Flynn didn’t know if anyone ate after that, but dinner ended not long after, with the teachers calling for every student from their house to be escorted back to their common rooms. Flynn stayed seated as the rest of the Slytherins around him stood up and left, keeping his eyes fixed on Dumbledore even as Snape glared a silent threat at him, and a blob of blonde hair almost escaped from the Hufflepuff group before she was ushered back in by Sprout.

  Dumbledore met his glare with a gentle smile, and beckoned him over along with Harry and Ron.

  “Let us be off, unless you have any other business to attend to,” Dumbledore said, smiling as if he had just told a joke.

  None of three showed any reaction other than to scowl, or simply keep their faces neutral, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind as he walked towards a small side door to the Hall, rather than the main entrance, trusting the three to follow.

  Once Dumbledore led them into his office, Flynn glanced around the admittedly impressive room, and noticed that Harry and Ron did the same, with the latter more visibly awestruck than the former. Flynn tried not to be distracted by the various knicknacks in the room, but before he could refocus his glare onto Dumbledore, he couldn’t help but notice the small chicken in the center of the room, sitting on a bed of hot coals and looking completely unbothered by the fact.

  It let out a quiet trill as it blinked at him, and Flynn gave it one final glare before turning to Dumbledore.

  “The monster’s a snake,” he said.

  Infuriatingly, Dumbledore simply smiled with the same patronising expression that he’d had in the Great Hall.

  “Oh?” he said, in a way that Flynn might have been tempted to call grandfatherly, if he had one to compare him to. “Is it now?”

  “Probably,” Flynn growled, gritting his teeth as he tried not to fall into the same baseless argument that he’d given to Snape. “These idiots probably know more about it,” he said, instead.

  But when he turned back to Harry and Ron, his stomach dropped when he saw the look of confusion on their faces.

  “What?” Ron asked. “Why would we know anything about that?”

  “Because your idiot friend got herself petrified because she got too close to the answer,” Flynn said, keeping his voice flat in an attempt to keep any hints of desperation from creeping in.

  Flynn blinked in surprise when Ron glared at him and stomped forward with a fist raised threateningly, before he was raised gently into the air by an invisible force.

  “You take that back!” he roared, seemingly uncaring that he was being held aloft, and swinging his fist uselessly towards Flynn’s head.

  “Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said placatingly, as he kept a finger trained on the boy. “I would ask that you refrain from violence in my office. Fawkes in his juvenile stages once again, and I’d rather him not learn any violent habits during this stage of development. I’m afraid that is usually quite impressionable at this part of his life, regardless of how many times he has gone through it.”

  The chicken let out a squawk, as if in protest.

  “And as for you, Mr. Fredericton,” Dumbledore said, with a sad smile. “I understand that it was likely not your intention, but please refrain from aggravating your peers. We are here for a constructive and friendly discussion today, are we not?”

  “I didn’t need your help,” Flynn growled, glaring up at Ron. “I had it covered.”

  “I’m sure you did, Mr. Fredericton,” Dumbledore said. “But not in a way that I would find acceptable in my school.”

  “Why should I care what you find acceptable, when you don’t care enough about the school to save it?” Flynn asked.

  Dumbledore sighed, and lowered his finger, letting Ron gently back onto the ground. Flynn glared at Ron, daring him to try again, but the smaller boy simply glared back at him, his face a colour and shade similar to his hair.

  “Hermione’s not an idiot,” he growled.

  “She is in fact, one of the most brilliant talents this school has ever seen,” Dumbledore agreed. “And one of the most curious as well. I’m glad to see that she has enough love for this school to dedicate her free time to figuring out the mystery behind the castle’s attacks.”

  “She knew something,” Flynn said, sensing a familiar argument approaching. “She was desperate. She barely had time to talk to Pince before she started running through the library.”

  “You were there?!” Ron shouted angrily. “You-”

  “Were being watched the entire time, by Madam Pince, weren't you, Mr.Fredericton?” Dumbledore finished, on his behalf.

