Chapter 1

Hawkins

September 1st, 2013

Tyriana Gallagher marched her cart of luggage down platform nine of King's Cross station, walking with purpose. There was an excited spring in her step and her legs were moving fast but, as she was only five feet tall, her noticeably taller parents were easily able to keep pace with her.

Tyriana had a bearing of determination and fortitude. She appeared to be far more of a force to be reckoned with than her stature would suggest. She had an athletic build and moved confidently.

Her chestnut-brown hair hung just past shoulder-length. While it naturally took the form of a disheveled mess (she'd been told that she actually looked quite good that way), today she'd tamed her mane into gentle, flowing waves. She had several notable facial features, the first and foremost being her bright eyes. Her glacier blue irises were unusually large and tended to shimmer whenever light fell upon them. It was rare for her to go a single day without receiving compliments on how mesmerizing her eyes were. She also had a strong and rather square jawline that gave her the look of someone not to be crossed, although her chin was a bit softer. She did have a tendency to tilt her head up a bit to assertively bare her jaw during arguments, but this could also be attributed to the fact that everybody she argued with was noticeably taller than her.

Her cheekbones were pleasant and she got dimples when she smiled. Her lips — particularly the lower one — were naturally full and plump. Today she was sporting a determined expression, and this was hardly unusual for her. Sometimes her face seemed to be permanently molded that way.

"I'm sure you'll do great," her mother said as they walked down platform nine. "Just relax."

"I am relaxed, Mum," she said.

"I highly doubt that," her mother mumbled under her breath.

They reached the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters and, looking both ways, casually slipped through the intangible wall. The familiar sight of the Hogwarts Express greeted them on the other side, its striking red color looking as vibrant as ever. Smoke billowed from the engine.

Tyriana led her parents towards the train, weaving her way through the throngs of other students and their parents.

"You said something about a special carriage?" her father asked.

"Yes. The Prefect's Carriage is at the front of the train, right behind the engine. Here it is." Her father knew the drill by now, after seven years, and when she parked the cart he lifted her trunk up into the carriage. It was an easy task for him; her parents were the proud owners of a gym and the whole family was in excellent shape. Tyriana hugged them and boarded the train with one last wave.

She'd arrived pretty early; the carriage was virtually empty. As the freshly appointed Head Girl, she had thought it prudent to be punctual. Wheeling her trunk behind her, she groaned when she saw that, as with other carriages on the train, the luggage was to be stored on overhead racks. Looking up at the daunting height of them, she realized that she should have kept her father around for at least a couple more minutes.

Tyriana wasn't one to shrink from a challenge, though, so she hefted her trunk as high as she could. The weight wasn't much of a problem but her diminutive height certainly was. Even on her tippy-toes, the rack was just out of reach.

A large hand entered her field of vision, grasping her trunk and lifting it the rest of the way.

"Thanks," she said, lowering her arms and turning to see who had assisted her. It was a sixth or seventh year boy boy with a pleasantly muscular build and a charming face, although he seemed a little too put together; a little too confident in his attractiveness. Probably a total narcissist who expects his jawline and cheekbones will get him anything he wants, she thought.

"Any time," he said. "In fact, let me know if you need help getting it back down when we get to Hogwarts."

That was a move she hadn't expected. "Thanks," she repeated.

"What's your name?"

"Tyriana Gallagher," she said, seeing no harm in telling him.

"I know you from somewhere," he said, his forehead furrowing. "You're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?"

Tyriana nodded. "I'm also the Captain. What's your name?"

"Caden. Caden Weiss. I'm in Hufflepuff."

"Pleased to meet you, Caden. I take it you're a prefect?"

He nodded. "You too?"

"Nope. I'm your new boss. Head Girl."

He took a step back, looking impressed. "Head Girl and Quidditch Captain?"

She nodded.

"Good luck balancing all of that, Tyriana."

"Thanks," she said for the third time. Spotting Professor Slughorn around Caden, she excused herself from the conversation and presented herself smartly to the Deputy Headmaster.

"Ah, Tyriana, you're early," said the equally elderly and corpulent wizard. Fishing around in a bag he was carrying, he said, "I have something here for you: your Head Girl badge." He handed it to her after a moment of searching.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. "I'm honored."

