"Within A Morning Star" (Asteria Greengrass, Demelza Robins, various)

[friendshipmods]

Author: primeideal
Prompt/Prompt Author: While Harry is away hunting Horcruxes, and the DA is fighting the Carrows as best they can, the rest of the students are left to find their own way. Especially the current Fifth Year (15 yr olds), who are old enough to defend themselves, but young enough to be foolish. How does this small group of students fight the darkness? These are not the characters that we know and love, but new ones. Feel free to create siblings for known characters or create ones that are completely original. Do these students divide along House lines and fight among themselves? Do some prefer to stick with older or younger years? Do some fall in love during this tumultuous year? How do they come together in the end, and how do they view the final battle? Who lives, and who dies? How are they effected later in their lives - do they come together again, after they have graduated? – lmeden
Title: Within A Morning Star
Characters: Asteria Greengrass, Demelza Robins, Derek, OCs
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Word Count: 15,700
Summary: They were fifteen, for a moment.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to L for betaing.



On the second day of class, Asteria Greengrass hoped that the new professor wouldn't call on her. Most of her classmates, squirming around her, seemed to have the same reaction. It was an outrage. O.W.L. year and they made her take a new required class? Starting two years behind the others? How could they?

They're duffers, she told herself. You'll catch up. But it was hard to believe, with two heavy books in her satchel and Daphne's dark whispers telling that there could be some more for the next term.

Still, she quietly made her way to the back of the Muggle Studies room and kept her face blank. It was only the second day. She could handle it.

And to Asteria's pleasant surprise, the new professor did not call on her or anybody else. After a brief outline of the syllabus (Course Aims: 1-learn basic information about the Muggle threat, 2-understand the history of wizarding security procedures, 3-learn to identify and reject misinformation), Professor Carrow had evidently found the chalk too distasteful to touch much longer and spoke for the rest of the hour, occasionally pacing in the front of the room but not bothering to give a coherent outline.

They were assigned one chapter to read before the next week's lecture, and Asteria exhaled. One chapter, not even a written assignment. And, she reminded herself, looking around at the rest of the room, most of Slytherin was in the same boat—they could always go to each other for help. Slinging her satchel across her shoulder again, Asteria hurried up to Divination. It would have been nicer to sleep in, but things could have been much worse.

The upper classroom felt far emptier; Divination, at least, was still an elective. Professor Trelawney told them that in a couple of weeks she was hoping to have permission to go outside for some general haruspicy, but until all the details had been rearranged they would need to continue geomancy. More reading assigned there, including one chapter with diagrams that looked Chinese. Can't be much worse than Latin. Can it?

When she got back to the common room, Asteria noticed a third year curled up in an elaborately carved chair. She didn't recognize him at all, but recognized the book he was staring at with large, dark eyes; it was the same book Professor Carrow had assigned readings out of.

If third-years can handle it, so can I. One class at a time. She would not whimper.

---

“It's brilliant! They've only put a diving board in it!”

“A diving board?”

“Yeah! There's a bunch of different taps, I haven't figured out what they all do yet...I was too busy going off the diving board.”

“Over and over again?”

“Well, it's not even cold when you get out like a normal pool.”

“Mate, you realize you're getting all excited about using a bathroom, right?”

Orrel Trask blushed. “All right, all right.” He paused. “Still, it is an excellent bathroom.”

Derek Marchand laughed. “I understand. It's just...I don't need to envision anybody else going to the bathroom.”

“Oh no no no,” Orrel began again. “See, you don't go to the bathroom in the swimming pool. That'd just be gross. There are stalls with self-locking doors, you know, never have them swing open on you. And the toilet seats, I think they can sense you coming, they automatically are up or down depending on what you need to do.”

“The toilet seats read your mind? Are you sure you're not just getting lucky?”

“Well, it's not my mind they'd be reading exactly, is it?”

“Orrel?”

“Yeah?”

“We're still having a conversation about toilet seats.”

“Sorry.”

“I'm not...I'm not mad at you, I just thought you should understand. You're getting excited about toilet seats.”

“Yeah,” Orrel blinked, catching himself before he could apologize again.

---

Demelza Robins' first tryouts had been surprisingly eventful. Ten first years sent away—if only Gryffindor had as many as ten first years anymore, instead of those seven terrified kids. With her spot more or less secure, given how few players there were, she didn't think anything more interesting could happen in her second tryouts.

She was wrong.

After Jimmy Peakes' Aguamenti, Ginny Weasley's Braking Charm, and Bobby Glen's Color-Changing Charm had taken care of Lyra Boothby and made sure all the other would-be Chasers knew which goal to aim at, the most eventful proceedings of the day had admittedly passed. But there was still the matter of Beaters to sort out.

Jimmy at least seemed to be the best of what was left to retain his old spot. Which wasn't saying much. Until, all of a sudden, another Bludger made its way towards the temporarily-purple goalposts. Out of the way, except that Siofra Heffernan was chasing after it, diving low as she did so. She's going to wipe out, just like—

Somehow, Siofra pivoted upwards at the last second, rising quickly at the edge of the field and thwapping the Bludger with a tremendous backhand. Ginny gave a loud whistle; she had seen enough. “What was that for?”

“Had to show you I could really get one, didn't I?” Siofra shrugged, racing towards the middle of the field and catching up with the Bludger, hitting it skyward for good measure.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I think tryouts are done for now. There's another kid who's landed himself in detention, I'll give him a look later on. See you guys around, yeah? Good job, everybody,” she added, with a very halfhearted glance at Lyra.

“I didn't know you played Quidditch,” Demelza said, catching up with Siofra as they made their way back to the castle.

Siofra shrugged. “I dunno. My mum's the one who's really into it, but I started following it more the last year or so. D'you think I should ask Weasley about trying out for other positions?”

Demelza shrugged in return. “Can't tell. Don't think turnout will be that good.”

“Aw. Well. Maybe I will. Just in case,” she said, leaping back on her broom and taking off there on the footpath. Unable to make out what Demelza muttered under her breath, Siofra dipped lower. “What, you want a ride?”

“No, thanks. See you back in the dorm?”

“Yeah, sure.” And she shot ahead as, shaking her head, Demelza followed below.

---

The reading went surprisingly well for Asteria, even amid her other O.W.L. classes. What did give her pause, however, was having to cite authors who demonstrated awareness of the Muggle threat in three different centuries.

What is this, History of Magic? At least wait a few years so we can use next century's materials...

Worse, the assignment was due so quickly there was no chance to owl her parents and have them recommend books. She had just made up her mind to ask one of her fellow confused classmates—at least they could be confused together—when a better idea struck her. “Oy,” she whispered. “Chrysanthemum?”

Chrysanthemum Jewkes blinked. “Er. Yeah?”

“You've been taking Muggle Studies all along, haven't you?”

“Yeah,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “easy O. What's it to you?”

“If you, I mean, if it's that easy for you, you've probably already done the assignment, right?”

“Er, I think I have. I just don't know if they're reliable sources, the authors of my old textbook didn't cite them for very much. But whatever.”

“Can I...er...you know. Look at it?”

“You want to copy my homework.”

Asteria shrugged. “Maybe I can help you with Herbology sometime.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head to one side, playing with a long strand of hair. “I'll show you my books, okay? But you can write it out on your own.”

Asteria nodded gratefully. “All right.”

---

“Hey, is Derek around?”

Scott Pittiman glanced up as Orrel paced through the basement. “Er, I think he's down in the dorm.”

“Seriously? Can you get him?

Scott shrugged. “I'll just ask him, yeah?”

“Okay, sure.”

A few minutes later, Scott reemerged. “He says he has to catch up on his homework.”

“Catch up?” Orrel raised his eyebrows. “Bad luck, I didn't even know he was behind. Tell him to come find me if he needs any help, yeah?”

“Tell him? Do you maybe want an owl or something? If he's busy he's busy.”

“Well, sorry, just if you were going in there anyway—”

“I just went in, honestly, you think because we don't have riddles it's easy-come-easy-go—”

“That's not what I said!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay. Well. You'll see him later.” And ignoring Orrel's quiet shock, he made his way down through the tunnel.

By the time he went to bed that night, the bags under Derek's eyes had deepened further; he'd fallen asleep on the bed, without changing. Cautiously, Scott gathered up the books still lying across the bed and set them in a pile by Derek's own, then followed his roommate to sleep.

---

Most of the shop windows in Hogsmeade were dark. Either magically barricaded over by owners who had simply up and left, or repossessed by the Ministry, or simply selling colorless objects. Dervish and Banges had a sale on cauldrons (“brew herbal remedies, just in case”), the post office had black, “extra-security” envelopes on sale, and even Honeydukes was boasting about how dark chocolate was “good for a bit of cheer when you really need it.”

The Gladrags manager, no fool, had set out a window full of bright Quidditch scarves in sharp contrast, and that was where Demelza and Siofra found themselves. “I like the blue one,” said Siofra, picking it off the shelf and experimentally draping it about herself.

Demelza raised her eyebrows. “Ugh. You're not an Arrows fan, are you?”

“It's just cute!”

“Here,” said Demelza, draping a yellow Wasps scarf about the Beater, “much better.”

“Don't move!” came a low voice from behind them.

“What?” shrieked Demelza, while Siofra grabbed her wand.

Click!

Jimmy Peakes stepped forward, triumphantly hoisting his camera. “Until Dennis and Colin get back I'm taking pictures. This is too great, 'moron wears both Wasps and Arrows scarves at the same time.'”

Rolling her eyes, Siofra reset both scarves. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Don't do that again, Demelza was ready to hex you.”

“Was not,” said Demelza.

“Sure you weren't. When are the Creeveys getting back, anyway?”

“Probably not for a while,” Jimmy shrugged. “Ginny says it's going to be like this for a while. But she says they will!”

“They'd better hurry up, or the Ministry should get its act together.”

“Can't trust the Ministry, mate,” said Jimmy.

