"Jones! In my office, quickly."

"On my way, sir!" I call out, huffing as I secure a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. I swear, the stress of this job will be the end of me.

"Lia! Do you need me to come with you?" Hestia, my younger sister who is interning with us at the Daily Prophet offices, asks.

I pause for a moment. "Yes, wait- no. I don't know, do whatever," I splutter, tripping over my own words. It has been one hell of a week and I am falling apart at the seams.

As I hurry to see what our editor-in-chief, Mr. Cuffe, needs me for, I see Hestia out of the corner of my eye, scrambling to follow me. I smirk and roll my eyes as she stumbles into a chair, but otherwise do not react. No time, must tend to the man who signs my paychecks.

"Sir?" I say when I arrive at his door. Papers are haphazardly flying around the room, enchanted quills scribbling down only Merlin knows what. Hestia skids to a stop behind me and gazes around, taking in the chaos.

When he sees me, Mr. Cuffe motions for me to take a seat in front of his desk. "Please sit, Jones.. erm- Joneses," he says, seeing Hestia behind me, "I have an assignment for you."

"This is a bit of a unique assignment. While we usually only cover big league Quidditch matches, I want you, Thalia," Mr. Cuffe looks me in the eye, "to go to Hogwarts for the upcoming House Cup final. It's Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Sources say it will be a truly worthwhile match." He gives me a pointed look and I wonder who his sources are. He glances at Hestia briefly. "You too, Hestia. I think this is a good opportunity for you, as you're not only the youngest in the office currently but an aspiring writer. It gives you a chance to really get out there and see how it's done, of course, on a smaller but nevertheless legitimate scale."

"Y-yes sir! Thank you, sir!" Hestia stammers, eyes wide with excitement. I smile at her reaction, and nod my assent to Mr. Cuffe.

"Wonderful! So it's settled. I'll send the details to your desk, Thalia."

A week later, I'm sitting in the stands at none other than Hogwarts. I sigh as I look around me, scanning the faces of the countless students and numerous faculty members sitting around me. Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia sweeps over me and I sigh as I remember those chilly, windy afternoons spent sitting here during my own Hogwarts years. Now, I am back yet again, but without the people who originally made these games special for me.

"Jones," a flat voice drawls from behind me.

I turn to see who it is and am beyond shocked to meet the pale face of none other than Severus Snape. Albeit it being more than a decade since I last saw him, there was no mistaking the dark, stringy hair, hollow, black eyes, and hooked nose. I would recognize that man anytime, anywhere.

"Snape," I reply, my tone attempting to remain indifferent yet bordering on a downright snarl. I narrow my own eyes when I see his brighten with amusement at my response. He did always love getting a rise out of me, or any Gryffindor for that matter.

"Fancy seeing you here, after all this time. It's a wonder you've managed to stay away for this long," he muses, his thin lips turning up at the corners.

You're damn lucky that I have, otherwise you'd be rotting somewhere deep within the Forbidden Forest. I would hang you by those greasy locks you call hair and-

"Thalia! Look! They're about to start!" Hestia cries out excitedly, drawing me from my thoughts. I immediately focus; I'm here to work. I pull my notepad from my bag and prepare to take notes.

"Welcome welcome! It's the match we've all been waiting for! Today, Slytherin and Gryffindor compete for the prestigious House Cup!" the commentator, a scrawny Hufflepuff lad, excitedly calls out.

Lily probably would've said the poor bloke was only commentating because he didn't make the team, being as thin as an actual broomstick, I think to myself. Merlin, snap out of it. Don't do this here. I blink away tears that were prickling at the corners of my eyes.

They're gone. They've been gone. Keep yourself together.

"Now, our players! On Slytherin, Captain Jeremiah Blishwick, and his fellow Chasers, Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague," broomstick-thin kid calls out as the players begin flying out onto the pitch. "Beaters, Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole!"

"Peregrine? Like, as in, a bird?" Hestia giggles from beside me. "What kind of parents name their child after a bird? No wonder the lad's in Slytherin, he's probably bitter about his name." I roll my eyes but inwardly am grateful for her distracting moment of pure immaturity.

