Tapestry

Brief Author Note: I'm sorry I seem to be getting carried away writing a James/Celesca fic (I'm steadily falling in love with her) and running the risk of writing an actual original story and forgetting this was supposed to be a H/Hr fic, lol. Anyway, I can't guarantee this wont happen again so I've woven a little bit of H/Hr in here, not lots (far too early for that) but hopefully enough to tide you over. That's why this chapter is extra super long. I was going to divide it into two halves but last time that happened we got HBP and DH! Enough said I think….

p.s I promise not to annoy you with author notes on every chapter!!!

Chapter Nine

The next few days were a little on the strange side. James and Celesca had parted after their extra long hug without anything being settled formally between them. It was certainly a concern that played on James's mind when he was trying in vain to sleep a few hours later and he suspected Celesca might be having the same problem, a suspicion confirmed when she showed up at breakfast yawning widely with bags under her eyes. The inability of either of them to take the lead, express themselves properly or give in wholly to the feelings they both seemed to share was proving a major stumbling block which led only to uncertainty and awkwardness.

Despite this they were unable to hide that something had happened between them. They were drawn into one another's personal space so often it could have been by some magnetic force; at meal times they would sit next to each other, dragging their friends along with them, generally meaning that Richard and Cassie had to take it in turns to be the third wheel even if they didn't realise it. The four of them began spending more and more time together - in the common room, at break times, walking to lessons; all this on top of eating three meals a day together.

By this time James was beginning to worry that if he didn't sort something with Celesca soon it would become so difficult to bring up that they wouldn't get anywhere. He was also concerned at just how long Richard and Cassie's patience would last; he knew they were being good friends and humouring Celesca and himself, but things couldn't stay that way forever. James's problem was that he wasn't sure why he kept getting tongue-tied when any opportunity did arise to set things with Celesca or why she was holding back from doing the same. He imagined that she was as scared as he was, though his fear was about having an actual relationship with a girl for the first time; his other girlfriends were flimsy, throw away things but it would be entirely different with Celesca. James's haziness on Celesca's motives was partly responsible for his hesitation; perhaps she didn't want a relationship, for which there could be a whole host of reasons, or maybe she didn't want to be gossiped about around Hogwarts. Either way, James couldn't think how to advance the situation and spent much of his time hoping for a break.

One evening James, Richard and Cassie were sat in the Common Room letting their dinner go down. Celesca had gone off to Gobstones Club and the look she'd given him was agonizing, as if she wanted some parting gesture, like a hug or a kiss. This had made James feel anxious and torn inside as his aching for the situation to be resolved grew and grew. He wanted more than ever to just get it sorted and let everyone know and deal with all that would come along with it. In his plagued state he didn't join in with much of the conversation in the Common Room and simply turned away from Richard and Cassie to think. He fell asleep for a short while and the other two must have heard him snoring because when he awoke again a little later they were talking as if he couldn't hear them next to him.

“Celesca's late,” Cassie was saying. “I don't think I could play Gobstones for that long; I'd get so bored.”

“Yeah, I'm just surprised she'd want to be away from Jimmy, there, for so long,” replied Richard.

“Do you know what's going on with them?” asked Cassie.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, something's obviously gone on,” said Cassie. “But Celesca is being really coy and saying nothing. Has James said anything to you?”

“No, not a word,” said Richard. “Normally he can't stop gloating when he's got a girl on his arm.”

“I didn't think it seemed like him either,” said Cassie. “I wouldn't have thought it was his style to do nothing when a girl liked him.”

“And there's been plenty of those,” said Richard. “Half the girls here have fancied James at one time or another. You included.”

James had to stop himself from looking round at this.

“I've never fancied James,” said Cassie. “Not properly, anyway.”

“You've forgotten how you went to the Summer Ball with him in Third Year, have you?”

“Well, nobody else had asked me and I wasn't about to turn down James Potter, was I?” said Cassie fairly. “Alright, so he is a bit dishy. But it doesn't mean I fancy him. I can see why you remember that Ball.”

“Why's that? Because you ended up going off with me?” said Richard. “Only time I've ever got one over on James. I like reminding him of it from time to time.”

“Why did I go off with you?” Cassie asked.

“Wasn't that something to do with Celesca?” said Richard.

“Oh yeah!” said Cassie excitedly. “Nobody had asked her to go and James felt sorry for her and offered her a dance. They went off and me and you paired up. See - they liked each other even then. Why doesn't James just do something! Celly won't; I love the girl to bits but she's a coward. What's James's excuse, I wonder.”

“Isn't it obvious? He's in love, he can't operate properly.”

“Love!” laughed Cassie. “Are you serious?”

“Well, there have been some pretty anvil-sized hints,” said Richard.

“Like?”

“Like the awkwardness they have around each other; the fact they can't eat a meal these days unless they are side by side; then there's how they have to walk to every class together, not to mention the ways they look at each other. And when was the last time you had a conversation with Celesca where she didn't mention Jimmy at least three times? I don't know if it's the same for you but James never stops talking about how Celesca said this or Celesca did that. I wouldn't mind but I am there when most of these things happen.”

