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Author: Caleb Nova Story: That Terrifying Momentum Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 267,976
It was just past noon and Lila had spent the previous day stocking food for the rest of Scott's stay. The refrigerator was full of goods, and her brother was handling the decorations. So with nothing better to do, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror contentedly brushing her hair. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend her time, but there was a ritualistic satisfaction to the act. From the bathroom Lila could hear Scott singing to himself as he decorated the tree in the living room. He had reassumed his teenage form and everything that went with it. His voice reverberated about the flat as he gave vent with a cheerful abandon. "You're a douchebag, Mr. Grinch! You reeeaaaally aaaaaare a whore! You're an ugly, green, fat sack of crap, you're deluded and a bore, Mr. Griiii-inch!" She rolled her eyes at his antics, even though he couldn't see her. "I'm pretty sure those aren't the words," she called to him. Scott ignored her and continued his mangled recitation. "I've got just three words for you, and they are.... You. Really. Suuuuuuuuuuuuck!" "Bravo," Lila muttered. She set her brush down and put her hair back into its usual ponytail. More loudly, she asked Scott, "Did you try those brownies I made?" "Brownies?" She lowered one eyebrow quizzically. He couldn't have forgotten about the brownies. "I made them this morning, remember?" "No. I was asleep this morning." "They're on the counter." There was a deep thump as Scott jumped off of the foot ladder he had been using. "I thought I smelled something." By mid-afternoon the flat was bedecked with holiday cheer in the form of ornaments. Their collection of baubles had been amassed over the Christmases of many years and now encompassed a wide variety. The colour scheme of the room was now overwhelmingly skewed towards green, red and gold. Some soft music would have completed the scene. Instead there was a different sort of sound drifting through the apartment. Lila rolled her eyes at the all too familiar sight of Scott moaning on the couch. "I told you not to eat that fifth brownie." "No you didn't," Scott groaned. "I so did." "This is all your fault for making them so deceptively moderate," Scott accused her. Lila just looked at him. "Deceptively moderate?" "You know, portion-wise. They don't look that big but they're so heavy!" Scott said piteously. "I'm telling you, those things are about four times denser than iridium. I've got a lead brick in my stomach. They didn't even float for a second or two before settling. They sank like the Bismark." "Maybe you'll recall this little incident the next time you get the urge to stuff your face," Lila said heartlessly, "and the Bismark didn't sink quickly." "I know," Scott sighed though it came out more like a gurgle, "but I'm in pain, and it was all I could think of." A rapping at the window interrupted Lila's forthcoming response. She turned away from Scott and cautiously approached it, readying herself for any possible attack. Most people would have considered that overly paranoid, but with her career being what it was, she didn't think a high degree of caution was ever unjustified. Instead of an adversary waiting for a clear shot, there was a tiny owl perched on the windowsill. Lila stood very still, not wanting to startle it. "Scott." "What?" "Let it in." Lila unlocked the window and slid it open. The bird fluttered wildly into the room with movements more suited to a hummingbird. It settled on the back of the sofa, still twitching excitedly. Then, as if remembering itself, it dropped the letter it carried on top of Scott's reclined form. "You open it," Scott mumbled, his eyes closed. Lila nearly rejected the order, but curiosity won out over pride. She picked up the letter and slid one fingernail through the top of it. "Am I supposed to pay the owl?" The owl hooted as if it considered that an excellent idea. "I'm unable to open my eyes, but I'm pretty sure it's just Pig so, no," Scott said. "That's Ron's owl." "Sorry, buddy," Lila said to the owl as she opened the folded letter, "but I can't imagine what you'd do with the cash anyway." The owl hooted regretfully. The letter was penned in such a messy scrawl that she immediately discounted the possibility that it might have come from Molly. A quick skip down to the bottom confirmed Ron's signature. "It's for you," she told Scott, "as if that's a