After lightweight lad announces the remaining Slytherin players, I brace myself, knowing that the Gryffindor team is next. Recalling my time as a player, I half expect to hear my own name being called as a Chaser, along with... Stay in check, Jones, you're a grown woman, here on a job. You're not a student anymore. It's all in the past.

I zone out a bit as the commentator begins announcing the new players and for a moment, I panic, remembering I need to record these names for the article. However, one glance at Hestia reassures me, as I see her eagerly taking notes.

I almost choke when a boy with unruly, jet black hair and spectacles soars out onto the pitch, wearing a familiar smile on his lightly tanned face.

"...and lastly, here's Potter!" the Hufflepuff commentator shouts, receiving an excited uproar from the crowd.

"James?" I whisper almost soundlessly, eyes wide and trained on the lean figure as he laps the field with ease. My heart pounds in my chest when he looks out over the stands in my general direction and I finally get a good look at his face. His eyes. Her eyes.

They're green. Lily. Harry Potter.

"Another round of applause for our favorite Captain and Seeker, Harry Potter!" The crowd goes wild and Harry reddens at the response, clearly embarrassed and not one to boast. Yeah, that's definitely not James, I allow myself to smirk a bit at the thought.

I take the time to thoroughly look him over. It's insane how much he resembles his father. Almost everything about him, from his dark, messy hair to his smile to his slim yet capable build screams James. Even his skills as a Quidditch player are uncannily similar; despite not being a Chaser like James, he demonstrates the same talent and ease on a broomstick. Aside from all of his father's traits, his bright, emerald green eyes, visible even from my seat, are clearly a gift directly from Lily. He is James with Lily's eyes. I smile fondly at the thought. This is exactly how James would have wanted things to be.

For the next couple of hours, the game goes on. As I continue to watch, the fact that I am watching Harry play sinks in further. I force myself to focus on the task at hand and diligently take notes, recording notable plays and events, and ensuring I have quality material for the article. Having been in this position for a substantial amount of time, I was quite used to the process. But never before have I had to observe and report on the son of my deceased best friends.

"And it looks like Potter has spotted the snitch!" Half of the spectators rise from their seats in order to get a better view of the action. I follow their example and focus my attention to the person in question, who has started speeding after the golden ball.

"The Seekers are neck and neck!"

Harry and the Slytherin Seeker, a rather meek looking girl by the name of Flora Carrow, chase after the snitch, every couple of seconds, bumping into the other in an attempt to reach the sought after little bugger. The two are a blur of red and green as they race around the pitch. Suddenly, the snitch changes directions and starts flying in the direction of the spectator tower that I, along with Hestia and a number of faculty members, am situated in. Harry and the Carrow girl follow suit, heading in our direction.

I start to panic a bit. Neither the snitch nor the seekers show any sign of changing direction, and all are quickly approaching.

Drawing far too close to the tower for any normal person's comfort, Carrow immediately veers right, avoiding collision but straying from the snitch. However, Harry refuses to stop. In a moment of either bravery or foolishness, Harry leaps from his broom, wrapping his fingers around the snitch. For a moment, he looks elated. But then he realizes that although he is in the air, he is no longer on a broom, and instead is falling into the stands.

Before I can really register what is happening, I find myself with Harry Potter half sprawled over my lap, looking absolutely mortified.

Long time no see, buddy.

"Merlin, I am so sorry!" He scrambles off of me, tripping a bit over the edge of his Quidditch robes. In the background, I can hear Skinny announcing Gryffindor's win over Slytherin, 230-50. "Are you hurt? I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Thoroughly amused by his not-so-suave behavior, so unlike James, a giggle escapes from my lips. "I'm perfectly fine, a bit shocked to unexpectedly find Gryffindor's Seeker on my lap, but no harm done," I reassure him.

My words seem to soothe him, until a highly unattractive cackle resounding from my sister beside me reaches our ears. I notice how he immediately flushes red out of embarrassment and swiftly deliver a quick jab to her ribs with my elbow, effectively silencing her.