“Keep your voice down,” Demelza muttered. “Here, Jimmy, get another picture of us, okay? No scarves.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Siofra said, grabbing Demelza's hand and grinning.

Click!

---

Asteria woke in the middle of the night and needed to go to the bathroom. She snuck out, carried out her business, and returned past the yawning portrait to what she expected to be the dark silence of her dorm.

There wasn't enough motion to wake her up, had she not already been awake. But there, trying to go to sleep, she could distinctly make out someone trying not to cry.

Disoriented, she needed to open her eyes and think about where the beds were set up to tell who was who. “Chrysanthemum?” she whispered.

No response.

Quietly, Asteria climbed out of bed and made her way across the room. “It'll be all right,” she whispered, not bothering to ask what “it” happened to be. As far as she knew things seemed perfectly fine with Chrysanthemum. “But you should go to sleep.”

“It's not going to be all right!” Chrysanthemum wailed.

Asteria rolled her eyes, invisibly. “Be quiet.”

Chrysanthemum did not roll over so much as toss herself up in the air, spin, and land facing the wall, pulling the blanket over her in one motion as she did.

“Hey. Ssh.”

No response.

Asteria sighed and went back to sleep, or tried to. She woke up earlier than she had planned to, but early enough to slip a Chocolate Frog into Chrysanthemum's shoes before going downstairs for breakfast.

Chrysanthemum got to the Great Hall just as Asteria was leaving. “That was you?”

Asteria shrugged.

“She thought it was a spider,” Lydia Ramsey grinned, “almost screamed and woke Mildred up.”

“I did not almost scream,” Chrysanthemum glared. “Thanks, though.”

“Course,” said Asteria. “Hey, listen—”

But Chrysanthemum had swept past her and took a seat at the breakfast table, staring at it as if her eyes' focus would will eggs and ham into being.

---

“Are there any questions?”

Derek raised his hand. “Er, yes, Professor.”

Orrel sighed, almost embarrassed on his friend's behalf. He'd let him borrow his notes, he'd even volunteered to look over his essays for him when he didn't have prefect rounds. But still, Derek sat in the class blankly, day after day.

Professor Carrow paced over to Derek's desk. “What's that in your notebook?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, flipping the notebook shut.

“That's exactly right. You haven't been taking any notes, have you, you little insubordinate?”

Orrel tried to catch Derek's eye, but to no avail. “I...I was confused,” Derek stammered.

“You were confused,” Professor Carrow repeated. “Well, we can't be having any of that. What's the concern?”

“I, I was having trouble making sense of Nerva Truman's position.”

“Truman?” said Carrow, tapping the board where she had scrawled it in a cloud of chalk. “He was the one who pointed out the similarities of Muggles to beasts in light of the 1811 classification.”

“Right, right, I know,” smiled Derek. “but in his 1820 work, Webs of Wonder, Truman talks about the importance of reserves for endangered species like the Snidget. I imagine he'd have been all in favor of protecting Muggles, too.”

The class giggled—even Chrysanthemum, who always looked nervous, joined in.

Carrow pursed her lips. “It was a comparison. Of course Truman didn't want to protect Muggles.”

“Really? Can you give me a book where it says that, then?”

“There's no use giving you more advanced reading when you are unable to take notes in class,” sneered Carrow. “you are all dismissed.”

Orrel hurried to catch up with Derek as they left. “Wotcher,” he nodded. “You tracked down Truman's original publication?"

Derek shrugged, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, it was in the library...”

“Well, I was just talking with Professor Carrow, the other Professor Carrow, and he said it's not a good idea to read outside the reading lists. Because a lot of them are old and out of date and it could throw you off, for O.W.L.s and stuff.”

Derek shook his head. “You're just shocked that someone else thought to check out a library book that wasn't just Harper's Chess Problems.”

“Are you having trouble in class? Cause I can try and—”

“Yeah,” Derek cut him off, “I'm having trouble. But maybe it's nothing you can help with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just...I'm fine. I can handle this myself.”

---

The final whistle pierced the air, and Siofra whirled her broom around, not sure what to make of things. But as her disgruntled opponents made their way onto the grass, she beamed and followed suit. They'd won. They'd actually won!

Her first Quidditch match and she'd barely gotten in on the action at all; the Slytherin beaters were just too good. But it didn't matter. As they made their way into the locker room, she pulled a giddy Natalie into a hug. “That was so fast, I could barely see you!”

Demelza shook her head. “You looked like you were going to crash into the goalposts.”

“Brilliant strategy,” Siofra deadpanned. “Get yourself in the hospital wing for a week or two if you can manage it. Much better than sitting through dark arts classes.”

Natalie giggled, but Demelza stiffened. “Don't joke about that. Sylvie—that little third year?—almost had to go to the nurse after her last detention.”

“Well, she didn't, did she? She was fine.”

“I guess,” Demelza shrugged, and they made their way back up to the castle.

The Lions had not been tipped for victory, and the house was pleasantly surprised at the upset. No homework was being done in the common room; rather, some older students had brought out some leftovers from their Hogsmeade trip, and Every Flavor Beans went flying around the room, many thrown from one supporter to another in would-be emulation of Ginny Weasley's Chasing heroics.

“I thought you were saving these for Christmas?” Demelza shrugged.

Alun Couch, one of Ginny's classmates, shrugged. “Who knows if we'll be expelled by then at this rate? Might as well eat 'em now. Brilliant game, by the way, you.”

Demelza rolled her eyes. “You must not be a real fan. I wasn't playing well at all, Ginny set me up there at the end and of course Natalie really came though.”

“Demelza!” Siofra elbowed her. “That's no way to talk to a fan!”

“I meant it to both of you,” Alun winked.

“Oh, come on, I did play better than you,” Demelza teased.

Siofra rolled her eyes. “She's already scored once today, you see, she isn't used to anything more than this.”

“Hey, I got several goals last final—oh,” Demelza rolled her eyes. “Real mature, Couch.”

He shrugged. “I got cursed at all detention, that's plenty of maturity for one week. Unless...you're not of age, are you?”

Siofra blushed. “Sixteen in February.”

“Huh. I come of age over Easter break, otherwise I'd invite you to a party.”

“Have it beforehand,” shrugged Siofra, “no use waiting, is there?”

“I like your style,” said Alun. “Toss me the next bean, will you?”

“Hold on,” said Siofra, flinging one at Demelza, who snagged it out of the air. “Reach like that against Hufflepuff and we'll win this thing yet.”

---

“...you can't put rosemary in your Memory Potion!” Chrysanthemum gaped. “It's not that difficult, look. Just scrape off...here, give it to me.”

Shrugging, Asteria passed over the Jobberknoll feather. Bending over the cauldron, Chrysanthemum duly pared it down.

Professor Slughorn walked by and gave it a sniff. “Looking nice, girls. Now, be sure you can handle it independently! No collaboration on exams, after all.” Chuckling, he walked past as Asteria breathed slowly.

Chrysanthemum had not mentioned that night in the weeks since then, and Asteria hadn't really expected her to. Did she know Asteria was still watching her, trying to gauge her mood? She didn't seem like she could hide it very well, if she could.

“Are you all right?” Chrysanthemum interrupted. “You could probably use some Memory Potion.”

Asteria blushed. “I'm okay. But Professor Sprout's lecture the other day made it sound like this would be useful, that's all.”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “Just follow the textbook.”

“I'm trying!”

“Mmhmm. Okay.” She flipped the page and busied herself with stirring rapidly counterclockwise while Asteria began chopping up more ingredients.

Slughorn eventually pronounced their effort “Acceptable” level, which was fine as far as Asteria was concerned, and even Chrysanthemum didn't seem too disappointed. In the past she might have been—Asteria remembered straggling in late to the dorm after a library study session only to find Chrysanthemum still cramming for the astronomy exams. On the day, however, she just shrugged it off with a relieved grin.

“So you're into Herbology, huh?”

“Not as much as my sister, she's really good. I just like looking at flowers,” she giggled.

“Huh. Does your sister want to go into that?”

“I'm not sure. I think she's planning on tutoring the young people, if she can, but she hasn't sorted it out yet.”

Chrysanthemum gaped. “Isn't she a seventh year?”

“Yeah.”

“And she doesn't know yet?”

“Nuh-uh. You're the oldest, aren't you? Are your parents just on your case?”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. Claudius is eleven and all he wants to do is play Quidditch so they breathe down my neck instead.”

“With your brains? You'll be fine.”

“Course I will. But I'm sure they'd just as well see me find a Pureblood man and pass down his family name. I—” she broke off.

“What?”

“I...” Biting her lip, Chrysanthemum shook her head. “Look, I make Potions look easy, but the O.W.L.s are really scaring me. I haven't revised my Charms essay at all and I just—I don't—I'm scared.”

“You're going to be fine.”

“Keep telling me that,” she said. Sometimes listening was easier than speech.

---

“Oy! When am I coming to your house?”

“My house?” blinked Derek. “Never, Hufflepuff don't allow trespassers and we're not starting now.”

Orrel rolled his eyes. “Your house house.”

“What?”

“The twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth, do those work for you? Or are you visiting family? I'll see when I can get away, if they don't—I mean obviously with the Floo being the way it is it'll be hard but I can manage, I'm sure—”

“You mean over Christmas?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I...did you mention this before? Because this is the first I've heard about it.”

“I always visit you after Christmas!”

“The last two years!”

“Look, if it's an issue, just say so. Or do you need to owl your parents? That's fine, I just want to make my own plans.”

“I—I don't think I'm going home for Christmas.”

“What?”

“I have to hear back from my parents. But I think I'm staying through. There are a bunch of little kids to look out for.”

“Look out for? I'm a prefect and I'm going back, no one's making you stay.”

“Well—you know—there's a lot of families who aren't—I just think for the kids who are staying, it'd be nice to have some other people around. Make it festive. I stayed through my first couple years, it got lonely.”

“So why are you staying again if it was so lonely the first time?”

“For the other kids, you git.”

“Git? Well, I bet the other kids will be scared of your big ugly face,” Orrel tried to tease back.