  It took Flynn a surprisingly long time to realise why, but before he could tell Ron exactly what he felt about the interrupted accusation, Dumbledore raised both of his hands, calling silently for quiet.

  “Mr. Fredericton,” he said. “If you would allow me to speak. I know that you do not trust me - on that you’ve made your opinion quite clear to the entire student body - but I would hope that you would allow me the opportunity to explain myself.”

  Flynn didn’t want to, but he knew that they would get nowhere if he didn’t allow Dumbledore the chance.

  “Fine,” he spat out. “You’ve got ten seconds,” he added, out of nothing but spite.

  Dumbledore chuckled. “Well, it is a rather long story, but I suppose I could summarise it,” he said, shaking his head. “You see, Mr. Fredericton. This is not the first time that a series of students have been paralysed in this castle. A similar string of events occurred many years ago.”

  Flynn’s eyes narrowed at Dumbledore’s words, but what drew his attention even more than the claim itself was the lack of reaction from the idiots standing a few feet away from him.

  “Alright then,” Flynn said. “The school’s still open, so you solved it back then, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Indeed,” Dumbledore said, sadly for some reason. “Hogwarts was in danger of shutting down completely, but a culprit was found. Once he was expelled from the school, no such attacks occurred ever again. Until now.”

  Flynn narrowed his eyes. “So you know the fucker that was doing it?!” he hissed, glaring at Dumbledore for a moment, before he realised the specific wording that Dumbledore had used. “He was just expelled? Not even arrested?”

  Dumbledore’s silence was deafening, as well as the wide-eyed nervous stares from Ron and Harry.

  “You stupid motherfuckers!” Flynn roared, unable to hold himself back.

  “I had believed him to be innocent,” Dumbledore said sadly. “And to be quite frank, I still do.”

  Still do? “Is that son of a bitch here?!” Flynn shouted, unable to believe the conclusion he’d come to. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

  Dumbledore gave him another sad smile and opened his mouth to say something.

  “Hagrid didn’t do it,” Harry said, before Dumbledore could.

  Flynn froze, staring wide-eyed at Harry for what he was suggesting.

  “Ah, he told you, then?” Dumbledore asked.

  “Hagrid would never hurt anyone, sir,” Harry repeated. “He’s one of the kindest people I know.”

  “I am well aware, Harry,” Dumbledore said, though the frown on his lips and the shake of his head seemed to disagree. “I do not think that Hagrid would ever wish harm upon another.”

  “That and he can’t talk to snakes,” Harry said.

  Dumbledore paused, staring blankly at Harry, though the boy didn’t seem to notice.

  “I beg your pardon?” the old man asked.

  “I can talk to snakes,” Harry repeated, as if he didn’t realise how insane that made him sound. And with that apparently not being good enough, his eyes widened as he repeated it a third time. “I can talk to snakes! Ron, do you think?”

  Flynn was tempted to answer on the other boy’s behalf, but Ron’s eyes widened as they darted wildly between Flynn and Harry.

  “The voices!” Ron said. “You can talk to snakes! You can understand them too!”

  “The voice in the wall!” Harry shouted. “Hermione must have realised!”

  “That’s why she was reading! About snakes!” Ron replied.

  Thankfully, before Flynn was driven to grab the idiots and smash their heads together both to stop the insane exchange and simply because he really wanted to, Dumbledore coughed into his hand, drawing attention from the two boys immediately.

  “Professor!” Harry shouted, as if just remembering that he was in the room. “The monster! It’s a snake!”

  “Harry, please,” Dumbledore said, raising a hand in a silent request for calm. “Would you be so kind as to guide me through your thoughts? I’m afraid that your exchange with young Mr. Weasley, while delightfully energetic, was rather difficult to follow for an old man such as myself.”

