron did too and that's why they can't be themselves around them - they'd get too jealous and they'd have a right to be.”

“Mountain out of a molehill, James,” said Celesca, her ignorance so annoying. “You're just seeing what you want to see.”

“You think I want to see this!” James cried, his voice rising. “You think I want my dad to have a secret past with my aunt that they still carry on? How do I even know my mum is my mum? I could be Aunt Hermione's son.”

“Now you're just being completely ridiculous,” said Celesca.

“God, can't you see? Can't you just accept the obvious for once, or are you that delusional?”

“James, I…”

“Oh, whatever you're going to say just save it,” James snapped. “You don't want to believe me or help me, fine, but don't come over all superior like I'm some kind of idiot.”

“I'm not being superior,” said Celesca, greatly hurt in her look. “I'd never say anything like that about you. I'd never say you were an idiot.”

“No, you'd just treat me like one,” said James, nastily. “Maybe that's why my dad stayed away from my aunt - she probably looked down her nose at him too.”

“James, don't say things like that,” said Celesca, her eyes shining with tears. “I don't see you like that.”

“No, you just don't see me at all,” said James. He turned and stomped off leaving a trail of Celesca's sobs echoing behind him.

* * *

James didn't even try to sleep that night. Once his anger had died down and he realised how utterly stupid he had been he just lay in his bed tossing and turning and wondering just how he could apologise to Celesca. He considered why he had exploded at her, what had made him flip so dramatically and he couldn't put his finger on it. What Professor Longbottom had said hadn't even been that bad; it was little different to what he already knew and he realised that Celesca's logical approach applied here just as much as it had to Rita's articles and his own fears. She was right, as normal, and he had bitten her head off through his own frustrations at getting nowhere closer to the truth. He had expected answers from Professor Longbottom when all he'd got were more vague possibilities. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that there were only two people who could really answer his questions.

He got up early, at around six o'clock, and sat in the Common Room waiting for the first light to brighten the room. He was going to sit and wait for Celesca and do whatever it took to make her see what a fool he was. It gave him the chance to think about things, in particular Celesca's claim that he wanted to see a relationship between his dad and his aunt. Did he? Was that why he kept chasing the truth, despite knowing what such a revelation would do to his family? Did he think his relationship with Celesca was so perfect that he wanted to think his father had once enjoyed something similar, even if it wasn't with his mother? The possibility that this was true made James feel so rotten about himself that he didn't even want to dwell on it for any length of time.

It was an hour or so before the first risers began trickling down through the Common Room and towards breakfast. James looked at each of them in turn in case he was so tired that he missed Celesca's face as she passed. Eventually she did emerge, her eyes red and puffy and looking thoroughly miserable. She appeared surprised that James was up already and apparently waiting for her. Almost as if she knew what was coming she wasn't too stand-offish as James approached her.

“Can I walk you to breakfast?” he asked timidly.

Celesca nodded meekly and they made their way through the portrait hole. James tried to think what was the best thing to say; all of the petulant comments and nasty slurs chased each other over the well worn paths they'd been tracing all night in his mind and he couldn't decide which on to start with. Instead he plumped for general grovelling.

“Celesca, I'm so sorry,” he said. “I don't know what made me act that way last night.”

“I do,” said Celesca. “And though it's not the easiest time for you it doesn't make it right for you to jump down my throat all the time. What you said was really hurtful.”

“I know, and I'm a pleb for saying them,” said James. “I didn't mean a word of it.”

“I know that,” said Celesca. “But you shouldn't have said things like that. I'm here to take the flak when you get frustrated but don't make it personal. Whatever has gone on, or hasn't one on, with your family isn't my fault.”

James felt awful and simply bowed his head and walked on in silence. The hurt in Celesca's voice cut through him as though it were his own physical pain. He could only mutter again and again how sorry he was.

“Good,” said Celesca. “I love you, James, but I won't take being abused like that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and feeling all misunderstood and maybe you won't see things with those blurred glasses you've been wearing lately.”

They entered the Great Hall and made their way to the Gryffindor Table. There was an air of anger and hostility from Celesca but James was at least thankful that she still wanted to sit next to him. He felt too miserable to eat at first and sat there looking at food rather than eating it. Celesca shook her head at him.

“Look, I told you I've accepted your apology,” she said. “You were a wally, I agree, it's done. There's no point starving yourself because we had a row. Couples have little spats now and then, it happens. Just try not to be too horrible to me, that's all I ask.”

“I don't want to be horrible to you at all,” James protested vehemently.