“They'll have had four months of the Carrows, I can't scare them any more than that.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Orrel squinted. “What's that on your arm?”

“Very funny, mate.”

“No, I'm serious!” He reached out, but Derek jerked his arm away. “What is that?”

“Got into a fight.” Derek pulled down his sleeves, hiding the dark bruise.

“You? In a fight? Over what, who would get the last muffin?”

“Shut it, Orrel—”

“Well next time come get me, okay? You're my best mate, I don't want anybody beating you up.”

“Me neither, just—heat of the moment. You know.”

“I—” Orrel cut off. “Yeah.”

---

An exhausted Demelza trooped into Gryffindor Tower, collapsing on a couch and tossing her bag to the floor. From behind her came an muffled, “mm!” of shock.

Demelza quickly reached for her bag, but as she turned, she noticed only the top of Alun's head and, a few inches below it, the back of Siofra's. “Wotcher,” she called, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh...hey Demelza,” said Siofra.

Alun gave a flourished bow. “Evening.”

Demelza glanced around the otherwise vacated common room, and pulled herself up from the couch, bag in tow. “Right. Er. I'll...just be going?”

“As we were, then?” Siofra smirked.

Rolling her eyes, Demelza made her way to her dormitory. Despite the long day of classes, and the even longer detention she'd earned, it was hard to fall asleep. Eventually she got out her History of Magic book and tried to read that, hoping it would make sleep easier to come by.

As her eyes glazed over, rereading a page about Dzou Yen's alchemy for the third or fourth time, Siofra finally made her way into the room. “Hey.”

Demelza looked around. “Where is everyone?”

“Library, I guess.”

“Like you'd know. I swear there could be a werewolf running around the school and all you'd care about is snogging Alun some more.”

Siofra grinned. “If there is a werewolf running around the school, you'd just want to get as much snogging as you could in before then, eh?”

“Maybe you would.”

“Like you wouldn't? There's lots of people to snog—Aubrey wants a girlfriend, so does Harris, I think Pellar in Ravenclaw does too if you're the Ianthic sort.”

“Only you would try to set me up with a girlfriend, Siofra.”

“No time like the present, is there?”

“I'd say the time after I get through all this reading,” Demelza threw the book down, “will be a lot like the present. But better. I've given up bothering with Defense now.”

“I think we all have.”

“Not those Pureblood nutters. They soak it up, it's sick.”

Siofra nodded slowly. “So...I'll tell Pellar to proposition you on the train home, yes?”

Demelza hurled a pillow at her, and Siofra returned fire half-literally; as her wand hand cast a decorative puff of smoke, her own pillow went hurtling across the room. It hit the top of the four-poster bed, however, bouncing harmlessly to the floor.

“Good thing you didn't go out for Chaser,” said Demelza, kneeling to pick the pillow up but bracing herself for a return salvo.

---

Chrysanthemum's hand rushed across the page, her untidy handwriting spilling out below it, until she crossed the final t with a flourish. “There! Done!”

“Already?” Asteria gaped. She had not yet begun the next Muggle Studies assignment, but found to her pleasure that she wouldn't necessarily need to for a while. With Chrysanthemum's help, she really had gotten better at it.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “This is easy stuff, I've been in the class for two years.”

“Oh. Right. Er—so what's the rush, then? Going to the Quidditch match?”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “Never really got into it. Well, as much as Claudius, anyway. Nah, I just found books I wanted to read, figured I'd go to the library while it's not so loud. But come tell me if we win, anyway. Okay?”

“You should come,” said Asteria. “Just to hang out with everyone. Or look at the cute players.”

Chrysanthemum snorted. “No, thank you. Too fast-moving a game. Seriously.”

“Well, I don't like it that much either. I'd hang out in the library with you.”

“Nah, it's boring. Seriously, you can just boil down the entire match into the good parts.”

“Okay,” shrugged Asteria.

True to her word, she returned shortly after, Chrysanthemum whirling and slamming her book shut like she'd seen a ghost (well, a ghost that didn't belong in the library). Shoving it under the desk, she stammered, “How was the match?”

“Rubbish,” said Asteria, “don't go back up to the common room, everyone's miserable.”

“How so?”

“Ravenclaw caught the Snitch, obviously. But the players were going at each other all day, their Keeper called Vaisey a Muggle-lover but the cheating ref gave them a penalty, their Beaters kept insulting us, it was horrible.”

“How bad was the final score?”

“Er—we were up by ten, I think, when they caught the Snitch.”

“Ten...goals?”

“No, no, just ten points.”

“So we were down by one goal...and then lost? Can't be that bad, if they're trying to insult us it didn't really work.”

“I guess. But still. I should've stayed here.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “Maybe you want to do your essay, huh? You're getting good at those now, I don't need to read it for you!”

Asteria blushed. “Thanks.”

---

Of course, the same result had provoked jubilation from Ravenclaw fans. And not just them. Most of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who had come out were supporting the Eagles against the Snakes, at least for the time being.

“I mean,” shrugged a still-giddy Orrel afterwards, hustling back to the castle through the cold afternoon, “it can't last, of course, whoever wins next match will have us in the final.”

“Mm,” nodded Derek.

“I'll be gunning for your lot, of course,” he grinned, “no hard feelings, but I heard Bradley tell Hanson he'd rather play you.”

Derek shrugged. “Fair dos.”

Orrel turned, trying not to squirm. “Look...er...thanks for coming out.”

“Yeah. Good I get to see you somewhere. Didn't know you were such a Quidditch fan.”

“I'm not, really. But the House Cup—Slytherin have so many more people than we do, now, they're always earning points. It'd be nice to see y—someone else catch up for a change. Might as well be Hufflepuff,” he shrugged magnanimously, “Gryffindor does seem well out of it, though.”

Derek froze in his path. “House points? Is that what you think this is about?”

“Is what about?”

“This year,” hissed Derek, resuming at a quicker pace as Orrel followed behind, taking long steps to keep up with Derek's more numerous shorter ones. “Everything that's been going on. You think as long as Slytherin doesn't win the House Cup, it'll all be fine?”

“Uh...no. Of course not.”

“There's a start. So, act like it.”

“I mean, what do you want me to do?”

“You're a prefect, Orrel, do something, whatever it is they teach you at Prefect School.”

“Prefect School? Where've you been hiding out this whole year, you don't go to the same school as me anymore?”

“You—” Derek broke off.

“Oy!” called Ryan Harris. “Trask! Hurry up, the McPierces have something planned for the common room...”

Orrel's eyes lit up, and he rushed alongside Ryan. Derek continued on, more slowly, but numb to the cold.

---

“And your assignment, Miss Heffernan?” said Professor Carrow.

“Er...my...assignment!” said Siofra. “Right. My assignment.”

Rummaging in her book bag, causing a charmed eraser, several notebook fringes, and a rather overdue copy of Quidditch Through the Ages to come flying out, she triumphantly produced an untidy scroll, placing it down on the desk.

Carrow picked it up with two fingers on each hand, slowly unrolling it. “Your Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment, Miss Heffernan.”

“Ooh. Er.” Siofra dug even deeper. A rancid half-eaten bag of Every Flavor Beans followed; the eraser, which had temporarily grown paws, scurried away in disgust. “Right. Here you are. Defense!”

Carrow fingered it with just one hand. “This is from November.”

“It...is a Defense assignment of mine. Sir.”

He shook his head. “Detention for you tonight. Now. Who can tell me the advantages of Inferius charming? Trask?”

“It provides for unquestioning obedience to your commands, whereas magical beings might have their own agenda and beasts can be flighty.”

“Well-phrased,” Carrow nodded. “As Peralbio explains in The Secret Art, an Inferius provides a loyal and...”

Demelza snuck a look across the room; Siofra, for a change, seemed to be bent over her desk and taking notes diligently. She squinted—no, that was definitely One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi open on her lap. And they had Potions next.

Rolling her eyes, Demelza took brief notes. -Inferi—good to control—helps to kill yourself—Muggles possible but flighty—storage difficult—theoretical.

(Later, studying for the exam, she would insert a parenthetical “them” after “kill.”)

“Detention tonight?” Demelza muttered at the end of class. “Ginny won't be pleased.”

“Oh. Quidditch.” Siofra swore. “I'll get away if I can. Otherwise it'll be all the more fun for Jimmy with two Bludgers to contain, eh?”

“'Fun,' yeah. Why didn't you do the assignment—don't tell me. You and Alun 'busy' again?”

“Might've been,” Siofra grinned. “Jealous?”

“No! Ew. But doesn't he have class? I guess it's not N.E.W.T.s for him yet...”

“I guess he has class. But come on, you have to admit I'm more fun than a bunch of dumb essays. I don't think the Carrows even read mine anyway, they're too busy giving detentions.”

“They don't read yours because you don't write them!”

Siofra shrugged. “Whatever. Life's too short to spend on essays.”

“Life's too short to spend in detention, either.”

“Hello there!” called Professor Slughorn. “Assignments. Anyone? Miss Heffernan?”

Demelza took a seat and slumped in it.

---

“I can't believe my parents,” Chrysanthemum said in tired disbelief. “Claudius sneaks out of his dorm to get food and somehow it's my fault!”

“You'd better keep an eye on him,” Asteria said with mock seriousness, “otherwise he'll turn to the real dangerous crime. Graffiti.”

“Claudius would never graffiti anything, he barely sits still long enough to write his essays.”

Asteria shrugged, rounding a corner. “I'm just saying. Look, it's everywhere now.”

Dumbledore's Army: Still Recruiting.

“Hmm,” said Chrysanthemum, blinking at the scrawl.

“Idiots,” said Asteria. “This is the most beautiful building in magical Britain, everyone says, and they have to go messing it up.”

“Well, Filch'll be out of St. Mungo's soon, it'll get better.”

“The Squib can take his time, he had it coming.”

“Well, do you want it cleaned up or not?”

“It should never have been there to begin with!” said Asteria sharply. A first year hustling by turned his head at the sharp noise.