surprise." "I like surprises," Scott said absurdly. "Are you going to move, or do I have to read this to you?" "Read, please." "'Scott'," Lila began, "'How are you doing? I hope the answer is "not that great," because my ear still hurts.'" "Lousy poetic justice," Scott grumbled. "'Just kidding you, mate. I'm sure you're fine, even if my ear isn't. Anyway, my mum said I was supposed to invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve. I know that's today but I forgot to ask you sooner. Lila's supposed to come too. If you'd like to come, you can send a reply back with Pig. Or you could just show up. It's not much of a walk. Writing because my mum told me to, Ron. P.S – Harry says not to bring your gun. Remus is here, and he'd probably know what it is.'" Lila looked up from the paper. "That's it." "Cool. We'll go as soon as I can move." "You're pathetic." Lila tossed the letter and envelope on top of Scott and walked off towards her bedroom. "I'm leaving now." "Wait – wait!" The springs in the couch squeaked as Scott rolled around. "Look, I'm getting up. Hey, you can go back now," he said to the owl. "We're going." The tiny creature gave an eager, affirmative hoot and sped back out through the window. The walk to the Burrow wasn't unpleasant. The weather had improved, and the cold was mitigated somewhat by a bright sun set in a pale blue winter sky. The light reflecting off the snow was blinding, and everyone they passed on the street squinted against the glare. Lila, like Scott, was unaffected. The career of a Kharadjai brought with it some ocular bonuses. Scott was still moaning and waddling along behind her holding his stomach. She ignored him. His capacity for pain guaranteed that he wasn't suffering all that much, and he had always been prone to exaggeration. She would have bet good money that he maintained his act for no other reason than to annoy her. This theory gained substantial credibility when his malady conveniently vanished as they drew close to the Burrow. "See, there are some protections on the path," Scott said as they walked up to the house. With a little concentration, Lila was able to discern the spells he was talking about. "We just can't tell what they do, that's all." She grimaced as she admitted, "I must not have felt them last time." Either Scott was feeling gracious or he was simply preoccupied because he neglected to comment on her oversight. "Ready to mingle?" he asked her. They stood in front of the door hearing the muffled voices of a number of people inside. "As always." Scott reached over and knocked on the door. ***---~**~---*** It was Christmas Eve at the Weasley residence, which lent a festive atmosphere to the house. Most of the Burrow's occupants were either in the living room or their respective bedrooms. Mrs. Weasley was preparing for supper and had chased everyone out of the kitchen area. With the tantalising smells of cooking food wafting through the house, there wasn't much else to do but sit around and impatiently wait to eat. Pig had just returned from Scott's home without a written response, which probably meant Scott was already on his way. At least Ron certainly hoped so because that was what he had told his mum. "Your turn," Harry said. Ron's attention snapped back to the game of chess they were engaged in. Lupin was assisting Harry as best he could, but Ron's friend was still fighting a losing battle. Ron had to admire his tenacity; Harry had been repeatedly beaten at chess for years and yet continued to accept Ron's challenges and the humiliation that followed. He wasn't sure whether that was a form of selfless friendship or masochism, both of which Harry was prone to. He studied the board for a moment before making his move. Harry knew his situation was worsening and looked beseechingly to Lupin, who silently shook his head. Sighing, Harry reached down to move one of his pieces when he paused in mid-action. "Was that the door?" "Nice try, Harry," Ron said, smirking at him. "You've got to make a move eventually." "No, I'm serious." Sure enough, the sound of a knock at the door could be easily heard now that Ron was listening for it. "Mum will get it," Ron said, not standing up. "Can someone get that for me, please?" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the kitchen. "Alright, I'll get it," Ron amended. "It's probably Scott," Harry said following Ron to the door. Sure enough, opening the door revealed Scott and his older sister standing outside in the snow. "A very merry Christmas Eve to you," Scott addressed them flamboyantly. "We heard there was food here. Either give it to me or get out of my way." Lila casually raised her right arm and swiped Scott across the side of his head with considerable force. He squawked and fell off the walk into the snow. "Hello, Ron, Harry. What my brother meant to say is thanks for inviting us over." "No problem," Ron said, grinning as he watched Scott flounder to his feet. "Here, come on in." Ron showed the two of them where to put their coats after which Lila was diverted into a conversation with Mum that didn't seem likely to end anytime soon, so he led Scott into the living room. Lupin looked up from where he was sitting, taking in Scott's unfamiliar appearance. "You didn't bring the--" Harry started to say lowly to Scott. "No," Scott interrupted. "Good." Raising his voice, Harry made introductions. "Remus, this is Scott Kharan." Lupin rose to his feet and shook Scott's hand with a small smile. "Remus Lupin. I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard a great deal about you." Scott returned the handshake. "And I know a great deal about you! Learned from afar, of course, and sometimes vicariously. I hope Tonks wasn't too hard on me." "She was never anything but complimentary," Lupin chuckled, but he gave Scott an odd look after he did so. It took Ron a moment to realise why. Not only had Scott's first response been strangely unfitting, but his second implied that he knew Tonks and Lupin were well acquainted. Ron couldn't recall ever mentioning it, but perhaps Harry had at some point. "Nice digs." Scott looked around the Burrow with interest. "Where's your room, Ron?" "It's upstairs if you want to see it. Not much to look at, really," Ron said, shrugging. "Well shit, give me the tour anyway. I want dinner and a show." Ron and Harry simultaneously winced at the expletive. Fortunately Lupin said nothing, though his eyebrows rose slightly. "This way." Ron gestured towards the stairs. Once they were above the first floor, he said, "You know not to talk like that around my mum, right?" Scott shrugged. "Yeah, it's cool. Lupin looked like the kind of guy who wouldn't care." "Don't guess next time. Ask me first," Ron told him. "If you keep letting shits loose like that you'll get us all in trouble. Especially me." "Duly noted." "Just talk the same way you would talk around Dumbledore," Ron said. Harry and Scott exchanged a look at that. "No, that's a bad idea," Harry said. "Talk like you would around McGonagall." Scott nodded. "Yes, ma'am." They were going past the second floor when the door to the twins' room opened up behind them. Ron was sure his brothers were going to accost Scott. Sure enough, the twins converged on the Kharadjai, looking him over. "So this is the infamous Scott?" Fred said, appearing unimpressed. "I thought he'd be taller," George commented. "Ten foot at least." "Ten and a half with shoes." "Shakes the earth with his footsteps, he does." "Like a bleedin' titan." "Too true." "So really, this couldn't be him then…" "Can't be. Not a chance." "It may come as a disappointment," Scott said, expressionless, "but this body is only a vessel. It's a necessary diminishing – my true form is pure energy, and you would be blinded by my glory." "Doesn't think much of himself, does he?" George said. Fred shook his head sadly. "Seems that getting invited to spend Christmas Eve with the Boy Who Lived has gone right to his head." "Hey, I gotta find something to make a name for myself," Scott said, shrugging. "We can't all own a joke shop and sell cheap crap for a living." "Cheap crap?" Fred echoed, looking highly offended. "A low blow," George said. "Below the belt, I'd say." "And completely untrue!" "Totally without merit," George agreed. "Who would tell him such lies?" "It's Ronald," Fred said, looking down his nose at Ron. "He's poisoned his friends against us." The twins would never show it, but Ron could tell they were impressed by Scott's caustic brand of bravado. It was probably for the best that Scott wouldn't be spending that much time with them as there was no telling what kind of trouble the twins could cause with a Kharadjai on their side. "Live and learn," Scott said. "I thought your products were shit for dumb tourists, and you thought I shook the earth. Because you thought I was fat, I guess." "But Americans are supposed to be fat," Fred pointed out. "About 300 pounds apiece, isn't it?" "I'm only 290. Don't hate us because we're rich and know how to eat like it." "We could never hate so delightful a person as yourself," George said