James listened, wondering whether Richard's words were true and if he really was always going on about Celesca. The realisation that his friend was right came as something of a thunderbolt.

“If that's the case, then maybe I've got James all wrong,” said Cassie. “I thought he was just a serial womaniser but if he has actual feelings for Celesca then maybe I should stop being so hard on him.”

“Oh he has feelings alright,” said Richard. “Don't look at me like that, you dirty mere, I didn't mean those sorts of feelings. Well, maybe he has those, too, but he's totally in love with her. I'm not sure he knows it just yet but he will. If they get together, they'll never split up. It's marriage and kids stuff with these two.”

“Then we have to get them together,” said Cassie. “If they can't get their acts together we'll have to do it for them.”

“You want me to help you?” asked Richard. “Don't you hate me, though?”

“No, I don't hate you,” said Cassie. “You're just a wart. But maybe there is some sentimentality under all that machismo that could help both our friends. Why would I hate you, anyway? Forgotten that Ball already, have you?”

James stretched and moaned, interrupting the details of Richard and Cassie's sojourn which he was certain were about to follow. He turned around, composing himself as he did so and tried to join in the conversation as if he hadn't heard what had just passed between them.

“I must have fallen asleep,” he said with a mock yawn. “What time is it?”

“Nearly nine,” said Richard.

“We don't know where Celesca is,” said Cassie, looking at him with much more respect than he was used to. “She's late back. Perhaps you should go and look for her.”

“Why me?” said James. “What makes me more likely to find her?”

“Grouchy after sleep, aren't you?” said Richard. “Don't you want to know where Celesca is?”

“No,” said James.

“Why not?” asked Cassie.

“Because I know where she is, she's right there,” said James. Celesca was crossing the room to them and James felt his face glow despite his attempts at concealing it. He had to laugh; Cassie and Richard exchanged worried looks, perhaps fearing Celesca had been behind them all along and heard what they'd been saying.

“You're late,” said Cassie. “Went the long way around, did you?”

“No, I had to go and see Professor Roth,” said Celesca. “The Alchemy Society is starting up again next week. Here you go, James, I got you a timetable. You are still coming this term, aren't you?”

Celesca looked hopefully into James's eyes; he knew she was thinking of all the extra time they could spend together; his thoughts were on the possibilities provided by late night walks back alone. He could talk to her about anything, if he could find the courage.

“Yeah, of course,” said James. Celesca's radiant smile nearly knocked his eyebrows off. “When's the first one?”

James scanned the sheet of parchment Celesca had given him. “It's Monday night,” Celesca said quickly, giving James the impression she'd memorised it already. He wondered why. “On the top of North Tower. It'll be nice up there in the moonlight.”

Celesca seemed to think she'd said too much and James felt she'd meant to think those things rather than say them aloud. Blushing scarlet, she sat down in the chair behind James where he couldn't see her. James turned his attention to scattered pieces of parchment which covered the hearth rug in front of Richard. He was a talented artist and had been hard at work on some new creations.

“What you working on?” asked James.

“New picture story,” said Richard, sketching carefully with his tongue pointing out. He'd made several stories during the time James had known him; there were no words, just pictures to tell the tales. James was his biggest fan and appreciated just how seriously Richard took his work.

“What's this one about?” James asked, picking up the nearest sheet. It showed a monster exploding out of a Wizard's chest. It was gruesome.

“Well, there's the Chest Monster,” said Richard. “It's an evil being, born from death, you know, of the Wizard. It's a bit philosophical. I'm trying to think of something that can kill it.”

“Dragons are good,” said James. “I've still got that picture of the nasty Hungarian Horntail you did. That's class, why not something like that?”

“No, it has to be mythological,” said Richard. “That usually means two animals fused. It'll come to me eventually.”

They stayed that way until bed, when James and Celesca parted with their secret smile. The next day brought with it the first ream of homework requiring all night attention. Cassie and Richard took one of the large Common Room tables and said they couldn't fit James and Celesca in as there was no more room. James knew this was a simple ruse to force them onto the smaller table in the corner but he didn't complain. While Celesca sat down and arranged her things, James sprinted up to his dorm, grabbed Aunt Hermione's books on Transfiguration and Charms and returned to Celesca as though they were connected by elastic cable.

“They're a bit battered, aren't they?” asked Celesca as James dropped his books down beside her. “I would have thought you'd have brand new ones.”

“I did, but these are better,” said James. “My aunt, Hermione, gave them to me. They're the reason my grades are improving. I doubt you'll approve when you see what's in them.”

Celesca took the nearest book and flipped through the pages.

“Notes, lots of notes,” she said, eyeing the margins. “Improvements on spells, clarity on technique, your aunt must be really clever. Is that the one who's Head of Magical Law? The one Rita Skeeter was on about.”

“Yeah,” said James. “You think this is cheating, don't you?”

“No I don't,” said Celesca. “You're not cheating; she's not doing your work for you, is she? You're just going about it a different way. And if it works, so much the better. Let me have a look at them.”