Chrysanthemum waved her friend down the hallway. “C'mon. It's fine, it's no big deal.”

“I heard they're a bunch of troublemakers. Sneaking out, breaking the rules.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “Can't be that bad. Troublemakers would name themselves after one of the, the criminals, wouldn't they? Not Dumbledore.”

“Have you read Skeeter's book? Apparently he wasn't all that brilliant.”

“Greatest wizard of our time!” Chrysanthemum said fervently. “I'm not bothered if he only discovered three or four uses of dragon's blood, but he was a hero, you know? Being able to stand up to—to people like Grindelwald, and that.”

“Yeah, well, he's dead, isn't he? Not very heroic.”

“I...guess,” shrugged Chrysanthemum. “Had a good run, though.”

Asteria blinked, growing nervous. Chrysanthemum had never struck her as the type to toe the line, and yet...She had to be careful. “...You don't think your brother actually did this, did you? It's all right, you don't have to cover for him.”

Chrysanthemum just laughed. “Claudius? I told you, he'd never bother, he's just too lazy.”

“Okay, well. If you think you know who did it, you should just tell a teacher—I'm sure they don't mind as long as it doesn't happen again.”

“What. You think—I have no idea!”

“Okay. Good. Just—it looks bad, so I hope it doesn't happen again. You know?”

Chrysanthemum nodded vaguely. “Sure. Whatever.”

---

“Evening,” Orrel nodded as Mariana Marchbanks, a fellow prefect, walked by. The rounds had been quiet so far, and they were just passing on the sixth floor. She had the towers yet to sweep out, while he had double-checked a self-spiraling stairwell in between his ground-floor patrols.

Cautiously, Marchbanks proceeded up the stairs as Orrel headed back down. The faint torches lit his way; a portrait of a young wizard unceremoniously pulled his finger out of his nose as Orrel kept climbing down.

Then the torches went out.

“What the—” Orrel began, groping for the handrail. He stumbled down blindly. “Marchbanks?”

There were several loud sets of footsteps above him. Turning around, Orrel cast Lumos and waved it above him, but there was no one visible and the footsteps seemed to be scattering in different directions.

Still holding his wand high through the darkness—was that some kind of powder in the air?—he continued down. And down. And down.

“It looks worse than it is,” he shrugged broadly to Derek the next day, nodding at his bruised elbow. “Can't see those trick steps by night.”

Derek blinked. “Yeah, I'll say. Did you go to Pomfrey about it or what?”

“Well I tried, she was busy, said it looked worse than it was.”

Derek snorted. “Quite.”

“Anyway, don't worry, I'll be fine. Looks gross, though.” He wrinkled his nose at it again.

“It's just a bruise. Now if you wanted to stand out, you should've gotten jinxed or something. Everyone's black and blue, you want a little magenta and lime if you really want to be unique.”

“I'd just as soon not stand out and have my skin stay the same color as normal, thanks.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You'd better hope that stays normal.”

“Eh?”

He shook his head but scratched at his own leg. “Never mind. C'mon, let's get lunch.”

---

The whistle blew, and Demelza blinked. Had there been a foul? Hufflepuff had been struggling but neither side was playing very dirty. Ginny had been limping at the previous practice, and while she was recovered for the game, it was still a fairly gentle affair.

She blinked again, and saw that Natalie was halfway to the ground, the Snitch in her hand. They'd done it again! Grinning, she sailed downward as well as what was left of the crowd (the indoor nature of Madam Puddifoot's having proven increasingly alluring as the match wound on) applauded.

Back in the clubhouse, Demelza slowly pulled her Quidditch robe off, hurrying into her school robes—once the sweat of the match had been washed away, the chill of February set in.

“Took you long enough!” Siofra called. “...oh, it's you.”

“Looking for someone?”

“Natalie. Can't believe it took her three tries to come up with the Snitch, she's so much faster in practice.”

“As long as she gets it in the end. This way we got to score a bunch more goals.”

“Says the Chaser!”

Demelza shrugged. “Ravenclaw is so good, though. This way at least we don't need to worry about point difference anymore, all it takes is beating them in May and the cup is ours.”

“Why are you worrying about May? It's Valentine's Day, you should be snogging while the snogging's good.”

Demelza shook her head. “That Couch really is wearing off on you.”

“I'm just saying, I could've been in Hogsmeade half an hour ago—”

“—you mean in his face—”

“—if Natalie wasn't so slow.”

“You go on your date, we'll see who's laughing when we win the Quidditch Cup.”

“A lot can happen between now and May,” shrugged Siofra, “don't want to waste it all in the air.”

---

“Chrysanthemum? Hey. Hey! Chrysanthemum!”

Chrysanthemum jolted awake; Asteria was shaking her shoulder. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep, I think.”

“I'll say.” She sat up; she was still in the library, her Astronomy essay still in front of her. “Five more inches. Ugh.”

“You...you should come eat dinner, remember? You said you wanted me to get you for dinner.”

Chrysanthemum closed her eyes, sagging back in the chair. “I can't. Have to finish this essay.”

“You can finish it after dinner.”

“I'm doing Muggle Studies after dinner.”

“It won't take you that long, you're so good at them.”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “I hate the class.”

“Really? But you're brilliant—”

“We never learn anything anymore.”

“Well, it's not the teacher's fault that Heffernan and Marchand always have to go shooting their mouths off, it's no wonder they can never finish the lecture.”

Chrysanthemum sighed, shoving her book into her bag.

“We still have a long time until O.W.L.s, you'll pass them, it's fine.”

Chrysanthemum shook her head. “Of course I'll pass them. But—I want Os. Something to show my parents that I—I—have been doing something all year.”

“Okay. So. Eat food, you clearly weren't going to get anything done when you were asleep were you?”

Chrysanthemum stood up. “Look. Asteria. Can you keep a secret?”

“Course I can,” she shrugged.

“I—this—Muggle Studies, I—never mind.”

“You need to eat,” said Asteria. “Come on, let's go.”

They went to the dining hall, Asteria plunging into a pork dinner but Chrysanthemum picking at her biscuit. “I don't feel well.”

“Okay. So, go back down to the common room and sleep?”

“You're not helping.”

“What do you want?”

“I want this dinner to stay down.”

Asteria rolled her eyes. “Let's go back to the dorm.”

So they went, Asteria settling into her bed and flipping through a magazine, Chrysanthemum closing her eyes. The rest of the dorm trickled in eventually, going to sleep, and Asteria was about to fall asleep herself when she heard noise.

Chrysanthemum was sneaking out of bed, without even lighting up her wand, taking care to keep quiet. Had she been serious about a secret?

Cautiously, Asteria followed through the darkness. In the common room, Chrysanthemum did finally cast Lumos, climbing into a chair by the fireplace and pulling out...a book.

She turned a few pages as Asteria stood quietly, before whirling around, wand at the ready. “Who's there?”

“It's me!” Asteria jumped.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

“Homework.” Chrysanthemum stuck out her lip in the darkness. “I slept in the library so I'm not tired right now. Just let me finish this Muggle Studies stuff, okay?”

Asteria sighed. “Okay.”

---

“Happy birthday!”

Derek grinned. It had been a great day, even by the standards of a happier year. Despite his confidence that the mail was being screened, a tin of cookies, a warm pair of gloves, and a letter promising tickets to a good concert over Easter holidays had come by owl post from his parents. From his Hufflepuff friends came a bunch more sweets, and Scott and Andrew had sung a goofy duet making fun of him. Best of all came the little second-years with their muttered “Happy birthday”s and “Thanks for everything”s.

But, apparently, there was even more. “Thanks!” he said, as Orrel handed him the package. He poked dubiously at the tape. “Wrap this yourself, did you?”

“I used to use Muggle tape, it holds together better. Can't find any anymore.”

After a minute of useless effort, Derek finally pulled out his wand and Vanished the tape, as Orrel chuckled. “Hey...this is...” He flipped through, mouth agape, then tapped one page with the end of his wand. Immediately, the diagram became animated, colors changing and symbols moving around. Derek tapped it again, and it froze. “Harper's?”

“Yeah. Volume Three, I know you've read the first one.”

Derek smiled but shook his head. “When did you get this?”

“Over Christmas. We were at Flourish and Blotts.”

“And you've just been saving it for me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “knew your birthday was coming up. You need a break from O.W.L. cramming.”

“I...keep busy already.”

“You sure do, I hardly see you around. Hufflepuff stuff?”

“Eh, yeah,” he shrugged.

“Okay, yeah. Well, maybe you can read it over the summer.”

“Yeah. I can't wait to be out of here.”

“Me neither,” said Orrel, and they looked at each other and laughed. For a minute Derek no longer felt sixteen, nor fifteen either; he was back in the days when a chess puzzle book was the best gift in the world, and he could go back down to his dorm and set up the pieces and move them around without looking at their faces and thinking of his fellow students.

---

“Heads!”

“Heads what?” shrugged Siofra.

Demelza blinked as the Knut spun to the train platform. “Heads up, I guess, you look like you're about to back onto the track.”

“Oh. Oh, you thought I was flipping it? Well, to pass the time, I guess, but...” she glanced down. “It was tails.”

“Figures.”

Siofra picked it up, then flipped it again. Her thumb bent at the last second, however, and instead of flying straight up, it veered towards the tracks.

Rolling her eyes, Demelza plucked it out of the air, then turned it over on her arm for good measure. “Tails again. Darn.”

“Hey, give it back.”

“Okay,” said Demelza, handing it over. “We should line up, there aren't gonna be any seats left—”

“There are plenty of seats, remember how many kids left? But watch this.” Siofra gave the coin a light toss, and it landed between the tracks.

“What are you doing?”

“Ugh, I can't aim. Okay, hold on. Wingardium Leviosa!”

The Knut rose up and, with a wave of her wand, Siofra pushed it over to the far rail. “Siofra, the train's coming—Siofra!”

But Siofra stepped back a few seconds before the train pulled into the station. “Ugh, not far enough. Accio Knut!” It swept back into her hand.