“I know, sweety, but it happens,” said Celesca, softening somewhat. “I know you didn't mean what you said, I forgive you for saying it. No harm done. Now eat something before you start to rot away. I'd miss you if that happened.”

“Even though I yelled at you?”

“Well at least no-one can say we don't have passion in out relationship,” said Celesca.

With the mood lightened, James reached over for the nearest toast rack and grabbed a few slices. A smearing of butter and jam later and he was gorging indecently of his breakfast, as though eating would wash away the shame he was feeling. In his distracted mood he barely noticed when the post owls swooped in and consequently was left with a lapful of orange juice as Celesca's Daily Prophet collided with his glass and knocked it flying. Celesca cleared the spillage up with her wand, a little grin hitched onto her face as though it was the least James deserved for his outburst. He couldn't disagree but his mind was soon taken by a feature on the front page of the newspaper.

“Oh no, not today” he moaned.

“What is it?”

“Rita Skeeter and her special article,” said James.

Celesca took the newspaper and read the small overview of Rita's article. She didn't emerge with the best look on her face.

“What does it say?” asked James.

“Inside today's Sunday Prophet,” Celesca read. “Read the full and exclusive interview with Number One author, Rita Skeeter, as she reveals the full and sordid story of two of the most prominent members of wizard government. In a feature packed with shocks, read about Harry Potters plans to take over the world; about Hermione Weasley's dark past, including Dark Magic and kidnap and how both are rearing children to extend their influence at Hogwarts School - a work already in progress. Read this whole, unmissable article on pages 17-20 for your chance to win a signed copy of Rita's fabulous, Hogwarts: The REAL History.”

James fumed and was sure steam might be coming from his ears. It was only the raw memory of his last outburst that prevented him from exploding again. He sat and stewed and waited for the right thing to come to his mind.

“I don't think we should stay here,” Celesca whispered.

“Why not?”

“I'm not the only one with a copy of the Prophet,” said Celesca. “And if I'm not mistaken a lot of those other copies are already heading to page 17.”

Celesca was right. From his seat James could see the same picture of his dad and Aunt Hermione staring back up from various copies of the paper.

“Come on,” said James. He got up and the quickly exited the hall. He turned to look at Celesca who was livid.

“God, I'm really starting to hate that woman,” she cried, taking James by surprise.

“What could she have written this time?” James wondered out loud. “How much more slander can she invent about my family? About me…and probably us?”

Celesca howled in anger. “I really hate her, James. She really does have a poison pen.”

“What did you say?” said James, perking up.

“A poison pen,” Celesca repeated. “It's a Muggle term for writing nasty letters.”

“A poison pen…”said James, his imagination whirring. “Hey, Cel - would it be possible for an Animagi to include something with them as part of their transformation?”

“I don't know, it'd be very difficult,” said Celesca, thinking. “Why are you…of course! Rita and Richard!”

“Exactly!” James cried. “What if Rita is the Animagus beetle but she didn't actually bite Richard? What if she managed to transfigure a pen so that it either became part of her -”

“- or it was small enough to, say, hold in her mouth -”

“- then she stabbed Richard with it and the thing was filled with poison?”

“It's certainly possible,” said Celesca excitedly. “And it's probably likely that none of the people trying to help him have looked at Muggle poisons. Rita is so sneaky that she probably thought of that too and used one.”

“We have to tell the Headmaster, come on,” said James.

“Great idea, I was just about to pay him a visit myself,” said a familiar voice coming through the main doors.

“Dad?” said James, flabbergasted. “What are you doing here?”

“A student has been attacked, possibly with Dark Magic involved, so I've heard,” said Dad; he spoke with such authority that James felt obliged to cower away and it was only the pointed look he gave, which left James in no doubt where Dad had received his information from, that kept him rooted to the spot.

“Yeah, he's my friend,” said James.

“Then take me to him,” said Dad, more of a command than a request. “I think I need to have a few words with the Headmaster about the dangers of not bringing such events with my office. I would have spoken to him last night but I arrived too late.”

“You were here last night?” said James.

“Yes, Neville put me up in the staff dorms after he'd finished his work in the greenhouses.”

James walked on in silence and let his father's words wash over him. He felt more anxious than he could explain; his father was here because he'd been told about Richard and James would bet his right arm that Aunt Hermione was the one who'd mentioned it. Then he'd arrive last night and spoken with Professor Longbottom. Had he been there when they spoke or heard anything? Or was it just coincidence. Either way, James felt almost nauseous with the fear of what his father was going to do. If this was what was going to happen when he confronted him about his relationship with Aunt Hermione, James wasn't entirely sure he had the courage to do it.

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