She grinned mischievously and turned to the page on Magical Movement: Limbs for the Limited.

“Terrible pun,” said James, reading the title.

“Mmm,” Celesca agreed. “James - what do you think this means?”

She was pointing at some of Aunt Hermione's scribbles.

“Which one?”

“No, not the instructions,” said Celesca. Look - under this one, and this one, and that one there, she's written the same thing. A star and three letters.”

“H.J.P,” said James, reading over Celesca's shoulder. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know,” said Celesca. She looked at him; they were so close their faces were almost touching. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don't breathe in my ear, it's making me fidgety.”

“Sorry,” said James. He backed away with a cheeky grin. “So, the letters? What do you reckon?”

“Don't know, must be some sort of acronym,” said Celesca.

“Acro-what?”

“Acronym,” said Celesca. “You know, letters standing for something else.”

“Like what?” asked James.

“Something like S.P.E.W,” said Celesca. “The house-elf lobby. This must be something like that. If it's in a textbook the `H' could stand for homework.”

“Homework…Joining…Paragraph? Point?” James suggested.

“Maybe, but I don't think your aunt was educationally subnormal,” said Celesca grinning. “Acronyms have to make sense, dear. Let's see if they're anywhere else.”

Celesca flicked through more and more pages of the Transfiguration book while James followed suit with the Charms volume. Sure enough, in both tomes, under almost every point or note Aunt Hermione had made the letters H.J.P appeared. James was puzzled and excited all at once; this was a mystery and he was dying to know the meaning behind this strange trend.

After wasting much of the next hour coming up with increasingly wild and ridiculous possibilities for H.J.P, James and Celesca finally got to work. Fearing that he'd end up copying most of Celesca's essays, James felt it best if they didn't work on the same subject at the same time. Even so, by the time James had finished both his pieces he felt that between Aunt Hermione's teenage jottings and Celesca's asides, pointers and corrections (she didn't mind looking over his shoulder and offering advice, leading James to understand where she was coming from with the whole ear blowing thing) he felt as though the only original parts he'd contributed were the title and his own messy handwriting. Still, both pieces were longer than asked for and were packed full of excellent points, making James warn Celesca that he was going to challenge her position as top dog in the year.

It was a good thing she was so in to academics, James regularly considered; it was the only neutral point on which they could meet and talk without becoming so embarrassed that one or the other had to excuse themselves and leave the room. Her talents in this area extended to research and James was exceedingly grateful for this; Celesca was a regular library partner, helping scour the old Daily Prophet archives for works by Rita Skeeter. This made the job not only pass quicker but made it more pleasurable as well; James had lost count of the number of times they'd `accidentally' brushed hands when reaching across for the next edition on the pile; or how they seemed to rest their arms close to each other on the desk when reading, meaning that every now and then they'd be touching for considerable periods, only breaking when one of them found an item of note. Much to James's disappointment, this happened quite frequently as it turned out that events at Hogwarts were regularly reported during Dad's second year.

“Here's another one,” said Celesca. “Gilderoy Lockhart on the best way to teach students to duel. How many stories did they actually write about him?”

“Count the pile,” said James, nodding to a small stack nearby with a dozen Gilderoy Lockhart's beaming back. He picked up another newspaper. “This one's out of order. It should have been near the start of the year. Oh, my…”

“What is it?” asked Celesca.

“It's Dad,” said James. He slid the paper to Celesca. The front page showed yet another wide-grinned picture of Lockhart but squashed uncomfortably under one arm was a little boy with a lightening shaped scar sticking starkly out from a dirty forehead.

“Gilderoy Lockhart signs books for Harry Potter,” Celesca read. “Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, finally met his match in the celebrity stakes, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent. Best selling author, Gilderoy Lockhart, attending the book signing of his number one autobiography, Magical Me, gave Mr Potter, 12, a cauldron-full of advice on maintaining a dignified profile in the public eye. Young Harry, scribbling notes furiously, is sure to have been impressed by Lockhart and will get further chance to pick his hero's brains as he announced his acceptance of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching post at Hogwarts School. Few could argue his qualifications for the job, but many feel he is selling the world short by removing himself from their service. For the Prophet's Opinion, see page 7. The event was disrupted by the distasteful hooligan behaviour of Mr Arthur Weasley, who brutally assaulted the highly-respected Lucius Malfoy in an unprovoked attack. Mr Weasley is currently facing an inquiry at the Ministry of Magic for apparent misuse of Muggle artefacts, the department he, himself, is supposed to head. Mr Weasley has been…continued page 23.”

“She really does talk a lot of dung,” said James. “Dad would never let a smarmy, toothy poser like Lockhart be his hero. And as for my Granddad being a hooligan - that's the funniest thing I've ever heard.”

“Lucius Malfoy, respected,” said Celesca. “What planet is she on? I know you stood up for poor Scorpius but he gets his reputation from above. Even if there is any truth there I bet any attack was provoked.”

“I hope he gave him a black eye,” said James, reverently.