"I suggest you put on your robes and pin it on right away."

"I will, Professor." Tyriana retreated over to her trunk, feeling Caden's gaze follow her. She pulled out her neatly-folded robes, put them on over her blouse and jeans, then pinned her badge proudly on her chest. She'd hardly finished when she heard Slughorn's voice speaking to someone.

"...say how proud I am of your achievement. Being Head Boy is a big deal."

Wondering who the Head Boy was, Tyriana turned to look. Her jaw dropped.

It was Julian Hawkins, the Slytherin Seeker.

Tyriana's heart sunk. Her greatest fear had been that the Head Boy would be a Slytherin. As a Gryffindor, she didn't perceive getting along with a Slytherin to be anywhere within the realm of possibility. Why can't he be a bloody Ravenclaw or even a Hufflepuff? This might just ruin my year, she thought.

Tyriana watched, horrified, as he accepted his badge from Slughorn, pinned it onto his robes, and shook the Deputy Headmaster's hand. Hawkins turned and made eye contact with her. Somehow, his gaze seemed to pierce her soul and the look of cunning intelligence gleaming in his eyes gave her the sense that he could somehow read her mind. Seeing her mostly identical badge, he made his way over.

Hawkins held out his hand. "It's been a long time, Tyriana. I think we last met on the Quidditch field, yes?"

She did her best to look smug as she reluctantly shook his hand, the skin of her palm crawling with revulsion in his grasp. "As I recall, I caught the Snitch."

"But Slytherin won the game and the Quidditch Cup." He smirked as she grimaced. Arrogant Slytherin asshole, she thought. Clearly he knew, as many of her peers did, that Quidditch meant everything to her. She took the sport even more seriously than her academics, which was saying a lot.

"This year's going to be different." She gave him her most intimidating glare. This was usually particularly formidable, especially considering her stature.

"That's right," he said, unaffected. His acceptance of her statement threw her off until he added, "This is going to be the tenth year in a row that Slytherin has won. That's a momentous occasion, I think." He finally released her hand, and she hastily withdrew it and wiped it discreetly on the inside of her robes. He must've noticed, because his next words were, "You know, Tyriana, I'm not actually a slimy snake. Just like you're not a lion. If you were, I might add, you'd be the smallest adult lion anybody's ever seen."

She snarled. "You know, Seekers are supposed to have excellent vision and situational awareness. I can't help but wonder how you became one seeing as how you still haven't realized that you're blocking the aisle."

He looked around and saw that she was correct. There was a line of prefects behind him, some hiding their frustration better than others as they held their heavy luggage and waited for him to move. "Until next time, then Gallagher." He gave her a mocking salute and moved to stow his trunk at the opposite end of the carriage.

She kept an eye on him, her blood boiling, as he hoisted his trunk up onto the rack without any assistance, although he did have to stretch a bit to do so. Like many Seekers, Hawkins was pretty small. She estimated that he was about five-foot-eight, although that was still enough to make him a giant compared to her.

She'd already made the decision to solely refer to him as Hawkins, since the Quidditch commentators always used his last name and he was her enemy. Their rivalry on the Quidditch pitch had just grown to encompass so much more than who caught the Snitch first, but she'd keep thinking of him in the same way she always had. Furthermore, if she thought of him as Julian it became significantly more difficult to ignore that he was decently attractive. Her friends would have said that his brown hair was to die for and his face certainly had a pleasant and masculine shape to it, although she thought he seemed to be perpetually wearing an arrogant smirk. As she had previously observed, his steel blue eyes seemed capable of piercing her soul and extracting even her innermost thoughts.

Tyriana knew that she couldn't be on a first-name basis with Hawkins; he had to be nothing more than an acquaintance that she was being forced to associate with. He was an obstacle and nothing more. She'd always performed the best in the face of direct competition.

She recalled the previous year's Quidditch results and the frustration that had consumed her for weeks afterwards. Gryffindor's season total had been just ten points — one score with the Quaffle — shy of Slytherin's. We were so close to beating the snake-loving bastards that who hadn't lost the Quidditch Cup in eight years. Now it is a nine year streak, and this year it could become ten if we don't stop them, she thought. We are going to stop them. It was a sentence that had been echoing through her head all summer break. She'd spent months studying, strategizing and practicing in preparation for her last, and hopefully best, season. She'd also invested the majority of her money in what she hoped would be a game changer: the brand new Firebolt Supreme. She'd been sure to get one of the first production models. She doubted anyone else at Hogwarts had one. Last she'd checked, Hawkins used a Nimbus 2010.