“What was that?” said Demelza, hustling towards the end of the line of students.

“Trying to flatten a coin under a train,” Siofra responded, following after.

“What for?”

“Fun?” she shrugged. “Alun says that Muggles do it all the time.”

“Muggles? Without magic? They'd get killed!”

“No they don't.” They boarded the train, and in turn found seats, Siofra immediately cracking the window open. She then dropped the Knut out, squinting as she pointed her wand down.

“Siofra...”

“Wingardium...” The train took off with a jerk. “Ugh.” Sighing, she sat back down.

“What were you going to do, push it onto the rail and then summon it after we went past?”

“Yeah,” Siofra shrugged.

“You're mental!”

“Admit it, it would've been funny to see.”

“I don't know what Alun tells you, but if you keep that up one of these days you're going to hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself? There are a million nutters out there who would hurt me if I put a toe out of line. You know what happens in detentions, don't you?”

“I mean, I’ve gotten one or two—”

“You know how bad it is. There's no time to worry about classes anymore, if the Ministry is going to be like this I want to have as much fun as I can before—”

“Before what?”

“Anything! It's just getting worse and worse, I might as well have fun.”

“Playing Quidditch is fun! Landing yourself in hospital because you thought you would juggle Bludgers or something is not fun, I swear you'd try if Alun dared you.”

“Stop worrying about me, who do you think you are, my mum?”

“You're mental, I swear, I just—”

“Forget it,” said Siofra, grabbing her trunk and heading towards the next car, “go work ahead on your essays or whatever, clearly you can't appreciate a vacation once you've got one.”

An hour later, on her way to the bathroom, Demelza would pass Siofra, her face firmly ensconced in Alun's. Neither noticed her.

---

The same train pulled back into Hogwarts Station a week and a half later with Asteria in tow. She made her way up to the dorm with Daphne, but found her bed smaller and harder and in every way less satisfactory than it had been before the pleasantries of home.

“Hullo, Asteria,” Chrysanthemum waved. “Have a good break?”

“Yeah. Was that your brother on the train?”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “What'd he do, blow it up?”

“No, he's fine. Just wondering if he went without you.”

“I'm sure he's fine, but how's the train?”

Asteria laughed.

“See, this is why I let him go back without me.”

“And how was your break?”

“Oh, good. Nice having the library to myself, lots of reading to get done.”

“You're going to be ahead of all of us, you know, even the Ravenclaws go home and relax on break.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “This was a break. Going home with Claudius and my parents...wouldn't have been.” At Asteria's concerned face, she added, “Trust me.”

Asteria blinked. “Yeah. I, I should probably unpack.”

She bent down by her suitcase, not facing the others.

Trust me. Chrysanthemum wanted her to keep a secret—something that was driving a wedge between her and her parents? She didn't seem like the type to do anything wrong, she worked so hard in all her classes, made them look easy. Especially Muggle Studies, she just breezed through it. Barely needing to listen to the lectures. Not minding even when the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff nutters interrupted with their lies.

She glanced again at Chrysanthemum. The Jewkes were an old Pureblood family—in laxer times, to be sure, they'd had Muggles marry in. But none of them would dream of dirtying the line in the new day and age.

Would they?

Asteria turned to her suitcase again, breathing deeply. There was nothing to be gained from blowing up over a few suspicions.

But she would have to watch where Chrysanthemum went. And where she, herself, stepped.

---

“Oy. Orrel. You have a minute?”

“Sure,” Orrel shrugged, as Derek waved him down the hallway, into an empty classroom. “What's up?”

“Look—er—I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt on this one. You don't know Claire Watkins, do you?”

“Er...”

“She's the third-year you told off for smuggling Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder the other week.”

“Well, yeah, some nutter put the lights out with it, that's how I got hurt before—”

“Okay, what I'm trying to say is, we actually need that to—”

“We?”

“Just—the little kids don't deserve what the Carrows are doing, right. So we have to hide them sometimes if they're out late or just shooting their mouths out, they don't know any—”

“Who is we?”

“Just...some people.”

“Are you saying you threw that powder back before break, that was you?”

“Don't remember.”

“You don't remember?”

“Well it's happened a couple times, I'm not sure which day was which. That might've been me, might've been someone else, the point is—”

“The point is I could've fallen down a flight of stairs!”

“Oh, poor Orrel. Have a look at this, would you,” Derek hissed, rolling up his sleeve to reveal several dark bruises on his arm. “Got this one for standing up in Defense—”

“You say that like it's an O on your paper, go to the hospital wing and have it looked at or shut up, it's not something to brag about!”

“An O on my paper? That's all you care about, is it, being the perfect prefect and never having anyone else challenge you?”

“Just because you want to play the hero—”

“Just because you can't stand not being top—”

“What do you mean, my grades have nothing to do with this—”

“There you go, you're doing it again—”

“Doing what again?”

“You're hopeless,” Derek glared, storming out of the classroom.

“What? Derek? Derek! I—”

But Derek was already making his way through the hall, and Orrel couldn't interrupt the flow of fourth-years spilling out from around a corner.

---

Siofra gulped down her breakfast, spearing another egg and eagerly biting in. She had overslept and was running a little late, but it was just Muggle Studies first and that didn't matter.

She blinked at the high table as Professor McGonagall, her own meal finished, rose to depart. But rather than leaving with the other professors, she made her way towards the Gryffindor house table. “Miss Robins?” she smiled thinly.

“Whuh?” blinked Demelza, setting down her own slice of toast. “Er...morning, Professor.”

“Would you come to my office after your classes today? There are a couple matters I'd like to discuss.”

“Er...”

“It shouldn't take too long. Or do you have any other plans?”

“Er—no. No, I'll be there.”

“Very good,” said McGonagall, continuing on her way.

Siofra blinked. Sure, she had probably earned at least a visit to the house head's office given her accumulating record, but as far as she knew Demelza hadn't done anything wrong. Had she? She looked around for their teammates, but Ginny was still nowhere in sight. “Er. Simon?” she whispered to the third Chaser.

“Morning,” said Simon, gulping down his glass of milk.

“Do...do you know what's going on with Demelza? McGonagall wants to talk to her.”

Simon blanched. “Haven't the foggiest. Maybe it's about Transfiguration.”

“Yeah,” shrugged Siofra, “I guess.”

“She'll be fine,” he smiled, “this is McGonagall we're talking about, remember?”

“At this rate?” Siofra shrugged. “Eh. Whatever.”

“You can't just ask Demelza yourself what's going on?”

“Eh. Not really.”

“Can you two go ahead and stop arguing about whatever it is already? We can still win the final, it'd be nice if you were speaking to each other.”

“It'd be nice to have a captain, too,” Siofra shrugged.

---

“Now, can anyone summarize Lithgow's argument? Yes? Trask?”

“That it's not acceptable for wizards to marry Muggles, because their children will pick up on Muggle habits instead of receiving a proper wizarding education.”

Carrow smiled and wrote miscegenation on the chalkboard after peeking at the book, as if to check the spelling. But her smile faded when she saw that another hand was raised. “Unless you are responding to me, there is to be no talking in the class under penalty of detention.”

Siofra scowled. Derek, half-asleep, blinked. Chrysanthemum squealed. “Detention?”

“It shouldn't be anything new.”

“What do you mean? I've never been to detention! I—”

Carrow blinked. “Jewkes? Do you have a question?”

She nodded. “I—I—I just wanted to be sure I understood the reading.”

“Are the readings difficult?”

“No, I just, the summary. Lithgow didn't say anything about marriage, did she?”

“Did you do the reading? It was entirely about the threats that magical-Muggle unions pose.”

“Right, yeah, the children would be messed up. But—that's not about marriage, is it? You could get married without having kids.”

Carrow blinked. “Certainly. But that's not to imply that magical-Muggle unions are acceptable—”

“Then what is?” Siofra called out. “Either tell us the truth or stop talking rubbish, you're not fooling anyone.”

“Detention, Miss Heffernan,” said Carrow automatically, “and no more flimsy excuses about Quidditch practice with your team in this state.”

“So you admit it's all right for wizards and Muggles to marry. Huh.”

Carrow pursed her lips, returning to the chalkboard. “You should read Towers Above, by Weland Worple, for a more comprehensive look at the broader dangers of Muggle society and why wizards need no part of it.”

“Is that going to be on O.W.L.s?” called Orrel.

“No, but—”

“Then it's not really fair to make us read it with just a couple months left, for most of us this is just our first year in the class and not the third.”

“Heffernan wanted additional information, I think it's the least I can do.”

“Well, I asked the sixth-years about their tests and they didn't have to read any of these books, they had to learn about electrics and common houses and—”

“The examinations have been revised. You should find this class more than adequate preparation.”

“So the last two years have been a waste of time?” yelled Chrysanthemum.

“The ministry continues to revise its curriculum—”

“I worked for those Os! I was just coasting through the first term, waiting and waiting for the rest of the class to catch up with us, and now you're saying it doesn't matter what I did third and fourth year?”

“What matters is Lithgow,” said Carrow. “Who can give an example of dangerous blood-mixing? Anyone?”

The fifth-years were quiet.

“Robins, have you been doing the reading?”

“Eh?” said Demelza.

“Can you give an example of what happens when Muggle blood taints magical families?”

“Taints?” she squinted. “Well, my mum is half-blood, my grandfather was a Muggle, but it hasn't seemed to hurt me.”

“You'd be surprised.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you ought to come up with a good example or I may have to assign all of you extra reading.”

“But what about, I don't know, Bowman Wright? He learned some science tricks from Muggles. Or...”

“Or what?”

Demelza was looking around the classroom. “N...never mind.”

“There's nothing you want to say?”

“N—no, professor.”

“Very good. You would do well to learn from your classmate's silence, if not her reading habits.”

“What if we have to go to the bathroom?” said Asteria.

“Go on and go,” called Derek, “you're a Slytherin, you'll be fine.”

“Excuse me?”