They continued scanning the articles, finding no further mention of James's father but there was an extra long piece dated from the end of the school year which told of considerable damage being done to the Hogwarts plumbing system. Lucius Malfoy was the main interviewee for this piece and bemoaned the high cost of repairs to ensure the school would be open in time. He didn't name names, but he did mention that certain famous students, thinking they were untouchable, were involved.

“If that was Dad, and how many other famous students were there,” James said to Celesca, by this time at dinner. “Then that proves Rita's claim.”

“Not really,” said Celesca. “She wrote that article and made the claim. How do you know she didn't make both up? There is no proof in anything she writes; no hard evidence or unbiased, balanced reporting. Just scandal and sensation; it's not easy to hear but your dad would be an easy target for stories like that.”

Not for the first time, James realised Celesca was right. It wouldn't stop him wading through Rita's work but he knew he needed to take everything with a pinch of salt. If that quill of hers was any indication of the type of things she produced it would be amazing if any of it were true.

The next morning at breakfast James's mind was taken away from the possible contents of Rita's past work, and on to worry about future pieces, with the arrival of the morning post. Being sat next to Celesca at most meals, James had come to learn that she had a subscription to the Daily Prophet and every morning, like clockwork, the daily edition was delivered to her by her owl, Hester. James had realised quickly that the owl had no sense of target and that it was best not to eat bowls of cereal unless he wanted to get a daily splash of milk in the eye.

That morning was no exception. With Richard and Cassie in close proximity there was no chance for James and Celesca to discuss anything they'd read about in Rita's works or speculate further on the meaning of the mysterious three-lettered acronym in Aunt Hermione's books which, James had discovered, appeared in every one she'd given to him. Whatever it was must have had universal application; he thought about writing to ask her but decided against it when Celesca pointed out that it might be something personal or that she might have forgotten it by now in any case. There was nothing to suggest that when the owls flew overhead a chance to speak to her in person was coming with them.

The newspaper crashed onto the table knocking James's fork flying to the ground. Celesca bent down to pick it up, prompting some innuendo-laden looks from Richard, which James refrained from answering with his usual under-the-table-shin kick in case he knocked Celesca's head off with his knee. This allowed him the chance to glance at the newspaper and what he saw made him tense up; there was a large picture on the front and even though it was rolled up there was no doubting those huge glasses and those bangles.

“Celesca!” James hissed quietly.

“What is it? What's wrong?” she asked, coming back up.

“The paper! Look!”

Celesca quickly unfurled the paper and her eyes widened as she took in the headline. She read the article quickly, her expression growing more angry and worried with each line. Eventually, James could stand no more.

“Well? What is it?”

“Look for yourself,” said Celesca.

James took the paper from her and read the article.

The Comeback Queen!

Veteran writer and commentator, Rita Skeeter, has proven that age is no barrier to success with her smash hit new book, Hogwarts: The REAL History. The 300-page expose of the premier magical education institute in the world makes intriguing, informing, sometimes shocking reading, but it seems to have touched a nerve in society. Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley's leading book retailer, announced yesterday that the book is flying off the shelves. Mr M Corner explains:

“It's quite remarkable. For a writer many considered old news and washed up, this is a fresh and thought provoking insight into the school most of us attended. Having been there at the time myself, the sections regarding Dumbledore and Harry Potter were of particular interest, and were surprisingly accurate, if damning. The public is certainly taken with it; we are regularly selling out and as soon as a new order comes in the shelves are soon empty again. It's been great for business.”

With the successful return of Ms Skeeter, the Daily Prophet will be running a promotion next week offering the chance to win signed copies of the new book. Alongside this will be a special interview with the author herself where she will answer hard questions and reveal new secrets she has unearthed about Harry Potter and Hermione Weasley, Head of Magical Law, and her claims about their continuing control of the Magical Halls of Power through their own children and their recruits. More next week.

James stared at the words for several minutes, trying to take it all in. Damning news about Dad, secrets about he and Aunt Hermione and some sort of power pact, more next week…it sounded like a bad dream. James wanted more than anything to dismiss is all as garbage but he couldn't. He knew Dad and Aunt Hermione had made a secret pact; what if their silence and distance was part of that? Now he'd gone and exposed them by losing his temper in front of Rita. They'd crucify him. Just then, a little cough behind drew his attention and he turned to see Albus facing him. They hadn't spoken since the night they returned to Hogwarts and the atmosphere was strained between them.

“Have you seen the paper?” Albus asked.

“Yeah, just read it now,” said James.

“What's that all about? It isn't true, is it?” Albus asked. He sounded very worried.

“No of course it isn't,” said James, fiercely. “That woman is a dangerous liar. Don't believe it.”

“But what if it is true? What if we are controlling the school? Dad could have put us under the Imperious Curse and we'd never know it?”

“Why do you think we'd be under the Imperius Curse?” asked James nervously, remembering Rita's words about Dad in Gringotts Bank.

“One of my friends has that new book,” said Albus quietly. “It says Dad knows how to use the Imperius Curse; loads of goblins and other Wizards say they saw him do it and the security systems at the bank recorded him being there at the times the say it happened. It can't be true, can it, James?”