"Don't listen to my idiotic sister, she's just an intern," I smirk at Hestia's indignant cry. "Oh, I'm being rude. My name is Thalia Jones, reporter for the Daily Prophet."

I extend a hand to Harry, who politely shakes it. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

"You know, I-"

"There wasn't much of a need to say your name, now was there? After all, the entire wizarding world knows who you are," Hestia's unfiltered mouth comments.

Once again, his face turns red at the acknowledgment of his fame. He rubs the back of his neck shyly. Before bringing his hand down, he runs it through his hair nervously, disheveling his locks.

My breath hitches. That action - with the blushing and the hair - was so like both Lily and James respectively that I feel overwhelmed. My internal reaction must show on my face as Harry's expression morphs into that of confusion.

I suddenly find myself forgetting how to breathe. One second, I'm perfectly fine, but the next.. I'm an absolute mess. Instead of looking at Harry and seeing Lily and James's son, my mind flashes images of Lily and James themselves. Grief washes over me, rendering me incapable of standing there any longer. Next thing I know, I'm fleeing the stands, leaving behind a thoroughly confused Harry and totally lost Hestia. As I'm rushing from the spectator tower, I catch a glimpse of Professor Dumbledore, watching me with those knowing, twinkling eyes of his.

About half an hour later, I am wandering the halls of Hogwarts for the first time since I graduated. I take my time, walking at a leisurely pace, inspecting every painting, statue and tapestry I pass. This proves to be highly calming and I notice that my mental fit from earlier seems to be gone.

I grimace as I think about how I just left Harry like that. Honestly, Thalia. This is the first time you've seen the boy in ages and that is how you respond? What were you expecting? Of course the lad was going to remind you of them.

Feeling the desire to sit and engulf myself in the comfort of the house elves' treacle tart, I make my way to the kitchens. Once I face the painting which marks the entrance, I tickle the pear and smile nostalgically when the frame swings open. Inside, I see elves bustling around, ingredients floating from place to place, Harry, utensils wa-

Harry.

Said bloke is sitting down at one of the tables, a seemingly untouched goblet of pumpkin juice in front of him. Drawing closer, I see that he is holding a picture.

I bite my lip. It is a magical photo of a baby Harry, being embraced and carried by James and Lily. Both are smiling and waving at the camera, periodically looking away to drop a kiss on Harry's rosy cheek or to tickle his side.

Harry must hear my footsteps because he turns to face me, surprised to see someone else in the kitchens. I offer a hesitant smile.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask. Still looking a bit shocked, he gestures to the seat across from him. I nod gratefully and sit down.

"Although I didn't come looking for you, I had a bit of an inkling that I would find you here, Harry."

"Why is that?" He blinks at me.

"This was where Lily came to think. Though, she hadn't known how to get in before her 7th year, so I guess she had another place before then. That was thanks to your father, actually. James brought her here on their first date."

Lily's- Harry's eyes widen almost comically at my words. "H-how do you know that?" he asks, barely being able to form the sentence.

I give him a sad smile. "When someone changes your life the way your parents changed mine, the things you learn about them become a part of you."

Sensing that he wanted me to elaborate, I continue. "I met Lily right before the sorting ceremony on the first day of Hogwarts. I was nervous beyond belief, and your mother, the ever concerned girl she was, did her best to soothe me. It helped, really, but then of course I was nervous again once it came time for McGonagall to place the hat upon my own head. Regardless, I knew right away that Lily Evans was something special."

I laugh lightly. "On the other hand, your father was ridiculous from the start. James was smitten with Lily from the very beginning. And by that I mean, he was deep in love even before the start of year feast had begun. Lily and I were sitting next to each other at the Gryffindor table, having just been sorted, and were watching the other first years. James was sitting on the stool with the hat on his head, grinning at Lily, who at the time was completely oblivious. Once it was announced that he was to be in Gryffindor, he jumped up and practically ran to the table, eager to get a seat near her. He forgot the hat was still on his head. The hat slipped down over his eyes and he tripped, falling onto me and Lily. And that was the beginning of it all."