condescendingly, but he grinned anyway. "I'm Fred, and he's George," Fred told Scott, and then the twins properly shook both his hands as if their exchange of words had been a formal duel. And for them, maybe it was. "Charmed, of course," Scott drawled. "I'm Scott Kharan, student and Chosen-One-friend extraordinaire." That earned him a swift elbow in the side from Harry. "An indescribable joy to meet you," Fred said glibly. "I imagine we'll see you around sometime." "He's eating dinner here tonight," George noted. Fred's eyebrows rose slightly as if he hadn't known that and was now mildly surprised. "Then I suppose we'll be seeing you sooner than 'sometime'." The twins continued on their way downstairs, and Ron resumed his guided tour. "That's obviously the twins' room," he said. He purposefully made no mention of Percy's room, saying, "Ginny's room is the next one up." "Yes, I'm sure Harry could have told me that," Scott said blandly. Ron knew as well as anyone how maddening Scott could be, but in this particular instance, he agreed wholeheartedly with the Kharadjai's reasoning. Harry needed to get off his arse and do something about Ginny. That's what Ron had finally done with Hermione, so Harry couldn't even use Ron's own situation as an excuse anymore. Ginny emerged from her room no sooner than Scott had shut his mouth. "Oh, Scott!" she said, sounding surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here... though I guess I should have." "I came to see you," Scott told her, smiling widely. "How about a Christmas hug? I've been good this year." "You wish," Ginny scoffed. "We all know that's not true." "Are you suggesting that I'm not a model citizen?" "I'm saying you're a stuck up git." "Okay, how about you hug Harry in my place, then? He can be my surrogate. He might even sort of look like me if you turned your head and squinted, and were drunk, and had got stung in both eyes by a bee." Maybe it was Ron's imagination, but he thought Ginny's cheeks pinked slightly. "If you wanted a laugh at someone's expense, you should have invited Hermione over," she said coldly. "She'll put up with your shite, but I won't, so sod off." Scott laughed loudly as if Ginny had shared an excellent joke. "Oh, man! I love you, you know that? I really do." "Whatever," Ginny said, brushing past him. "See you at dinner, Harry." "Dude," Scott said to Harry as soon as Ginny had gone down the stairs, "she totally wants you." "Shut it, Scott," Harry muttered. At that point Ron had to agree. Scott had done enough damage for the day. They reached the fifth landing, and Ron led Scott through the doorway into his bedroom. "This is my room. You'll have to excuse the state of it." "Already done," Scott said magnanimously. He walked over to the window and looked down into the yard. "Nothing like a room with a view." Ron heard Harry shut the door behind him. Scott sighed and slowly turned around, leaning back against the windowsill. Ron stepped aside as Harry advanced on Scott. "You already knew Remus," Harry said, and it wasn't a question. "Yes." "How? Why?" "Which is it, how or why?" "If it was something important, you should have told me," Harry said sharply, jabbing an accusing finger at Scott. "It wasn't anything important." Scott crossed his arms defensively. "It's part of my job to contact all the Primes. You know that." "But why didn't you tell me he was a Prime?" Harry demanded, voice rising. "Didn't you think that was important?" "He's low Priority. What is this, calculus to you?" Scott asked derisively. "He's an old friend of your father, he's been a big part of your life, and he's on your team. The math is uncomplicated and the conclusions obvious. It's not my fault if you can't draw them." Ron almost had to admire how Scott's vitriolic nature remained undiluted in the face of Harry's anger. He didn't though because it only made things worse. Hermione and Ron were generally able to maintain a reasonably calm exterior when Harry began to boil over for one reason or another, but Scott didn't even try. Harry glared at Scott. "Oh, so it's my fault that you won't open your damned mouth when I need to know something-" "Don't start with that shit again, I've told you lots of stuff--" "Yeah, when you think it doesn't matter anymore! Or when I find out about it on my own and confront you with it--" "You want me to write a goddamn novel for you? Because that's what it would take to explain everything. Here, I'll go grab my pipe and smoking jacket, sit down in a big easy chair, and get banging on my typewriter. I'll have