The carriage was rapidly filling up. She pulled up the sleeve of her robe and glanced at her watch. It was 10:57 AM. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving King's Cross in three minutes. Despite the recent revelation that Hawkins was the Head Boy, she couldn't stop a fresh wave of excitement from washing over her. It was her seventh and final time taking the train to Hogwarts. She spent a moment reminiscing on the many wondrous memories she'd had, from when Professor McGonagall had first shown up at her doorstep and stunned her Muggle parents with the news that their daughter was a witch to her most recent Quidditch match against Ravenclaw near the end of the preceding year where she'd caught the Snitch in almost record time. If only I'd given the Chasers enough time to score one more goal we could've tied with Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup, she thought. Throwing the memory aside — she'd already relived that moment and felt the accompanying pang of guilt enough times over the summer months — she returned her attention to the present just in time to see Professor Slughorn approaching with Hawkins in tow.

"Miss Gallagher, I trust that you have familiarized yourself with your duties?"

"I have, Professor."

"Excellent. Once the train leaves the station I suggest that you and Hawkins begin immediately."

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

The elderly wizard rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. I'm afraid I've got to get going. As this will be my last year at Hogwarts it seems fitting that I take the time to assemble the most distinguished Slug Club I've ever had. That may be difficult without the likes of Harry Potter," he chuckled. "I suppose I will have to settle for quantity over quality, eh?"

"This is your last year at Hogwarts, sir?" Hawkins asked.

"It is. I'm afraid my heart tells me it is time to retire, and for good this time."

"Good luck, then, Professor." Hawkins and Slughorn shook hands, and Tyriana was disconcerted by how respectful the Head Boy was being. Why can't he behave like that with me? Of course, it's all probably just an act. Sucking up to the teachers. Probably the only way he has decent grades.

"I hope you have a wonderful year and an excellent retirement, sir," she said, also shaking Slughorn's hand.

"Thank you, you two. I'll be off, then."

Slughorn waddled out of the carriage, heading for the back of the train.

Hardly ten seconds after he'd left, the train lurched and began to leave the station. Tyriana and Hawkins exchanged glances.

"Let's wait to get started until they're ready to listen," Hawkins advised, nodding to the twenty-four prefects, most of whom had gathered by the windows to wave to their families. After the station had disappeared from sight, Hawkins moved to the front of the carriage and loudly announced, "Prefects, can I have your attention up here, please?"

Eager to please on their first day, the prefects obeyed.

"I'm Julian Hawkins of Slytherin and I'm the Head Boy."

Not wanting to allow Hawkins to be the one to introduce her, she stepped up next to him and announced, "I'm Tyriana Gallagher of Gryffindor and I'm the Head Girl."

Hawkins clapped his hands together. "I'm going to make this quick and efficient because we have a train to patrol. Raise your hands if you've been a prefect before."

A good number — a little over half, Tyriana estimated — raised their hands.

"Brilliant. I expect that you were briefed last year or the year before and already know your duties for today so I'm not going to hold you here." He pointed aft. "Time to start patrolling the train."

Tyriana watched, dumbfounded, as almost two-thirds of the Prefects filed out of the carriage. She had not expected such competent — perhaps even masterful — leadership out of a Slytherin. All of her experiences with that house were unpleasant and she had more than enough memories of being bullied by them. In fact, she recalled receiving several very hurtful comments regarding her "mudblood" ancestry from Hawkins himself in her second year.

Now nine prefects remained, and Tyriana recognized a few of them. Not wanting to be left out, she made a point of being the one to explain to them the responsibilities of a prefect both on the train and in the castle. She fully expected Hawkins to react bitterly to being upstaged but, to her surprise, he merely listened and nodded along as she hit each of the main points they'd both studied.

By the end of her speech, she'd forgotten that it was Hawkins standing next to her and she was horrified to find herself asking him politely if she'd missed anything.