  “Oh. Sorry, Professor,” Harry said, a heavy blush appearing on his face. “Well, you see…”

  Harry Potter was not a good storyteller. He tended to assume that his audience knew more than he’d told them, which led to Dumbledore interrupting him multiple times or Ron chiming in to add in some missed details, but eventually Harry was able to properly explain how he’d figured out that he was a parselmouth during the first and only meeting of Hogwarts’ duelling club, when he was able to speak to Malfoy’s conjured snake. While it had gone unnoticed after the chaos that Flynn had caused, he had brought it up in passing with his friends who let him know how unusual the ability was.

  While that in itself was enough to draw a dull headache out in Flynn, every single comment that followed threatened to crack his teeth, with how hard he was clenching his jaw. Having the ability to talk to snakes was one thing, and if Flynn was being forgiving, he might’ve understood why Harry wanted to hide the fact that he was hearing disembodied homicidal voices in fear of seeming crazy, but even if he wasn’t already feeling particularly sympathetic towards the boy, the story of the fucking diary would’ve eliminated any sympathy completely.

  “Are you fucking stupid?” Flynn asked. “A fucking diary injected its fucking thoughts into your brain and you didn’t think it was anything shady?”

  “It was showing me a memory!” Harry said indignantly. “I thought maybe diaries act like that here.”

  “Why the fuck would a fucking book invade your fucking mind?” Flynn asked.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know a lot of things. You’ve lived with Muggles too, didn’t you? I’m sure you’ve come across some stuff that you thought was weird about the Wizarding world.”

  “I’d expect it to fucking show me a movie, not put me in a coma so it could give me a fucking dream.”

  “I wasn’t in a coma,” Harry responded, though he frowned right afterwards. “I don’t think.”

  “Clearly,” Flynn responded.

  It took Harry a surprisingly short time to figure out what Flynn meant by that, but before he could shout back a response, Dumbledore raised his hand again.

  “Harry,” he said. “Does this diary still remain in your possession?”

  Immediately, Harry’s face blanched, and Flynn felt the urge to yell at him again.

  “Actually, sir,” Harry said. “I don’t. Someone stole it.”

  “From our dorm room,” Ron added quickly. “The whole place was practically torn up. Whoever stole it must’ve been some kind of nutter.”

  “That is certainly worrying,” Dumbledore said, frowning deeply. His gaze, though pointed forward, seemed to focus on nothing, as a whirlwind of thoughts seemed to swirl behind his eyes before they hardened suddenly. “But ultimately secondary to the threat that befalls the school as a whole. Boys, I will ask that you return to your dorm rooms. I will call your Heads of Houses to escort you back as soon as possible.”

  “But Professor!” Harry shouted. “We want to help!”

  “Yeah!” Ron said, with less enthusiasm at first, though his eyes hardened a second later and he slammed his fist into his palm with a meaty sounding slap. “We need to get back at that monster for hurting Hermione.”

  Dumbledore shook his head.

  “While your courage is appreciated, as well as your loyalty, I’m afraid that this matter is quite a delicate one.”

  “But Professor-”

  “Fear not, Harry,” Dumbledore said, raising a hand while smiling gently down at the boy. “While I am many things, I am not a parseltongue. I may end up requiring your assistance in the future, but I ask that you simply hold a little faith in me until the time comes that I may call upon you.”

  Harry’s face twisted up in a grimace, but eventually he nodded.

  Dumbledore smiled a gentle smile, his hardened eyes softening as he looked down at the boy.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Very well, then,” he said. “Now I believe that your Heads of Houses are waiting outside of my office and I’m sure you boys have had enough excitement for the day. I’ll ask the kitchens to make sure a nice cup of hot cocoa is waiting for each of you on your return to your rooms.”

  Ron’s eyes lit up at the promise, and though Harry didn’t seem to be too enthused at having his offer to help be shot down so kindly, he seemed to take the dismissal for what it was, nodding and walking towards the exit to the office.

  Waiting outside for them, as promised, were a pair of Professors who met them with a stern stare and a grimace, but with those being the default expressions of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Head of Houses respectively, it was difficult to tell how they were truly feeling.

  As soon as he saw him, Snape turned around and stalked off without a word, expecting Flynn to follow, and so he did.