a little treatise ready for you in no time, should only be a few million words--" "I just want the truth," Harry snarled. "A tall order from a short kid," Scott shot back with equal bite. "You don't want the truth; you want me to check in with you every time I take a shit. Well here's a clue for you, son – I don't even write my reports for the goddamn Council, and they pay me. So what the hell makes you think I'm gonna give you minute to minute updates on crap that's got nothing to do with your Priority One ass." Ron looked back and forth between the two of them. Their fight was rapidly getting out of control. He hoped that they wouldn't start screaming. He raised a tentative hand towards his two friends. "Hey, look--" "Shut up, Ron!" they said simultaneously. That was uncalled for. Ron sat down on the foot of his bed, now also angered. Fine. If they wanted to kill each other, then they could just go ahead. Harry took a deep breath, his face pale. "This isn't about me. I mean, I don't care if it's not about me," he said, obviously trying to be calm but sounding far from it. "Remus is my friend. All I want to know is why you went to see him." Scott leaned against the window again. "Maybe that's between me and him." "Not if he doesn't know about it, it isn't." Scott shrugged elaborately. "Then I guess it's just between me." The two glared at each other for a few more seconds before Harry turned and left the room without another word. As soon as he was gone, the look on Scott's face changed to an emotion that Ron recognised, having felt it himself from time to time: defiance tempered by regret. Scott grumbled a wide variety of obscenities under his breath. He took an angry swipe at the miniature Quaffle on Ron's dresser, knocking it across the room. Ron said nothing, knowing that any intrusion would probably only serve to spark Scott's ire again. There wasn't much to do but wait for him to cool off. After a few minutes of silent fuming, Scott slumped onto Harry's bed and rubbed at his eyes. Ron gauged the mood to have mellowed enough for for a word or two. "…So, why didn't you tell him?" "I didn't even think of it," Scott admitted. "It was just some stupid love buggery." "It was what?" "Love buggery. Relationship manipulations – more specifically the alteration of romantic aspects. People who specialise in that are called 'love bugs'. My sister's the only person I can think of who considers it a compliment." Understanding came to Ron. "You must've got Remus and Tonks together." "Yeah." "Quick job?" "Yeah." "Can't really blame you for forgetting a small thing like that," Ron said diplomatically. "It just wasn't very high on my list of things to talk about." They both looked up when someone rapped on the doorframe. It was Lila, her clothing dusted with a fair amount of flour. "Time to eat," she said. Dinner proved to be tolerable for Ron despite the glacial silence between his two friends. This was due mostly to Mum's cooking, which kept everyone busy and content. Not that anyone missed the fact that Harry and Scott never exchanged a single word over the course of the meal, but there were enough people around the table that the conversation kept moving in spite of that. Lila caught Scott's eye at one point and gave him a look that said a volume of things, all of them harsh. Clearly she knew that he had done something, even if she didn't know what. She attempted to rectify that as soon as the Weasleys and their guests had finished their repast. Most of the household drifted back towards the living room for an evening of postprandial relaxation though Ron remained at the table toying with the last of his turkey. He heard Lila corner Scott near the front door. "Now what did you do?" she asked him with a resigned air. "What do you mean, now?" Scott bit out as his anger flared again. "Quit pretending like you have some longsuffering history involving me pissing Harry off." "The rest of my longsuffering history when it comes to you more than compensates for that lack," Lila said acidly. "Oh poor Lila, boo-boo-fuckity-hoo," Scott sneered, mocking her. "Do I need to call the waaaaambulance?" "I'm not the one who's trying to mask self-pity with rage," Lila told him, her eyes flashing. "Whatever you did – fix it." She stalked off towards the kitchen, leaving Scott to glare after her. "Not having much luck today, are you?" Ron said after she had left. Scott whirled towards Ron as if he was going to snap at him too, but then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "You wanna go outside for a