Albus looked terrified, as if his world were coming down. James forgot he was supposed to be mad at him and gave him a hug.

“Listen, little bro,” he said, comfortingly. “This is all bull poo. Do you really think Dad would put his own kids under the Imperious Curse? Do you think Mum would let him? Come on, don't believe all this rubbish. It's just stories to sell to the papers.”

“It's true, Albus,” said Celesca. “None of Rita's writing is the truth. Don't let it get to you.”

Albus smiled at her as James let him go. “You're nice, I like you.”

“Thanks,” said Celesca, smiling sweetly.

“Go on, get out of it,” said James. “And don't let that stupid woman put ideas in your head.”

As Albus walked away, Celesca leaned close to James and whispered, “What's the matter, James? Jealous?”

James grinned back at Celesca. “Of that little twerp? Never.”

“I don't know,” Celesca continued. “He's quite cute. Shame he wasn't a little older.”

She looked passionately at James and he knew that had they been alone they'd have kissed there and then. James backed away, feeling hot and stuffy all of a sudden; Celesca merely grinned sheepishly and looked back at the newspaper. This brought James's mind back to that problem and he could think of little else for most of the day. Later on Celesca, feeling that James needed some time to clear his head, suggested they go for a walk round the lake. They grabbed some sandwiches from the Great Hall at lunch and slipped out before anyone could ask questions.

The lake was still like chilled steel and the air frosty but James didn't mind one bit as he and Celesca walked slowly around the shore. They ate and chatted comfortably enough but James felt it would be so much easier if they were going out; that way they could simply hold hands rather than banging them together as they swung by their sides. The thought of holding hands with Celesca kept threatening to draw his attention away from the conversation, which inevitably swung around to the newspaper story.

“How are you now? About all that?” Celesca asked.

“I'm alright,” said James. “I can handle anything she might write, no problem.”

“But what is it then, if it isn't that?”

“I don't want to think about how they'll react, my dad and my aunt,” said James. Voicing his concerns to Celesca felt like burdening her, but the release was potent. “I'm worried they'll think I dropped them in it. That I gave Rita the ammunition with my outburst. They'll think it's my fault.”

“Why would they?” said Celesca. “The way Rita spoke it sounded like she had prior experiences with both of them. I bet they'll know just how untrustworthy a hag she is. There isn't any truth there anyway. Is there?”

There was caution in her last question, as though she knew she was crossing the privacy line. James, however, found he didn't mind her asking and was quite happy telling her what he'd seen during the holidays. Celesca looked thoughtful and pensive as James related the ways Dad and Aunt Hermione had been cold and distant, giving their history as a backdrop that made their behaviour strange. Celesca was horrified when James told the part about Lily's brush with death, slightly embellishing his heroics, but still enjoying the impressed look Celesca wore as he did so.

“Then that night I heard them talking,” James said. “It was odd, like none of it had happened. Just normal talking, but really cryptic; about agreements and not seeing each other and things. It didn't make any sense. And now there's this - and even I'm starting to wonder about it. But if it comes out that it has anything to do with what I said they'll both go mental.”

“That is very peculiar,” said Celesca. “But you can't think that what you said had any bearing on what Rita has written. The big revelations are probably from her book, which she wrote before she saw you. Anything else she'll say can't be that important.”

“But she said she knew things, about me and my family,” said James. “What if she has dug things up? Secret things that my Dad doesn't want known. Then there's you; I gave her your name and she might drag you into this. Lord knows what she might invent about you.”

“Oh let her, don't worry about me,” said Celesca. “What's the worse she can say? That I'm a clone of your aunt or that I'm, well, close to you. They're compliments if anything.”

James wanted to kiss her but again stumbled when it came to do it.

“Look, if you're that worried why don't you write to your dad and your aunt, tell them what happened and see what they say,” said Celesca, mercifully keeping the lack of intimacy pause brief. “That way, if they are mad you'll offset it by telling them yourself, and if they aren't maybe they'll put your mind at rest.”

It was a solid idea and James didn't know why he hadn't thought of it himself.

“I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes,” he said.

“I'm sure you'd survive,” said Celesca timidly.

“Well, at least that makes one of us,” said James.

“Come on, lets get up to the owlery,” said Celesca, shyly. “We can get letters to both your dad and aunt before dinner.”

They made their way swiftly to the owlery speaking very little. James felt that Celesca's emotional walls were thick and hard to penetrate and that perhaps he was trying to push her too hard. He needed to back away and let her be comfortable in her own time. For now, with tasks in hand, that was easy to do; the longer it went on, though, James knew he would have to force the issue.

Once in the owlery, Celesca scurried about the place grabbing quills, ink and parchment while James prepared a couple of tawny owls for the delivery. James then wrote two short letters; the one to Dad was apologetic and full of rants about Rita's conniving ways, as he felt Dad would likely be the angrier of the two and this would direct any blame away from himself. The second, to Aunt Hermione, was written from the point of view of a much more worried version of James, one he thought would appeal to the kind side of his aunt, the one who said James was her favourite and would do anything for. Celesca checked and approved of them both and they attached them to the owls, watching them fly away until they were out of sight.