Carrow nodded at Derek. “Much as I would like to give you detention tonight, I am afraid my brother is already expecting you. Alas. But there will be no more talking.” She picked up the chalk again. “To name only a few examples from the reading you all should have done...”

---

“Hey, you have a minute?” Asteria asked as they made their way to lunch.

“Mmhmm,” said Chrysanthemum.

“I...just wanted to say thank you for helping me all year. It means a lot.”

“What? Oh, sure, any time.”

“I never really thought about—I mean, of course I knew you'd been taking it before, that's why I asked you. But I didn't think about how boring it must be for you, and I'm sorry we can't keep up.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “Not your fault you don't want to be there. There is a lot of new stuff, so it's not that bad, and I took it for an easy O anyway.”

“Okay. Just, you know, when you get mad at everyone for dumbing it down, you don't have to hold it in.”

“I'm not mad at you. I mean, you—you've been great this year. It's nice to feel useful.”

“Right. Still, I—I don't mind if you get a little fed up, as long as your secret isn't anything that bad.”

“What? Oh yeah, I almost—” Chrysanthemum glanced around. “Not here, okay?”

“What?”

“Let's...just get out of the way a little.” She rounded a corner, turning away from the Great Hall, Asteria following nervously behind. “I should've done this before. You've been a good friend and I—I just need someone to talk to.”

“Er...”

“After class today and everything.”

“Don't make me do this.”

“What?”

“Don't—don't make me choose—between you and—look, you are my friend, but if people ask questions, I need to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself?” Chrysanthemum had drawn her wand, and Asteria reached for hers. “What do you take me for?”

“You—you're a—marriage. You've fallen in love with a Muggle, have you? Or a terrorist?”

Chrysanthemum looked from the wand in her own hand to Asteria, gently lowered her arm, and broke into laughter. “A...ahahahahahaha...you thought I...oh, my...with everything...hahahahaha...I don't—ha!—I, I don't, want to marry, a Muggle, my—hahahahaha—I—I would rather marry—a—a witch.”

“Oh thank goodness,” said Asteria. “Right. A witch. A. Oh! Okay. You're—you're of the Ianthic sort, then?”

Still trying to stop laughing, Chrysanthemum nodded.

“Oh. All right. Sure. You could've told me.”

“I—please don't tell anyone yet, I'd rather, you know, sort a few things out for myself, first.”

“Of course. Your parents, they'll be fine.”

“I guess. Eventually.”

“You—you don't fancy me or anything. Do you?”

“No! I mean, don't take it personally—”

“I don't—”

“Okay good. Yeah. So. Lunch?”

“Yes!”

Chrysanthemum shook her head. “A Muggle. Hahahahahaha.”

---

Orrel paused his Herbology assignment early, hurrying down to the basement so he could catch Derek coming out of the Hufflepuff basement. “Hullo. I—I came to apologize.”

Derek blinked. “For what?”

“Well—you know.”

“Not...exactly.”

“Not exactly? What's this going to be, did you insult so many of your best friends that you just forgot about me? Lost track of me in the shuffle, have you?”

“Okay, better question,” said Derek, “why are you apologizing?”

“Well—I—I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to do that, that—that was wrong of me. So, so I'm apologizing, for that.”

“But you don't—do you just want me to forgive you? Or...”

“Yeah, I mean. That you'd stop avoiding me and we can hang out again.”

“Oh,” said Derek quietly. “Listen, I—I forgive you, it's—I'm not that mad at you or anything like that. But—but if you're just apologizing for apologizing's sake? You haven't even done anything that bad, so don't beat yourself up or anything.”

“Oh,” repeated Orrel, hastily running through his own memories of the conversation. He hadn't thought he'd done anything that bad, himself—by the time he was even raising his voice, Derek had already taken off. “All right, so. I, I'll try not to be so—you know. Be so quick to—”

“You don't need to make something up.”

“What? What am I doing, do you think I'm lying to you? I can't—”

“See? Like, I don't mind hanging out with you, but if we can't make sense of each other, there's not much point, is there?”

“You can't make sense of me?”

“I—I mean, with everything that's been going on, the Ministry and—not just all that, there's been other stuff. Just normal Hogwarts stuff, we, we don't have to be as close as we were before this year.”

Orrel nodded, not sure how else to fill the silence.

“Because, like. You have more friends in Ravenclaw, don't you? And other years, now that we're not just ickle first-years trying not to get lost.”

“Of course,” laughed Orrel. “Remember that time we wound up halfway to Gryffindor trying to find my common room! That portrait was so fat!”

Derek nodded. “I remember it, yeah.”

“Okay. But—you're not mad at me?”

“Nah. Just—I don't expect you to keep up with all the stuff I'm doing, I don't need you hanging around all the time, is all.”

“Oh. Sure. I'll let you get dinner.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Sorry if I kept you too long?” he called as Derek made his way upstairs, nodding but not looking back.

Not quite wanting to go to dinner himself, straight from the Hufflepuff basement, Orrel sighed and went back to the library.

---

“Demelza!”

Demelza whirled as Siofra passed her in the hall. “What do youfair, if you're in trouble. I mean, if you're in trouble, you haven't done anything, then there's no point in caring about any of the classes anymore.”

“You thought I was in trouble?”

“You got sent to the head of house's office!”

“Huh. Okay. Listen. Even if you think I'm being too much of an old lady, can we at least not hate each other during practice?”

“What practice? Without Ginny—”

“That's what the meeting was about,” said Demelza. “Ginny's not coming back. I'm captain now.”

Siofra blinked.

“So. Can you at least let me be captain? This involves making sure people take the game seriously.”

“Sure, whatever,” Siofra said. “I was a bit mental, I guess. Life's too short to spend mad at each other, anyway.”

Demelza broke into a grin. “What do you know, maybe Alun did teach you something useful!”

“Oh, him?” shrugged Siofra. “We broke it off.”

“What?”

“He came of age over break, you know. Not that that ever stopped him from doing what he wanted anyway, but apparently he wants to get into other stuff now and I...” she shrugged. “Well, I have other tastes. So I think he's dating some Slytherin looker now, who's more his style.”

“Oh,” said Demelza, and couldn't resist slipping back into mocking. “What are you going to do with all your free time now that you're not snogging him?”

“Well, he's dating her,” Siofra said reflectively, “nothing says we still can't snog...I should ask if he'd be up for it.”

“Siofra!”

“You don't change,” she rolled her eyes. “Even when you’re trying to talk back to Carrow, you shut up.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to point out which students had Muggle parents, was I?”

“She already knows.”

“That’d just give her an excuse to pick on them some more.”

“Guess you’re right,” Siofra admitted. “Ugh. Detention. Let me know when practice is, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Demelza grinned.

---

A piece of parchment tapped Chrysanthemum on the back from behind. She unrolled it.

So Vane isn't fit then?

Rolling her eyes, Chrysanthemum quickly cast a Blurring Hex on the parchment until the ink ran together. Flipping it over, she scrawled Too frilly. Quidditch players like Robins fitter, and handed it back to Asteria.

But doesn't she have nice hair?

Hair nice, not well fit though. After passing that one off, she made a point of hiding her face in her History of Magic textbook, shoving pages into each other with unnecessary force.

Sighing, Asteria continued to study her own textbook, which lasted about ten minutes before she scribbled another note.

Chrysanthemum Vanished the note without reading it. “Not now,” she muttered.

“But it's about goblins!”

She rolled her eyes. “How did we get on the subject of goblins!”

“I want to know whether I should review them or skip that chapter.”

“Maybe you could decide for yourself?”

“Well, are you reviewing them?”

“No, but I also wrote an essay about them in the fall. So I think I'm set for now.”

“You're no help!”

“Excuse me,” glared Madam Pince, “Is there a problem?”

“Of course not,” Chrysanthemum grinned, and they fell quiet again.

“I can't help it,” Asteria shrugged afterwards, as they walked back to the Slytherin common room. “I'm curious, who else am I going to ask?”

“Pellar?”

“I don't know her that well.”

“So make friends with her. Or a boy, there are loads of boys who'd tell you which girls look fit.”

“Huh,” said Asteria. “Well, the boys are all immature.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “Tough.”

---

Orrel shook his head as he closed his Defense textbook. “This is rubbish.”

“Caught on, eh?” Derek smiled from the next library table over.

“I suppose we were never going to learn anything consistent in that class,” Derek shrugged. “You'd think for all we learned about curses they'd have figured out how to identify the one on the job. Remember Umbridge? Ugh.”

Derek nodded. “You going to tell Carrow what you think of his class, then? Or just hope there's someone competent giving the O.W.L.?”

“Neither,” Orrel shrugged, “just keep studying for classes that make sense.”

Derek tilted his head to the side. “You talked back to the other Carrow, that day in Muggle Studies. What was that all about?”

Orrel blushed. “Just—you know. O.W.L.s, that—I wasn't trying to talk back, I just wanted to know.”

“Because O.W.L.s matter to you.”

“Well, yeah.”

Derek shrugged. “So, people care about different things.”

“Sure, but—what?”

“Just—I've found mine, maybe you've found yours too. We're not the same people we were four years ago, that's all right.” At Orrel's quiet face, he forced a smile. “It is! Your eleven-year-old self probably couldn't even lift this book, much less read it.”

“It's what's in your head that counts, though. That and a good Wingardium Leviosa should handle any book this side of the Restricted Section. Besides the dictionary.”

“You couldn't have cast that spell when you first showed up, either.”

Orrel nodded. “I guess I did learn something.” Rummaging through his book bag, he pulled out a Standard Book of Spells and flipped it open at random. “Guess I'd better review those, though.”

“Sounds good.”

“Or—is there something you'd rather study? We can work together if you'd rather.”

“Nah, that's all right,” Derek smiled. “But thanks.”

“Yeah,” Orrel nodded. “You're welcome. Any time you want to, just find me.”