bit? I need to go outside." "Alright, I guess." The world was still when they stepped out the front door, only the faintest of breezes stirring the dead air. The top half of the sun glowed low in the horizon without any clouds to threaten its supremacy, but it was a feeble presence in December, lacking real warmth or power. Ron tucked his hands into his coat pockets and took a deep breath, letting the sharp cold burn the back of his throat. It was the calmer days like this which reminded that winter wasn't the death of life, only its sleep. Scott morosely looked out across the expanse of yard and muttered, "Old grass, dead leaves, beside young birds, new trees, "Nickels and pennies to catch a wish trapped in the well. "As if our hearts ever lead us where our eyes couldn't tell." Ron already had enough of a struggle when it came to understanding the finer points of literature; he didn't feel much like attempting to decipher Scott's incoherent musings, especially on a holiday, and most especially when he wasn't going to be graded for it. But it would be callous not to respond in the face of Scott's low mental state, so he said, "And what does that mean?" Scott raised his head up, emerging from his thoughts. "It means we spend a lot of time trying to buy answers when what we really need is to look around. Clarity is something that happens, not something you make." He spread his arms, indicating the scene before them. "I feel better already." "You know what, Scott?" Ron said amiably. "I really don't understand you at all." "That's okay, I don't either. I try to exist on the thin edge between impulse and denial. Try spending a day without second guessing yourself sometime." "If I did that, there'd be a lot of Slytherins who'd get punched in the gob," Ron said, grinning. "But you know that about yourself – and that's important." Both of them stood silent after that. The wind picked up slightly for a moment, and the lull in the conversation was filled with the dry rattle of empty branches and the hiss of loose snow. "What's it like to always have a purpose?" Ron asked suddenly. "In what way?" Ron tried to express his inner curiosities. "I mean you always know what you have to do 'cause they give you these missions. And it's not just a job; it's your life too." "So you mean I never have to wonder who I am, or more specifically, what's the point of me? What am I supposed to be?" Scott said, cutting to the heart of the question. "Yeah, something like that." "I'm sure that sounds very appealing," Scott told him, "and, yeah, it is in a lot of ways. But don't make the mistake of believing that a state of mind can ever be concrete. You'll always doubt yourself in some capacity. Like, in my case, I might wonder whether I chose this job, or did it choose me? It's easy to say that my being a field agent like this is the clear result of my choices, my choice to pursue the training, my choice to accept promotions and so on, but is it really? Or was I just as driven by the shape of things as Harry has been?" Ron blinked. "Were you?" "I don't know, and that bothers me sometimes." "Wait a sec..." Ron said, giving Scott a sceptical look. "Hermione was telling me you gave her a whole bloody speech about how everybody is always being made to do things, and that's normal or whatever." Scott actually looked embarrassed. "Yeah, but what I meant was that…. Well, first you have to understand the difference between destiny and influence. Influence was what I was talking about with her. Destiny is immutable and stuff. There's only so much you can do within the confines. Besides, I said it was not knowing which it was that bothered me. If I just straight up knew it was destiny or not, that would settle the question." Ron wasn't buying it. "So it wouldn't bother you at all, then, to know you didn't earn your job." "But I did earn it, even if it was destiny! I still put in all the work, all the years. You see? Just because someone else set you on the path doesn't mean you don't still have to walk it." Ron could sort of understand what he was getting at, but there was still some contradiction. "I think what you know doesn't always match up with what you feel," he told Scott. "Yeah, you're right," Scott sighed. "I was being kind of insensitive when I was talking to Hermione. These really are two different subjects, but I admit I'm not perfectly comfortable with fate. Mostly comfortable, but not perfectly. Naturally, it's always easier to deal with when it's happening to somebody else." "I just asked because I've always felt