They walked slowly down from the owlery back towards the castle. Although there was still largely silence between them it was calm and reasonably comfortable. On another day, James thought, this could be just a leisurely romantic stroll. Whether it was in this drifting state of mind or whether he'd just given in to his instincts, James found himself reaching for Celesca's hand and holding it. She gave a little gasp of surprise that James almost missed but she squeezed his hand back making him feel almost delirious.

“Everything will be alright, James,” she said without looking at him. “It'll be fine.”

“I trust you,” said James, as they walked quietly back to the castle.

Afternoon lessons passed in a flash. Separated by sitting apart, James felt as if the closest moment he and Celesca had come to actually getting together was drifting away and the progression to that point was receding fast. It was hard to concentrate, even if it was Alchemy and James would normally have been fascinated to hear about the characteristics of the Fifth Stage. He could train his mind on nothing else but the smooth touch of Celesca's skin that his own palm was yearning to feel again.

He had thought that perhaps their moment had gone and that he would have to break Celesca down all over again, but at dinner she sat so close to him that he could feel the rhythmic movements of her breathing. Cassie gave James several warm looks and though James wasn't sure if this was because she suspected something had happened or whether Celesca had told her it didn't really matter - with Celesca this near there was nothing else in the world.

James decided that night he would do something. He could stand it no longer and he would have to confront her and deal with the outcome. It was the middle of the evening and the Common Room was partially full. Richard and Cassie were whispering together, something James had noticed they did a lot recently, while several games of Wizard's Chess and Exploding Snap were going on nearby. Celesca was reading a book in one of the chairs facing the fire, James watching her in a seat to her right. He knew she could sense him; her eyes barely moved and she hardly ever turned a page, so whatever was going through her mind it wasn't the words in the story. James waited until there was no one in earshot when he spoke.

“Celesca, we need to talk,” he said.

She looked up immediately. On the floor nearby, James could see both Cassie and Richard tauten and incline their heads slightly towards them.

“Talk about what?” she asked.

“We need to clear some things up,” James said, knowing how bad a job he was doing of this.

“What sort of things?” she asked, moving slightly closer in her seat.

“You know,” said James quietly, leaning forward. “About you…and me and…Dad?”

“What?” said Celesca looking surprised. She followed James line of sight and fell silent, as had everyone else in the room. The portrait had swung open to let a visitor enter and he was standing at the centre of the room, looking around.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” asked James, getting up.

“What? Can't I come back to my old stomping ground?” asked Dad coming over. James was relieved to see he didn't look angry. “Merlin, I miss this place.”

Celesca looked up at James's father as he stopped near them. James saw him look at Celesca, then look at her and James together, with an oddly fond expression, almost reminiscing.

“Dad, you've met Celesca, remember?” said James.

“Of course,” said Dad warmly. “Luna's niece, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” said Celesca humbly.

“Did you enjoy your trip?” Dad asked.

“Oh yes, very much,” said Celesca. “Thank you for asking.”

“I miss Luna, it's a shame we fell out of touch,” said Dad wistfully. “You will give her my regards when you see her, won't you?”

“Of course,” said Celesca.

“I don't suppose I need to say why I'm here,” said Dad, to James. “I got your letter.”

“Are you angry?” James asked.

“Angry? Of course not,” said Dad. “What an odd thing to say. Why would you think that?”

“I thought that I might have dropped you in it,” said James. “I lost my temper with Rita. She might be trying to get revenge on me.”

“Trust me James,” said Dad. “If its revenge she's after she's got bigger grudges than against you. Come on, let's go somewhere more private.”

“I want Celesca to come - she knows everything anyway,” said James.

James felt oddly exposed as Dad looked at them both. He smiled that bizarre smile at them again before agreeing to James's request. The three of them left the Common Room to awed expressions; some, no doubt for seeing Harry Potter in the flesh, others wondering what the three of them were doing and a few who probably still had the Daily Prophet article in their heads. The portrait had barely closed when they turned to walk down the stairs only to bump into yet another surprise arrival.

“Aunt Hermione!” cried James. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, James,” she said, smirking. She turned to Dad. “I came as soon as I heard. I thought we might both have been summoned here.”

Both she and Dad stared at James with knowing looks.

“I didn't summon you here,” said James, defensively. “I just wanted to let you know what had happened, in case you blamed me for the stories that are going to come out.”

“It was actually my fault,” said Celesca quietly. “It was my idea; I put him up to it.”

“And a good one it was too,” said Aunt Hermione. “You must be Celesca. James told me you were the clever sort.”

Celesca beamed at James but he only had eyes for Aunt Hermione, who was giving them both the exact same look Dad had done earlier. It was starting to get unsettling.

“Come on, lets find somewhere quiet,” said Dad.