  Neither of them spoke, until they were almost at the door to the Slytherin dorms.

  “Dumbledore is a powerful man,” Snape said. “I suggest you don’t make a habit of showing him such blatant disrespect.”

  Flynn shrugged.

  “It fucking worked, didn’t it?”

  Snape didn’t respond.

  When Flynn walked through the Slytherin common room, the whole house seemed to fall into murmured whispers at the sight of him, some of them giggling, while most seemed curious. Flynn ignored all of them as he made his way to his dorm room, causing Malfoy and his goons to scurry out immediately at the sight of him.

  “I heard you made quite a stir during dinner,” Blaise said at the sight of him, nursing a cup of hot cocoa in his hands. “Which you didn’t wake me for.”

  “I tried,” Flynn said.

  “I know,” Blaise said, waving the note that Flynn had left for him by his bedside. “Not very hard, mind you. I’m a rather light sleeper.”

  “I wasn’t going to open your curtains,” Flynn said, with a scowl.

  “And I appreciate that,” Blaise said. “You’re entirely the wrong gender to be sneaking into my sheets. I was just stating facts, I wasn’t complaining.”

  “Well, it sounded like you were,” Flynn said. “Try not to bitch so much.”

  Blaise shrugged in response, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth much more of a response than that.

  “Where’s my dinner then?” he asked, waving the note again. “You mentioned here that you would be bringing me some.”

  Flynn dug into his pockets and held out a whole chicken leg to Blaise.

  “Charming,” Blaise said, with a grimace. “Well, I hate to turn down your kindness, but I’m afraid that I’m not feeling all that hungry anymore.”

  Flynn grunted and shoved the chicken leg back in his pocket.

  The next day, the Slytherin house woke up to the announcement that classes were cancelled for the day, and that under no circumstances were students to leave their dorm rooms under risk of expulsion.

  While Flynn had been prepared to spend the entire day in his bed, a snide comment from Blaise comparing him to a child hiding under the covers was enough to get him to leave, if only to prove him wrong. It only took him a few minutes for him to regret it, but a smug look from Blaise, shot across the room, led to Flynn sitting down with a stark determination not to get up for any reason.

  Though the announcement that classes were cancelled had come with a reminder that final exams were upcoming so students were reminded to use the period for self-study and NOT for idle loafing, aside from the fifth and seventh years, who were stressing about their OWLs and NEWTs respectively, a majority of the common room was filled with idle chatter and the quiet clacks of chess pieces, gobstones, and various other game pieces.

  Thankfully, before one of the seventh years snapped and decided that it would be worth the risk to be charged for murder in exchange for some peace and quiet, the Head Girl cordoned off a section of the room and placed a silencing charm over the border, preventing an all out war between the exam takers and the rest of the student body before it happened.

  Thankfully, though he got a few curious gazes from the other students, no doubt wondering how he had managed to accrue fifty points for Slytherin for “a wonderful display of questioning authority” granted to him by Dumbledore, after the first thirty minutes of study in the silenced section of the room, with nobody being brave enough to break the silence of the dedicated study section, he went mostly forgotten as the students collectively decided that their own futures were probably more important than the latest gossip.

  It was only when a small horde of picnic tables floated into the room, carrying a late breakfast with it, that the silencing charm was broken temporarily, and chatter filled the entire common room.

  The day went by without much drama, aside from a few snickers from the older Slytherins who hadn’t had enough of an opportunity to witness Flynn’s food habits, but nobody attempted to speak to him, which was how he rather liked it.

  After breakfast passed, the room returned to the divided sections of quiet study and idle chatter, interrupted twice more by lunch and dinner, until people started to slowly migrate back to their dorm rooms as the night became later.

  Once Blaise stood up from his table, abandoning the group of second-year girls he had been sitting with the entire day, Flynn stood up a few minutes later, content that Blaise wouldn’t be able to call him a coward if he returned to their dorm room first.

