An opening.

Prize day yawned, and each of them started life there again, one last time. Most were wiping off the haze of the night before.

One last trip into the woods together, one last time to sneak back into school. Even in the final moment they were all St. James' boys. Rules were no longer sacred to any of them. Each had, in his own way, discovered that knowledge that his intelligence allowed him to dance on the fine line of what is, and what is not, honorable.

St. James' didn't have a written code of honor. There, honor was an implicit part of every day, founded in the sweat, tears, dirt, and smoke that permeated the stained wood of the school. Each moment of the day was concerned with superiority.

Harry was there first. He was always first. He had the unique privilege of being the only member of his form ever actually found in the most compromised of positions.