---

Siofra swung her bat and connected with the Bludger, which flew straight. Panicking, Lyra Boothby dodged to her right, the top of her broom dipping upwards as she did. The Bludger hit the top of the broom, sending Lyra whirling forwards and spinning. As the Bludger dropped out of the air, Lyra spun once again to avoid it, and rotated even closer to being fully upside-down.

“Just land!” Demelza yelled, hurtling over. Siofra came forward as well, catching up with the Bludger and knocking it from above. It plunged downwards even as Lyra descended, and the replacement Chaser had turned almost completely over by the time she landed.

“Nice one!” called Siofra, who proceeded to swing the bat and knocked the Bludger towards the far goalposts as Lyra caught her breath.

“Don't give her ideas,” Demelza hissed with gritted teeth, “and in a game, you do not hit the Bludger at our own team.”

“Course not, but she needs extra practice to catch up, doesn't she?”

“Yes, well—you're fine, Lyra. Let's—just stick to Quaffles for now. Siofra, if you want to maybe try and keep them away from Lyra for now while we work on passing?”

Siofra shrugged. “All right.”

Demelza kept an eye on her as play resumed, and was at first pleasantly surprised. Lyra, once she'd been convinced to let Demelza hold on to her wand for safekeeping, was at least a fast flier, and could throw the Quaffle long distances. And the Bludgers were not bothering them.

So Demelza probably wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong, had it not been for an exasperated Jimmy landing. “Siofra, come on—give me a chance?”

“What's going on?” said Demelza.

“She keeps hitting them way too far away, trying to chase down both at once.”

Siofra shrugged. “Captain wants us to keep these away from the rookie. Whoa, hold on!” She rose a few feet higher, then sent one Bludger crashing off the goalpoasts with a loud clang. The momentum carrying her forward, she dove to propel the other one high in the air while hanging upside-down. She righted herself as it sailed back to her, then smacked it through the near posts while a terrified Bobby Glen fell out of the way, in the process making an impromptu save of Lyra's shot.

Demelza rolled her eyes. “You two work together and see if you can keep Bobby and Natalie off-balance for a while.”

“But in a game, we don't hit Bludgers at our own team!”

“Are you just trying to make this difficult?”

“It's fine,” said Jimmy, nodding at the closer Bludger. “You take that Bludger, I'll take this one, race?”

“Giving yourself a head start, eh? Watch this!” Siofra sailed off as Jimmy whirled in the opposite direction.

“Be careful,” Demelza called, though she knew they couldn't hear.

Lyra, however, could. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “Let's try the one-hand pass again.”

---

Through the chaos of the Great Hall, students called to each other. “Hufflepuffs, come along. Is everyone here? First years, there's six of you?” yelled Andrew, a prefect.

“Should be seven,” Derek called back.

“Thanks!”

“No problem—just, get the younger kids under control first, right? Some of the older ones are staying.”

“Yep. Okay, second years, follow me...”

“He's here,” Alun blinked, “he's actuallyhere!”

“Yeah,” said Siofra. “Do—are you coming?”

“And miss the fight? No, you go. I—I like a little adventure, you know?”

“You said we've been doomed all year, you can't get killed for nothing!”

Alun shook his head. “Potter's here, we just might have a fighting chance.”

Siofra nodded and gulped.

“Give Tracey a kiss from me!”

Siofra rolled her eyes. “Sure thing...”

“Where are we going?” asked a young Slytherin.

“Ssh, hurry up,” said another. “We're leaving Hogwarts.”

“Like an escape?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“Let's get brooms and fly away really fast.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Chrysanthemum raised her eyebrows as Asteria approached. “You see the problem?”

“Claudius. So nice to see you again,” Asteria said coolly.

“Who're you?” said the first-year.

“My name's Asteria.”

“Where's my wand? I don't have my wand.”

“Come on,” said Chrysanthemum.

“You can do a summons, go get it.”

“Let's keep going...”

“I take it Slytherin-Hufflepuff is off for tomorrow, then?” Jimmy grinned.

Demelza rolled her eyes. “Where've you been?”

“Er, running late. But hey, Dennis' brother has an idea. Listen up...”

A Hufflepuff seventh-year budged past, several Ravenclaws scattering. “Keep an eye on this crowd," said Orrel to his fellow prefect, Mariana, as he dropped back a few steps. “Hey! You!”

As the seventh-year barged through several members of his own house, a first-year called out, “Hex him!”

“Dock him points!” called another.

“Can't do that,” Orrel said quickly. “You guys. Look around. Is everyone you were walking with still there? Everyone? Okay, good, let's keep going...”

They made their way to a room which Asteria had never seen before. There were banners hanging from the walls—Gryffindor's scarlet and gold, Hufflepuff's black and yellow, and Ravenclaw's bronze and blue. She glanced around, but saw no sign of Slytherin house. Daphne, who had caught up with her, bent down and whispered, “They've got the Chamber of Secrets lark all wrong, the others must have built some secret room and left Slytherin out!”

“What Chamber of Secrets lark?” blinked Asteria.

“Never mind, you're too young. C'mon.”

They descended a long way through a tunnel—they'd climbed up to the seventh floor or so, Asteria remembered, so of course it would have to be a long way down whichever way they were going. Still, she'd lost her bearings. “Do you know where we're going?”

“I'm not sure. I think there's a Portkey.”

But there was no Portkey, simply a dirty, deserted bar. Asteria tried to get her bearings, but was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey, who had magically amplified her voice. “I will begin by Side-Along Apparating students to those homes I am familiar with. If I call your name, please make your way forward. Everyone will be evacuated, whether to your own house or somewhere else. Remain calm, and prefects, keep track of your houses. Now. Are the Joneses here...the Quirkes...Greengrasses?”

Daphne gripped Asteria's hand.

“I'm here,” said Asteria, “let's go.”

“Get back!” hissed Orrel, as a young boy poked his head out from behind the bar.

“But I'm hungry.”

“Ssh. It'll be okay, we'll get back to Hogwarts soon.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Okay. Well. Do—do you want to pray? Do you want to—”

“I'll pray,” he said, “by myself.”

Orrel nodded as the younger boy made his way to an empty table and sat down, sweaty hands clasped together. Silently, Orrel added his own pleas. It was all very well and good to trust in the limitless power of God; the trouble came when he wasn't quite sure of the limits of his enemies.

Continuing his and please bless the teachers and Pomfrey and Filch ands, he turned towards the other students, making sure no one else was sneaking behind the bar. They weren't, but a Ravenclaw second-year was shivering against a wall, trying not to cry.

“Er, hullo,” he said, pacing over.

“Leave me alone,” she sniffed.

Orrel blinked, taking a step backward.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts,” he sang, half under his breath, “teach us something. Please.”

He continued, and a crowd of fourth-years eventually joined in, singing boisterously (and about twice his tempo) to earn themselves a glare from Filch.

“Just do your best, we'll do the rest,” sang Orrel as the fourth-years took it from the top.

“Hey,” smiled Chrysanthemum.

“What's going on?”

“Nothing. Just, you're the one who calmed my brother down?” she nodded at Claudius, still sitting at the table. “I thought he'd tear the place apart.”

Orrel shrugged. “Well, I am a wizard.”

“Chambers,” called Madam Pomfrey, “Jewkes, Harris.”

“That's me,” shrugged Chrysanthemum. “Come on, Claudius, let's go home.”

Siofra lived across the Irish Sea, and would not be Apparated home; instead, she joined several other Gryffindors in a safe house that Madam Pomfrey had known about. “You are not to leave the main sitting room,” she declared as she took the first group of remaining first-years with her.

Siofra nodded distractedly, glancing around. By then there were very few students left—after everyone Madam Pomfrey had known where to send went home, they had been sorted and sent to larger sites by house. Simon and his brother had been gone for a while, though Natalie was still there. Siofra made a note to ask Demelza when Madam Pomfrey had seen her house—maybe even the cautious captain had gotten into a decent-sized scrape, once.

She didn't know where they wound up. It was a nice room, covered in a bright rug and featuring elaborate tapestries—mostly unicorns and dragons. Slowly, she paced the edge of the sitting room.

“You're not supposed to leave,” said Natalie coolly.

“I know. But is there a wireless or anything? We have to know what's going on!”

Natalie's eyes darted around the room. “There!”

In two paces, Siofra was on top of it, but all she could hear was static interrupted by Celestina Warbeck. “Ugh. No thank you,” she said, turning it off.

Then there was nothing but to wait.

---

Asteria knew something was different about an hour before anyone came. Her mother had come down for breakfast, but as she was eating, she gave a violent tremor and spilled her food. A quick charm restored the breakfast. Instead of eating it, though, she walked around the room, blinking.

“What's wrong?” Daphne called.

“Nothing,” their mother blinked. “I feel...awake. Like I just woke up.”

“You...did just wake up,” Asteria pointed out.

“No. Like a curse has come off, then.”

“But no one's been hexing you.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I'll check myself into St. Mungo's, maybe?”

“You can't go to St. Mungo's, there's been some kind of a fight at Hogwarts, the place will be full.”

“Well, at least I can get in line, and if the line's too long I'll ask someone at the Ministry when I go into work.”

“Be careful,” said Daphne.

But she departed without incident, and the next hour passed normally. Only when Asteria had decided on going back to sleep was there a knock at the door. Wand at the ready, Daphne opened it an inch.

“Daphne!” called Tracey Davis, one of her classmates. “Come back! Voldemort's dead! We won!”

“What?” blinked Daphne. “'We'?”

“Voldemort's dead, we're rounding up Death Eaters. It's safe now, you should come back.”

“Voldemort?” Asteria repeated. “Voldemort, Voldemort—the curse is off now, you can say the name! The magic broke!”

“Yeah, but that doesn't explain—weren't you supposed to evacuate?” said Daphne

“Well, er, Slughorn was hanging around and a few of us—look, never mind, just come back!”

Daphne glanced at Asteria. “What do we do? Leave Mum a note? Busy rounding up stray Death Eaters, send an owl?”

“Could be a trap,” shrugged Asteria. “We should stop by St. Mungo's and explain.”