  A few minutes later, Draco and his goons followed them in. Draco seemed upset, and in his typical fashion, complained loudly about it. Apparently his father had come by the school to do something, but failed on account of that old decrepit headmaster who really ought to have retired years ago.

  Flynn didn’t give a shit either way, but with how Draco was upset enough that he didn’t even notice Flynn glaring at him, Flynn simply had to wait until the boy tired himself out with his whining.

  One day of cancelled classes turned into three, before a small note was posted on the announcement board in the center of the Slytherin common room. It had been posted overnight, and was innocuous enough that some of the students almost missed it, but what it read was important enough that news spread by mouth regardless.

  The “problem” plaguing the castle had been dealt with. Classes were back on and the curfew was lifted.

  The initial reaction from the students was disbelief, simply at the lack of fanfare that such an announcement should have held. There was no announcement from Snape, no invitation to the Great Hall to celebrate the school remaining open, nothing. Some of the students even wondered if it was some sort of prank, meant to lure students into the halls where they weren’t allowed, where they would risk expulsion.

  But eventually, someone broke the supposedly invalid curfew, and when they came back in to announce that they hadn’t been petrified, nor had Snape swooped down from the shadows to slap them with a permanent detention, more and more students milled out of the common room, finding confidence in numbers.

  Even with the sight of students from the other houses, wandering the halls, looking similarly confused, nobody really knew how to react. The first reaction was to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, now that it wasn’t being delivered to the common rooms, and though a few of the teachers looked delighted by the sight of students being allowed to roam free, a handful of them, namely Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, had heavy bags under their eyes and the creases in their skin ran deeper than usual, as if they’d skipped out on sleep for the past three days.

  Dumbledore still managed to look delighted despite this fact, and McGonagall looked calmer than she usually did, perhaps not having the energy to keep up a stern face, but the death promised in Snape’s eyes made everyone that had a class with him later that day cringe back in preemptive fear.

  Flynn didn’t spend too much time in the Great Hall afterwards, taking as much food as he could and heading out to the Hogwarts grounds until he reached the familiar hut at the edge of the forest and knocked on the door.

  Flynn didn’t expect to be bowled over and the wind knocked out of him when the giant resident rushed out and scooped him up in a happy bear hug, somehow not hearing the impressive string of profanities hurled into his ear.

  Two sets of bruised knuckles and an aching jaw later, Hagrid finally calmed down from his joy enough to let Flynn down, Hagrid explained that the last few days had probably been the best of his life. Though the Minister of Magic had come for him to send him to Azkaban for a few days, Dumbledore, great man tha’ he was, swooped in to save the day, telling the Minister that he’d be dead before an innocent student of his was carted off to the horrible place.

  Even better yet, when Lucius Malfoy had entered the scene, demanding that Dumbledore step down from his position, Dumbledore had “politely” declined the Order of Suspension though Hagrid seemed to shiver as he recalled Dumbledore’s exact reaction.

  Not to be deterred from his happiness, Hagrid quickly shook off the last of his shivers and recalled the last piece of good news that Dumbledore had given him, just that morning. Starting from next year, Hagrid had been given his dream job as the Hogwarts Professor for Care of Magical Creatures. It was a bit of a surprise, with Professor Kettleburn’s spry energy not befitting of his age, especially with how invigorated he’d been since helping Hagrid take care of Norberta, but it seemed that he’d finally been convinced to enjoy the last of his remaining limbs in retirement.

  - - - - -

  There weren’t that many days left in the school year, and though the school was a lot more hectic, it wasn’t related to any remaining panic from the monster attacks. Rather, the whole “fiasco” with the petrified students quickly became forgotten in the face of the next looming threat. Exams.

  The school quickly fell into a familiar rhythm, with the only thing that changed was Snape’s increasing annoyance at everything in the world as he continued to lose sleep over the final steps of his paralysis cure.

  All in all, Flynn ended the school year with a single Acceptable in Transfiguration and a mixture of Exceeds Expectations and Outstandings for the rest of his classes. Well, he did get a grading of V in his Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was an archaic grading of Void that every single student in the school got after Lockhart’s exams were assessed and determined to not meet the curriculum requirements set by the school board.