a little, uh… lost, I guess. Especially lately," Ron said, returning back to the root of their conversation. "How so?" "It's Harry's job to be the brave one.... He's the leader and the fighter, and, yeah, he's sometimes scary when he's all focused, but that's just what he does. And then it's Hermione's job to be the smart one, to know all the answers when we need them the most and whatnot. So then I think, what's my job? Making dumb comments to break the tension?" Ron said self-deprecatingly, and shrugged. "Seems like I can't figure out what I'm supposed to be doing other than following them around and casting whatever spells I can think of when something bad happens." "It's not a question of location, it's a question of aspiration," Scott stated cryptically. "I don't get it." "If you want to get somewhere, you have to know where it is. If you want to hit the centre, you have to pick a target. If you want to be something more than a sidekick to Harry and Hermione..." Scott trailed off. Ron mentally concluded the sentence. "But I don't know what they need me to be." Scott shrugged. "That doesn't matter if they want you to be something you're not. Are they what you think they should be?" "It doesn't matter what I think," Ron said immediately, and then felt like an idiot for falling right into that one. "Exactly. You are who you are – except you say you're not anyone, so then you are who you can possibly be." Ron's head was starting to hurt. "Uh, alright…" "Who you need to be depends on where you're going," Scott tried to explain. "Everybody is shaped by circumstance. My job has made me who I am; so what do you want to do right now?" "To get rid of You-Know-Who," Ron answered without hesitation. "To finish all of this so we can actually relax for once." "And what needs to happen for you to get there?" "That's the thing we don't know," Ron said. He and his friends were embroiled in a war that nobody seemed to know how to fight. "We're just making it up as we go along." "Sure, everybody is fumbling towards the finish line. But what's the most important thing right now?" Ron's mind was blank for a moment. What was the most important thing? "To make sure that mad bastard doesn't kill Harry," he finally answered, "or anyone else." "Focus gives you strength. Of course, it's important to maintain the difference between focus and tunnel vision, but that's another lesson entirely," Scott said. "You know what you have to do, and it's what you've been doing all along." "So what you're saying is, I shouldn't have wasted your time," Ron said wryly. "Self-reflection is rarely a waste of time," Scott noted, and then he sighed. "Let's go back in. I need to talk to Harry." "Are you going to apologise?" "We don't have to apologise," Scott scoffed. "We're men. We'll just punch each other in the shoulder a few times, and it will all be water under the bridge." ***---~**~---*** The moon was high in the night sky by the time Scott and Lila arrived back at their apartment. They hung up their coats, and Scott drifted towards the couch. Neither of them turned on the lights in the flat – the darkness was illuminated by the various Christmas lights that sparkled about the room. Scott watched from the couch while Lila removed her shoes. "You still mad at me?" "Scott, if I stayed mad at you every time you did something like that, I'd never have room for any other emotions," Lila said tiredly. "So yes, then." "No. What did you fight with Harry about?" "Information, as usual." Scott slumped lower into the couch and put an arm over his eyes. "I'm not surprised, but that does remind me of something I need to ask you." Lila poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat at the table. "About what?" "A long standing curiosity. You never did tell me what happened during your first meeting with Dumbledore." "Oh, yeah… Never came up, I guess." "Let's hear it." "What, now? It's late." "So?" Scott groaned, leaning over until he was lying on the couch. "Why do you care?" "Because I want to know what happened, that's why," Lila said relentlessly. "Give it up, or I'll make you talk." "What are you gonna do, make me eat some more of those brownies?" "Just tell me what happened!" Lila demanded. It never took her long to lose her patience with him. "Fine," Scott sighed. "Alright. This is the prequel to the office meeting so the chronology is still mixed for you, but that's alright. You can rearrange things in your head, and a little backwards syntax never hurt anybody…"
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