“I think I know just the place,” said Aunt Hermione with a wink at Dad who just said `Ah' by way of reply. She led the way a short distance to the Seventh floor where she stopped opposite a panting of Barnabus the Barmy being viciously clubbed by trolls. She turned to Dad and said, with that air of fond remembering, “Do you want to do the honours?”

Dad grinned widely at her. They held a short look that was like an abridged version of the one James had seen at Christmas then Dad walked back and fore in front of the wall opposite the painting. After the third time, and just when James thought his dad might have lost his mind, a large door suddenly materialised in the wall. Both James and Celesca gasped at the sight. James, for one, was so impressed that he missed the meaning in what Aunt Hermione said next as she turned to Dad.

“I see you've still got it,” she said.

“Some things you never lose,” Dad replied. James woke up from his awestruck self in time to register a happy exchange of smiles between Dad and Aunt Hermione before the former led the way into the room.

“Welcome to the Room of Requirement,” said Dad. “Now don't go showing this place to anyone. It's a secret and it'll be better if it stays that way.”

“I promise, Dad,” said James.

“The Room provides you with whatever you need,” said Aunt Hermione. “And we need somewhere quiet and I thought this was the perfect place.”

James looked around at the stark, bare walls with four hard plastic chairs around a table at the centre. It gave James the unpleasant sensation that he was about to be interrogated.

“It isn't the most well decorated of places…” said Aunt Hermione, smirking at Dad.

“Well, after twenty years of talking to Dark Wizards in places like this my mind can't think of much else,” said Dad. “Come on, let's sit down.”

They took seats around the table and Aunt Hermione conjured a jug of foaming butterbeer, four goblets and a tray of cauldron cakes with one flick of her wand.

“I can never get more than two things at once,” said Dad, admiring Aunt Hermione's handiwork. “I'd have got the jug but probably just a tray of goblets. Or a tray of just cauldrons.”

“No focus, see,” said Aunt Hermione teasingly. “Head Auror can't be as flash as it sounds.”

“Just pour the Butterbeer,” said Dad grinning.

This was the kind of relationship James had always imagined there to be between his Dad and his favourite aunt. It made their apparent separateness at Christmas all the more confusing.

“Right then, James, let's talk,” said Dad.

“Yes, let's hear it,” said Aunt Hermione in a business-like manner. “What exactly did that foul Skeeter woman say to you?”

“We agree that she's not the nicest person, then,” said Celesca.

“We've had our dealings with her,” said Dad. “This is my fault, really, James. I think I may have left you a legacy of people sniping for you. Zabini, Rita, probably a host of Slytherin kids.”

“How is any of that your fault?” asked Aunt Hermione, forcing James's mind back to all the times Celesca had defended him from his own self-doubt recently. It was an odd comparison. “These are bad people, James. Rita Skeeter is a talentless and manipulative hack. And, unfortunately, she's very good at it. Even now, twenty years after we had our problems with her, she still has the capacity for mischief.”

“What problems?” James asked.

“This and that,” said Dad with unmistakable evasion in his voice.

“Mostly nasty stories about Harry, then about me after I challenged her, then about Dumbledore later,” said Aunt Hermione swiftly. “As for this new book, well, I imagine it's more of the same.”

“Haven't you read it?” James asked. “Aren't you worried what it might say?”

“Harry and I have done nothing wrong,” said Aunt Hermione. “We don't have to defend ourselves, least of all to her.”

“Besides,” Dad said, taking over. “We've both read about as much of Rita's lies as we care to.”

“But what about these new things?” Celesca asked. “Couldn't they be damaging?”

“Only if we were guilty of something,” said Aunt Hermione.

“Which we aren't,” Dad added.

“What can we expect then?” said James. “I ranted at her, she's going to write nasty things about me and get Celesca involved too.”

James watched Dad and Aunt Hermione exchange one of those meaningful looks again. What did they mean?

“You'll have to ride it out,” said Aunt Hermione.

“Even if it's bad, even if it makes you the talk of the school,” said Dad. “I was many times, but stick close to your friends and get through it.”

“But Dad - just because Albus was worried - you haven't put us under the Imperius Curse, have you?”

Dad and Aunt Hermione laughed out loud.

“Of course not, son,” said Dad comfortingly. “Well, only when I want you to do the dishes or wash the car or clean your room…”

“And lets face it, what parent doesn't?” said Aunt Hermione, grinning at Dad.

“But not to control the school,” said Dad. “Imagine the mess you'd make of it! If your room is anything to go by. Imperius won't fix that room; you'd need a hydrogen bomb for that job.”

They all laughed at that. James felt more relaxed and a little foolish that he'd believed Rita in the first place. He wanted to ask Aunt Hermione about the letters in her books but suddenly didn't feel up to it, in case it was personal and she took them back. Instead he put a stealth question to Dad.

“Rita is a horrible old bat,” said James. “What was she like when you met her?”

“Pretty much the same,” said Dad. “Turned the Triwizard Tournament into a blow-by-blow account of my struggles in it.”

“You were in the Triwizard Tournament?” asked Celesca, impressed. “At Hogwarts?”

“Yes, but that was a long time ago,” said Dad. “They stopped it after that. And a good thing too; far too dangerous.”