  Lockhart excused himself from the silly little mistake by stating that he’d been too busy clearing out the Paralytic Spanish Roach population that had been running amok in Hogwarts for the greater part of the year, all which could be read in his latest book, Swinging with the Spaniards. No, he hadn’t consulted his editor about the title for that one yet. It had been a suggestion by two of his favourite students, Fregery and Gredrick Measles, why do you ask?

  Maybe it was Lockhart loudly announcing his “retirement” at the Final Feast, tearfully telling the student body that they shouldn’t miss him too much and that he would always remain as their favourite Professor in their hearts, that had Flynn so annoyed, but the fact of the matter had been that for the past few days, he’d been feeling more annoyed than ever before.

  It wasn’t just Lockhart, but everything had him feeling especially irritable for the past few days, and he had no idea why.

  It was only when he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and a familiar blob of blonde hair opened the door to his otherwise empty compartment that he realised why.

  “Where have you been the past few days?” Flynn asked.

  “Did you miss me?” Lily asked, with a smile on her face.

  Flynn scowled at her.

  Lily smiled softly at him and walked into the compartment, uninvited, closing the door behind her before sitting down with her hands in her lap, much more formally than he was used to seeing from her.

  “I missed you,” Lily said, unembarrassed by the admission as she continued to smile at Flynn. “Sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

  Flynn didn’t know how to feel about the admission, especially since he hadn’t even realised that something was missing from his life until just now. He decided to simply scowl at her before looking away.

  “Sally misses you too,” Lily continued. “And Luna. I think. I’m never actually sure. I know they’ve been avoiding you too, but that’s my fault. I just felt a little weird about seeing you.”

  Flynn continued to scowl out of the window, not knowing how to react.

  “I like you Flynn. I’ve liked you for a while. I think you’re smart enough to have guessed that already, and I know you won’t do anything but grunt and scowl at me for saying it out loud,” Lily said quickly. “But when I saw you shouting at Dumbledore that day, I realised I don’t actually know that much about you.”

  “What, you didn’t think I would call out an old bastard for being incompetent?” Flynn scoffed, choosing to ignore the first half of what she said, possibly forever.

  “No, that wasn’t surprising to me,” Lily said, with a nervous giggle, though it petered out quickly. “I was thinking more about how scared you sounded.”

  Immediately, Flynn’s head whipped back towards her with a snarl on his face. Lily didn’t flinch, and despite the hint of red that dusted her cheeks, she met his eyes with a surprising amount of resoluteness.

  “You think I was fucking scared?” Flynn growled.

  “You sounded like it,” Lily said, with a nervous smile, more afraid for him than she was of him.

  Flynn scowled at her, and turned to face the window once more.

  “I wasn’t scared,” he growled.

  “Okay,” Lily said. “But in that moment, I thought you were, and I couldn’t even guess why. I know you love studying, and I know you love magic, but I didn’t think you would be so scared of losing the school so much that you would draw that much attention to yourself. Even if I know you weren’t actually scared.”

  Flynn grunted, displeased by the obvious lie, but not wanting to call her out on it.

  “I like you Flynn,” Lily said again. “I like like you, just in case you want to try and pretend like you don’t know what I mean.”

  The Hogwarts Express just passed by a very interesting mountain, shaped like a jagged triangle, that suddenly caught Flynn’s attention. He twisted his head further back to stare at it. Yup. That was a mountain, all right.

  “You’re a very cute boy, Flintstone Fredericton,” Lily said, sounding unbothered by the fact that Flynn had spontaneously gone deaf. “But like I said, I don’t know much about you other than what I see at school. I thought that was enough, and it probably is, but I want to know more about you and I know you won’t just tell me. Consider that a warning.”