"I think that sums it up," he said. "I suspect the troublemakers feel safe now that the first wave of prefects have swept through. It's time for you guys to prove that you're worthy of those shiny badges and catch them in the act."

Looking highly motivated, the new prefects set off and left Tyriana alone with Hawkins. She eyed him with a grudging respect. "That was impressive."

He shrugged. "Leadership is one of the qualities that Slytherin house values. Jealous?"

She pretended that his jab hadn't hit anywhere close to home. "Not in the slightest. I just appreciate a good leader when I see one."

Tyriana didn't realize that she'd complimented him until he said, "Thanks."

She berated herself for that lapse.

"You know what I find amusing?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Tyriana braced herself for the worst insult he could invent. "What?"

"You insisted on briefing them for a job that you've never done. I've been a prefect for the last two years. That should've been me."

"Well, congratulations, showoff. As I recall, you did nothing but nod as I hit the nail on the head."

His forehead furrowed as she said the last phrase. "What?"

"It's a Muggle expression. Of course you wouldn't be familiar with it. I meant that I did a great job."

"I said that you did a good job of summing it up. Reading and memorizing a few pages is never a substitute for experience," he countered.

"Maybe you should tell our professors that and they'd stop assigning meaningless homework."

He chuckled and changed the subject. "Are you excited for this year?"

"Of course. I absolutely love Hogwarts but I'm eager to see what the real world has to offer when I graduate. And then, of course, there's Quidditch. You should start preparing to lose now."

He chuckled but otherwise ignored her jab.

"What about you?" she asked.

He casually leaned back against the wall behind him, his eyes thoughtfully scanning the empty carriage before settling comfortably back on hers. "I feel just about the same way. Say, do you want to join me in the third wave?"

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking that we'd patrol the train, too. Leading by example, you know?"

"I would like to lead by example," she admitted, "But not with you."

To his credit, he managed to look genuinely hurt by that. "You're so hostile."

"Speak for yourself," she growled, heading aft on her own accord. He hurried after her.

As she made her way into the next carriage and began weaving her way through the crowded aisle between compartments, she heard him drawl from behind her, "Merlin's beard, Gallagher, you're so short you look like you're drowning in this crowd."

"Shut up, Hawkins."

"We'd be going twice as fast if you let me lead. You're terrible at clearing paths."

"I thought I said I didn't want you to come along?"

"I couldn't listen to that. Frankly, I'd be bored to death right now if pushing your buttons wasn't so bloody entertaining." She could picture the smirk on his face without even seeing it.

"I'm warning you, Hawkins…"

"What're you going to do?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Are you planning to jump on me like a little monkey?"

"You think that's funny now," she growled. "The thing about you purebloods is that you're so used to magic solving all your problems that you don't actually know how to use your fists."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him unconsciously put a bit more distance between them. She grinned, triumph coursing through her body.

"Calm down, Gallagher," he said. "Can you imagine how bad it would look if the Head Girl punched the Head Boy in the first ten minutes of duty?"

She shrugged. "It wouldn't look that bad if it was justified. Wishing you hadn't pushed my buttons now?"

"Not in the slightest."

She stopped suddenly, and Hawkins ran into her back.

"What did you stop for?"

She pointed at one of the compartments, where two fourth years, one male and one female, were yelling at each other. "I'll try to diffuse this. You keep going."

Hawkins nodded.

Tyriana slid the compartment door open. The two arguing students and two others (who'd scooted as far away as possible) looked up. "Hi," she said in the most friendly tone that she could muster. "I'm Tyriana Gallagher, the Head Girl. I heard some yelling. Can I help resolve the situation?"

As she quickly discovered, the two arguers were dating and had come into disagreement over how each other were allowed to interact with members of the opposite gender. The boy seemed to believe it was perfectly reasonable for him to request that his girlfriend stay away from other guys — even if she was friends with them — but it was ridiculous for her to counter by asking him to do the same. The girl believed that both of them should be fine with each other socializing with any member of the opposing gender, as long as the interaction wasn't romantic in nature.

Tyriana immediately sided with the girl, although she did her best to be a neutral arbiter. After ten minutes she managed to get both parties on the same page and left feeling satisfied with her handling of the conflict. This isn't so difficult after all.