I smirk at Harry, who is hanging onto my every word. "I guess Potter men just have a thing for landing on unsuspecting women's laps, eh?"

Harry smiles a bit, but he still looks lost, even a bit conflicted as well. "So you were close with my parents," he says, intending it to be a question but not being able to truly phrase it as one.

"Lily was my best friend."

A spark ignites in Harry's emerald eyes. His tone is suddenly fierce. "If that's so, then why am I just finding this out? Sirius never mentioned-"

I cringe at that name. Harry notices this, and his expression softens a bit. He asks again, still in a strong tone but less harsh, "Why did no one ever tell me?"

I look down at my hands, where I am absently playing with a simple ring on my left pointer finger. It has never left my hand in the over fifteen years that I've had it.

"I didn't know any of this until much later, when it was too late. After your parents went under the protection of the Fidelius charm, they were advised to cut off contact with almost everyone, regardless of how much they didn't want to, which they did. I was one of them. At that point, I had only seen you a couple of times as a baby, but boy did I love you like you were my own. I called you buddy and showered you with Quidditch related gifts, much to James's excitement. But anyway, suddenly I stopped hearing from your parents. I went crazy, trying to rack my mind with the possibilities- had I done something wrong? Was Lily upset with me? What happened?"

I swallow painfully, trying to push down the sobs that were rising in my throat. "Eventually, I got so fed up with this lack of acknowledgment and communication that I wrote a letter to them. A rather harsh one, at that. I regret every single word I wrote. I was just so confused and angry and hurt and.. I wasn't thinking. I didn't really know if I could handle seeing them face to face, and with the charm it's not like I could've if I had wanted to, which I didn't know. So I gave Sirius the letter, knowing he was still in touch with them. I never received any sort of reply, and Sirius also stopped talking to me. I'm assuming he saw what I had said to them and became angry, being fiercely protective of both James and Lily. That was that, and next I heard of him, I was seeing his mug shot around the Daily Prophet offices."

"Harry," I stare directly into the green eyes which I had seen so many times in the face of my best friend. "Once I realized my mistake, I was too ashamed of my actions to try to see you. As a matter of fact, I tried so hard to avoid any reminders of you that I didn't even realize you would be at Hogwarts when I took this assignment. But now that I'm here, I need to apologize. I should've tried to reach out to you. You must've been so, so alone all these years. I could've done something to ease that. But no, I let my own baggage get in the way."

I let out a long breath, suddenly feeling as if a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders, a weight I hadn't acknowledged in a long time. Please, please forgive me, Harry.

"Did you love them?" he asks, surprising me. I was not expecting that question.

"Yes and no. Yes, because I did, but did almost implies that I stopped loving them. And never, not even for a moment, did I ever stop. Lily was like a sister to me, and I loved James for loving her the way he did," I admit, meaning every single word. I was slightly shocked at how easily the words came to me, deciding that after all these years, there was just no holding back any longer.

"I forgive you."

The words are like music to my ears.

Choked up with emotion, I am only able to utter a few words in response.

"Thank you, buddy."

A couple of hours later, Harry and I are lounging by the lake. I had just recounted numerous stories about my years with Lily and the Marauders, including more than enough about James's endeavors to finally get the girl of his dreams. With each word, I notice Harry's mood lighten and this observation warms my insides.

"Lia! Merlin, Thalia!"

I turn at the sound of my name to see Hestia jogging towards us, slightly breathless. Once she reaches us, she pauses to rest her hands on her knees and slowly control her breathing.

"Run away and hide, why don't you! I've been looking for you everywhere!" She scolds, placing her hands on her hips. "We've been here all day!"

"I've been busy," I reply simply, sparing a quick glance at Harry. As if just noticing his presence, Hestia takes in the boy next to me. Understanding washes over her face.

"Oh, I see. Well I'll be waiting in the entrance hall, just meet me when you're ready. I swear though, if I have to endure one more professor telling me that 'I've returned so soon!' then I'm going to explode," she declares, and with that, she marches back into the castle.

"Hestia Jones, if I'm not mistaken?" Harry asks. I nod, wondering how he knows her.