“Your mum's at the hospital?” asked Tracey. “Is she all right?”

“Er, she says she's fine,” said Daphne. “Better than she's been in a while, just—different, more awake somehow.”

Tracey squinted. “Could be the Imperius Curse, taken off if they killed someone casting it.”

“Who'd want to Imperius our mum, though?” Asteria asked.

“She works at the Ministry, could be anyone,” said Daphne. “Tell you what, I'll drop you off outside Hogwarts and then go tell Mum because—”

“—you're all grown up and can Apparate,” Asteria rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“I'm gonna find Millicent,” nodded Tracey. “See you back at Hogwarts, yeah?”

Daphne nodded, and they were off.

Asteria made her way in from the Apparition boundary quickly, ready to join the party, wherever it was. She was ready, too, for Daphne to be there—families were huddling together wherever she looked, and she almost bowled over a pale seventh-year seeking out his parents. Muttering her apologies, she continued until noticing another family clustered together.

She raised her hand and smiled. “Hullo, Chrysanthemum...Claudius.”

“Hi, Asteria. Is your sister—” Chrysanthemum broke off.

Asteria raised her eyebrows. “She's looking for my mum.”

“Where's your—what happened?”

“She went to St. Mungo's, they think maybe she was under a curse that got broken.”

“Oh! So—so they're both all right, then?”

Asteria nodded.

“Come sit with us,” said Mr. Jewkes.

“Is there—do I have to check in or anything? The place looks a mess.”

Chrysanthemum shrugged. “Not that I know.”

“We can worry about that later,” said Mrs. Jewkes. “We're here, we're together. That's all that matters right now.” She squeezed Claudius into a tighter hug.

Asteria caught Chrysanthemum's eye and gave an encouraging nod. “That's all that matters,” she repeated.

Not now, Chrysanthemum mouthed, but...thanks. Out loud, she spoke. “I wonder if we can get breakfast...”


“Tergeo.”

The huge staircase was covered in dust, and bits and pieces had fallen off.

“Tergeo!”

The wand came down in a sharp, furious, jab, as if the entire step was meant to vanish along with the dark bloodstain.

“Tergeo!”

But nothing went away.

“TERGEO! TERGEO TERGEO TER—”

“Does that even work when it's not on skin?”

Orrel looked down to see a couple of second-years. “Yeah,” he said. “It should. Can't focus my magic right now.”

“There's breakfast,” said another, “do you want some? Or you can go to bed, there's people sleeping.”

Orrel shook his head. “I—I want to help.”

“Help?” she shrugged. “You already did help us.”

“I was just doing what the teachers said.”

“Well, thanks.”

“You sang songs, that was nice. I bet the teachers didn't tell you that.”

“Well—er—no, that was me.”

“You were trying to help us not worry,” said the first, “that's what Derek used to do.”

Orrel sank onto the stairs, a layer of dust rising up from the impact, and began to cry. Derek should have been there at the Hog's Head, guarding the little kids like he'd been doing all year, not dead in a war he didn't know how to fight. What was he going to do, throw powder at the Death Eaters?

“Do you want to sleep?”

“I—I'm not tired,” he stammered. “I want to help out.”

“It's gonna take a lot of people working together, you don't have to do it by yourself.”

Slowly, Orrel hauled himself up what was left of the steps. They would have gone their separate ways, he knew, but it still wasn't fair. For all he could still achieve, he could never live up to Derek and Derek just couldn't live.

---

Though the Great Hall itself seemed full of people scattered across the tables or across the floor, the sky above it was a bright, uninterrupted blue. Siofra looked up and took a moment to catch her breath before walking on. She would mourn for everyone she had known, but once she had seen the scale of the bloodshed, she knew not to expect too much.

She would not be completely surprised to find Alun dead. He had not lived that year expecting to live long, anyway—Voldemort's death would have caught him by surprise, the wide-open future seeming more than he knew what to do with after frenzied months of partying. True, he had never suggested that Siofra herself ignore McGonagall's age warnings. But he had seen her first as a Quidditch player, perhaps one who understood that some rules were worth following.

She had not gotten her hopes up for Jimmy, either. His friends the Creeveys weren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts, but Colin had somehow made it back against the rules, just for the sake of the fight. If he'd gotten around all of the Ministry, McGonagall was hardly going to faze him, and Jimmy—who'd just turned fifteen himself—could all too easily tag along as they snuck back in.

She was surprised to find Demelza.

Still gripping her wand, eyes open, she had been felled by a curse that left no scar. Siofra crouched lower as if to be sure of what she was seeing. Why had Demelza turned around? Demelza, who had been so worried about her! It wasn't supposed to be that way, she thought, but could not speak. Around her, she was suddenly aware of voices, of the Hall being full. She tried to take a step forward, unsure whether she could face her teammates but desperately hopeful they would be there for her. But her feet refused to move, and instead she stumbled to her knees, her back to the world and the brilliant sky.

---

Chrysanthemum could not get an easy O in Muggle Studies, after all. Not at N.E.W.T. Level, when the steady trust that she would have a future, that everything would be okay, had replaced the urgency of needing to prove herself.

With the respectful, even awed, textbooks she'd read in her third and fourth years on one hand, and the laughable lies of her fifth year on the other, she gave up and decided the best way to study Muggle life would be by reading Muggle books themselves. She tried some novels, but they were confusing. Not even Muggles agreed on what they meant. She eventually decided to pursue an independent research project, and learned all about the periodic table of elements well enough to present to a group of examiners.

Asteria helped her practice. “Just pretend you're giving the test, and ask me a question, right?”

“In the middle of it? Or when you get to the end?”

“End of a section, maybe. I'll ask you.”

“Okay.”

“...and so, you see, over here, look at this, right? The noble gases are, er, they're the ones on the far edge, right? Because of how many electrons they have, they don't interact with anything?”

“Chrysanthemum?”

“Yeah?”

“What's an atom?”

The examiners' questions were almost as deep, and Chrysanthemum got her O.

She was not top of her year, however. Orrel would quickly recover his skill with a wand, and while his spellcasting was fine, he truly excelled when it was just himself and his parchment. Astronomy and Arithmancy, went well, although his best subject was Ancient Runes. “Isn't that difficult?” people would ask.

He shook his head no. “It's just—magic, once you think about the word etymologies from Latin and all it's really pretty easy. Things—shouldn't change, over time. It's just the same.”

Orrel earned three Outstanding N.E.W.T.s. He was not top of their class either. That honor went to Paul Clark, a Muggle-born Hufflepuff who was a year older than them and had missed his sixth year the first time around.

During her last year at Hogwarts, Siofra appointed herself chief party-thrower as Natalie led the Lions to a perfect season. Siofra herself had not returned to the Quidditch team. It was just a game, really, and when there were secret passageways to explore and a lake to wade in games could come and go.

She glanced into the lake as the little boats carried them across to board the train. Across from her, Chrysanthemum and Asteria were sitting side by side, their bookbags at their feet. Orrel had turned to get a last look at the fading castle. They were the first class to leave school in the new millennium, a class too large and too small.

---

“And you're liking your electives okay?”

“Yeah. Ancient Runes is brilliant—you know, we don't get to pick those until third year, right?”

“Of course.”

“So she's into Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, but I'm in Ancient Runes and Divination—it's nice that there's some classes I'm not racing her in, you know. Course, there's always Arithmancy—we have five Galleons riding on this year's O.W.L.s.”

“It sounds like you're really good friends, then.”

“Yeah. I—Earlier this year, when I was still—sorting everything out, about liking blokes, Rose was great about it, just let me talk things through.”

“Are your parents—”

“They're fine, I mean, they know now, and of course they're fine and everything. I mean, they're just, they're my parents, I don't want to have to tell them everything at first go.”

Chrysanthemum smiled. “I understand.”

Asteria came walking back into the living room. “The pie's just about done, sorry it's running late, we were all out of flour.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Did Dad try to bake again?”

Chrysanthemum raised her eyebrows. “Is this frequent in your house?”

“Yes,” said Scorpius fervently.

“Scorpius, you're away at school most of the year, it's gotten better—” Asteria began.

“No. It actually hasn't.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Chrysanthemum. “It's good to see you again.”

Asteria smiled. “Of course. You know you're always welcome.”

---

With the retirement of Professor Vaughan, some suspected that Professor Trask would take up the role of Deputy Head as a fast-track to eventual Headship. When this proved not to be the case, some were surprised.

But not Professor Trask. “Oh, goodness no. I'm an academic at heart.”

They had wondered, long ago, whether it had been a good idea for him to become a professor. Why not stay in the private sector, keep translating for contract, rather than pen himself within the ivory towers and moving staircases?

Gently but firmly, he had said no. Whatever risks there were in the academic life, his problems did not come from staying inside Hogwarts. Even leaving Hogwarts had, perhaps, been a mistake long before.

“I don't want to be the Head,” he repeated. “Goodness, the bureaucracy takes away from my translation work.”

It wasn't that he didn't care about being honored. He did. He tracked the sales of his books and read what other people were publishing and penned rebuttals that were issued in newsletters. In the small world of runic translation, his name and his work were well-known.

But he didn't want the bureaucracy. Not the dealing with the governors. Not leading the staff meetings. And certainly not the responsibility of watching dozens of students every year, trying to learn who all of them really were at heart, and then picking out eight at a time to wear badges they had never asked for.

---

Outside a small house in western Ireland, a thunderstorm raged on. The summer storms were violent, but not altogether unpredictable—there were changes in the air that could be felt, before the storm came on. Some in the color of the sky, to be seen by all. Others in the weight of the air, sensed by old bones that had been broken and set right, but not quite set back where they had been.

And sometimes, predicting the storms seemed to require magic.

And on those wild nights when the rain was all that could be heard, magic could come in fits and starts and there was nothing to be gained from waving a wand. Then an old woman would squint across the room at a photograph on the mantle. From far away, in fading light, the two girls there stood still.

But then the younger Siofra's hand flickered, as if to reach for a scarf that would bind her and her friend together.


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