  Though he definitely hadn’t been listening to her, Flynn wanted to turn his head to ask what the hell Lily meant by that. Before he could, however, he caught a glimpse of the red-faced boy staring at him through the glass of the Hogwarts Express window. Flynn scowled at the boy, quickly deciding that he needed to think of a way to eliminate the translucent boy from existence before he could spare any of his thoughts towards figuring out whatever the hell Lily was talking about.

  When he heard the sound of Lily’s weight shifting off of her seat, Flynn couldn’t help but flinch for some reason, and when he heard the sound of the door opening, he wanted to turn around and stop her from leaving for some reason, but Lily’s reflection in the glass window stopped at the door, with only her head peeking out into the halls.

  “You know you could’ve come in,” Lily said. “You didn’t have to wait out here.”

  “I think we did,” Sally replied faintly, from somewhere in the hall.

  “Well, anyway. We’re done. Come on in,” Lily said, beckoning with her hand.

  It took several seconds for Sally and Luna to step into view, with Sally placing her hands over the younger girl’s ears, and Luna pinching her own nose closed, rather than blocking her eyes like he might’ve expected.

  “Why are you plugging her ears?” Lily asked.

  “To be safe,” Sally said, her eyes darting between Lily and Flynn. “Are you two…”

  “Boyfriend and girlfriend?” Lily asked. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” Sally repeated, asking the same question that Flynn might have wanted to ask if he weren’t so focused on figuring out how he could destroy the red-faced boy reflected in the glass.

  “Not yet,” Lily replied, as if that answered anything. “I’ll work on it.”

  Though a shiver ran down Flynn’s spine at the statement that sounded eerily like a threat, his mind froze when he felt a weight settle down on the seat beside him and a warm body pressed against his side.

  “Adults are so strange,” Luna whispered.

  “We’re not adults,” Lily replied. “I know Flynn’s big, but we’re barely older than you, Luna.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Luna asked, confused.

  Flynn didn’t remember much of the train ride after that. He supposed that time must have passed, and chatter must have been had, but the only thing he could really remember was a distinct warmth that settled in his face and against his side for the entire train ride, and a constant pounding in his ears. When he got off the train, he must have met up with Liz at some point, and he could only assume she’d asked him questions as she usually did, but it was only two days later that he managed to regain any semblance of sentience.

  It was while he was in the gym’s kitchen, hiding away from the boxing class for brats that Tom was teaching in the main room, when he heard a knock coming from the back door. Though Flynn couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the sound, since the only people who came through the back door were Tom, Jones, and Liz, and even if he didn’t consider the fact that Tom was teaching his class and Jones was already in the kitchen with him, Liz wasn’t the type of person to knock anyways.

  Strangely enough, Jones didn’t seem too surprised by the sound, though any suspicion he might’ve had was compensated by the utter look of annoyance that Jones glared towards him, as if the knocking was somehow Flynn’s fault.

  “Get the fucking door, brat,” Jones said.

  The knock echoed out from the door again, and the rhythmic cadence of it sent a chill down Flynn’s spine.

  “I don’t want to,” he said.

  “Tough,” Jones said. “It’s a customer.”

  “Who?” Flynn asked, even if he had a few guesses.

  “Someone who wants you to be their personal coach,” Jones replied.

  “Dudley?” Flynn asked.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Jones asked.

  “Some kid that Tom made me train last summer,” Flynn said, still with his eyes locked on the back door, unwilling to take his eyes away in case something would burst through and pounce on him.

  “Stupid fucking name,” Jones grumbled. “It’s not him.”

  “Are you sure?” Flynn asked, even as the knocks on the door echoed again.

  “Find out yourself,” Jones grunted. “I’m not fucking dealing with this shit.”

  Jones got up and retreated from the kitchen, through the main gym hall, leaving Flynn alone with the door and its insistent knocks.

  Eventually, he stood up, resigning himself to his fate.

  It was mid knock when he opened the door, and if he squinted his eyes enough, he could almost pretend that it was a very short and blonde Dudley standing behind it.

  “Hiya Flynn,” blonde Dudley said. “Didya miss me?”

  Flynn closed the door calmly.