"If I recall correctly, she was a sixth year when I began Hogwarts. She was always known for her theatrics," he chuckles. "I believe she once wrote a play about elves because she was bored and tried to recruit us first years for the roles, as we were apparently small enough."

I throw my head back and laugh. "What a joke, she is. And she strives to be a writer, with that mind," I jest affectionately.

"So what made you want to be a writer?" Harry inquires, ruffling his hair. He really is James's son, those Potter men and their hair.

"I graduated Hogwarts with the intention of pursuing a job at the ministry. However, times were getting worse and I realized I couldn't be of much help in a position there. So I did numerous odd jobs until.. Until your parents were gone."

Harry's brow furrows a bit; he clearly was not expecting this type of answer. Knowing now that I had started, I couldn't stop, so I continued.

"It was then that I realized the dark times had forced me into a position where I was left unaware and uninformed. Because I didn't know what was going on, I lashed out at your parents and never got the chance to apologize. From then on, I was determined to ensure that everyone would be given the means to stay informed. I found that opportunity in writing for the Daily Prophet."

I smile. "Sometimes, I'm given huge assignments, discussing the important events. Others, I do smaller ones, such as gossip or Quidditch matches," I wink at Harry. "But small or not, I always leave feeling a bit better and more fulfilled."

He nods, smiling a bit to himself. He gazes out at the lake and beyond, staring at a point just on the other side of the water, right before the line of trees begins. He looks as if he is recalling a memory. I wonder what he's thinking, but do not ask.

Let his thoughts be his thoughts.

"What's your patronus?" he asks, never looking away from that spot.

"A large, shaggy dog," I whisper.

His eyes snap to mine and I shed a sad smile.

"Sirius. You loved Sirius, didn't you," he states, once again implying a question but not quite asking it.

"Yes and no," I reply, not elaborating any further. He doesn't ask for more, and I know he understands, thinking back to my response earlier when he asked if I loved Lily and James.

"I should go, Hestia is right, we have been here all day," I rise slowly, carefully brushing off any dirt from my clothes. Harry follows suit, getting up and standing before me.

"Thank you, for everything," he says, and despite his words of thanks, I've never felt more grateful myself in my life.

"Here, before I go," I slide my ring off my pointer finger and place it in his hand. It is beautifully simple - silver with a black band in the middle, made from onyx. On the inside, the words Always with you were engraved. I found solace in those comforting words on countless occasions throughout the years. "I want you to have this. Lily and James helped Sirius pick it out for me one Christmas; he added the engravement later. I've worn it ever since."

I see tears welling up in his eyes and know that I've just given this boy a priceless gift. After reminding him to feel free to contact me, I turn away and make my way towards the castle, leaving behind with him a huge part of me.

It was really good to see you again, buddy.

A Battle of Rivals: Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch Cup Final

by Thalia Jones, senior staff writer

(full article within beginning on page 38)

Last Saturday, on a breezy April morning, rival houses Gryffindor and Slytherin determinedly fought to decide who would triumph and receive the sought after Quidditch Cup. After over three hours of intricate plays and excellent teamwork demonstrated by both teams, one house emerged victorious.

Slytherin, captained by Chaser Jeremiah Blishwick, relied heavily on their Beaters who, in perfect coordination, opted to go more on the offense than defense. Rather than aiming to defend their players from the bludgers, they strived to, in simple terms, attack the Gryffindors with them. However, this tactic did not surprise nor throw the house of the brave, captained by Seeker Harry Potter.

Rather, the mighty Gryffindors had their own offensive strategy of their own. Utilizing their exceptionally strong teamwork amongst their Chasers, the Gryffindors managed to secure 80 points before Potter caught the Golden Snitch in a once-in-a-lifetime move (pictured within on page 38).

Needless to say, this was one unforgettable match. We can all safely assume that the Gryffindors will be happily celebrating their victory, welcoming the dazzling trophy like a long lost, old friend.

This is the first story I've written in quite a while, but when the thought came to me, I just couldn't resist. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

Mischief managed, always.