So, Dad had been in a Triwizard Tournament at school and Rita had reported on it? James's mind was already floating towards the library and a very narrow point of reference. They stayed in the Room of Requirement only long enough to finish their cakes before both Dad and Aunt Hermione announced they had families to get home to. They walked back together to Gryffindor Tower.

“Well, I hope now we've cleared all this up,” said Dad, as they stood at the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Tell Albus not to worry, that all this is just another of Rita's fairy tales.”

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” James asked.

“How very polite,” beamed Aunt Hermione. She turned to Celesca. “It was very nice to meet you, Celesca. We've been hearing good things about you at the Ministry. You're on the `One to Watch' list. Goodbye, though I don't think this will be the last we see of each other.”

She looked at James pointedly and Celesca blushed her deepest crimson. She said goodbye, told James she'd meet him later and climbed through the portrait hole.

“She's lovely,” said Aunt Hermione as the three of them walked downstairs.

“She reminds me of you at that age,” said Dad. “So bright and inquisitive. You haven't had any illegitimate children, have you?”

“Not that I know of,” said Aunt Hermione. “Though I agree she's like me. It's like having mini versions of ourselves running around Hogwarts again.”

James's mind went into overdrive at this thought. He was sure that both she and Dad had been looking at Celesca and himself because they could tell there was a deeper than friends relationship going on there. That was the meaning, he thought, behind their strange looks. Now they were comparing it to themselves. This was mightily odd and James couldn't get Rita's words out of his head. They parted in the Entrance Hall but instead of returning to Gryffindor Tower, James headed for the library.

There were only a few students mulling around when he arrived. He headed straight for his familiar place near the archives and began pulling them down. He soon realised that he didn't know when the Triwizard Tournament had actually been at Hogwarts, but James's luck was in.

“Working late?” said a voice behind him. “You're not like your father at all.”

“Evening, Professor Longbottom,” said James.

“What are you looking at there?” he asked. “Old newspapers?”

“Yeah, someone said my Dad was in some sort of tournament when he was here but I can't find anything about it,” said James.

“Ah, that'll be the Triwizard,” said Professor Longbottom. “Nasty affair. Poor Cedric Diggory.”

James didn't know who Cedric Diggory was and, frankly, he didn't care.

“You were here, weren't you, sir?” said James. “Can you remember what year it was?”

“Of course,” said Professor Longbottom. “It was our Fourth year. I remember it well. Anyway, enough chat. I've got some mandrakes to sing lullabies to. Goodnight, James.”

“'Night, sir,” said James. He waited until Professor Longbottom was gone before grabbing the stack and pulling out all the ones dated from his father's fourth year. He quickly found what he was looking for, or at least that's how it looked at first. There were several articles concerning the attempts of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and the Department of International Magical Cooperation to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, along with descriptions of some of the past tasks and worst injuries sustained. Then there was one which surprised James greatly; it was a photo of the chosen school champions at a wand-weighing ceremony and there was Dad, right next to Auntie Fleur, looking as gorgeous as ever.

“She was in this tournament?” James said to himself. “This is getting weirder and weirder.”

It didn't improve, either. The photo, which James still kept chancing glances at towards a young Auntie Fleur, who looked seductively back and smiled serenely, turned out to be the last instalment until one announcing the end and the tragic death of the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory. His death was strangely added as an afterthought to the article which instead focused on apparently bizarre rants made by Dad, though the content of these was unspecified. The other articles were missing.

James was now utterly bewildered. Rita had claimed she'd written stories about Dad and Aunt Hermione, they had just now confirmed this and given a time when these stories came out, yet here was James looking at a clutch of missing dates. Without any doubt, these items had been removed. They only questions were who had moved them and why. James got up turned and ran towards the door. He turned around a shelf of books and ran right into Celesca, knocking her and a book she was carrying over. The sheaves of parchment in the back scattered over the floor.

“You're in a hurry,” she said, half-laughing. “I had a feeling you'd be here so I brought you your aunt's old Hogwarts: A History. I wasn't sure how much you knew about it but there's quite a good piece in there.”

“Let's pick this stuff up,” said James. They began collecting the sheets from the floor. “I found out when the tournament was held here. I've even looked through Rita's articles from the time. There's some stuff about it but a whole load is missing. Someone took them - they're gone.”

“I think I've found them,” said Celesca, her voice quiet and haunting.

“Pardon?”

“Look,” said Celesca. She held up a number of newspaper cuttings, one of which showed a picture of Dad and Aunt Hermione hugging tightly. “They're all about the Triwizard at Hogwarts. Here.”

She handed them to James. “Why would Aunt Hermione keep these cuttings in her books? I hardly want to read them. What am I going to find?”

“I'll leave you alone, they could be private,” said Celesca, getting to her feet.

“No, Celesca, please stay,” said James. “If it's not good I'd like you to be here with me.”

He offered her his hand. She took it and sat at his side. They both looked down at the list of articles and James felt glad Celesca was there to help him face whatever he was about to find out.

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