Chapter One : Asking for Trouble

Tears pricked at the corners of Rapunzel's eyes, sticking to her lashes and obscuring her vision. Nonetheless, she tugged and tugged at the door handle, her magnitude of blonde her hair stuck to the sweat on her palms and her forehead, so that every time she pulled, her scalp twinged painfully.

She knew it was of no use. Mother Gothel had used both a key and magic to lock the door, and her strongest spells were charms. Rapunzel didn't stand a chance. She knew that, but...

She had to try.

Because, despite what her mother said, she had to go to back to Hogwarts. For eleven years she had been hidden away, but McGonagall had found her, despite Gothel's best wishes. She had sent owl after owl, and even the gatekeeper before Gothel had relented.

Nothing had made Rapunzel happier than being sent to the wondrous school - of exploring the outside world - of having friends. It was like a dream come true all year. She could do what she pleased and be who she wanted - and nobody even knew about her magic hair! (Though, at a magic school, she hadn't thought it that strange. She had only ever told one person, who had confirmed her thoughts to be wrong. Magic hair was still weird in the wizarding world.)

At the end of the year, when she was being sent home (though, she had really started to think of Hogwarts as her home, and her dorm mates as her sisters), she was terrified that Gothel wouldn't allow her to go back. To demand that she stayed at home in case anyone - anyone discovered her secret. But her mother barely put up a fuss. She kept mentioning the matter of Rapunzel dropping her studies, but she allowed Rapunzel to hop back on the train every year after that.

And when Rapunzel's OWL results came - five Exceeds Expectations and four Outstandings - Mother Gothel had been over the moon. They had had hazlenut soup - Rapunzel's favourite - every night for the whole summer. She was brought every thing that she even remotely liked in Diagon Alley and, in short, treated like a literal superstar. Her mother was so proud.

Today, with two weeks left of summer, she had mentioned to Mother Gothel how hard she was going to work in her final year to achieve as many NEWTs as possible, her mother had exploded. Suddenly, Rapunzel was never leaving the house again - ever - so help her she would keep her here no matter what.

It was ridiculous, unfair and uncalled for. Rapunzel had, regretably, in that instant snapped. The secret that she had discovered in her sixth year - Mother Gothel was not her real mother - burst out of her.

Mother Gothel's face had blazed bright red. Then, in less than a second, she had turned deathly pale and ice cold. She seemed to grow twice in size.

That was when she had yanked Rapunzel, by her hair all the way up the spiral staircase and flung her bodily into her room. She had the door locked before three quarters of Rapunzel's hair, trailing behind her like a rejected party streamer, had gotten through.

Rapunzel, straining against her hair, had ran to the only window just in time to see ice freeze it over, distorting the beautiful view of the Welsh countryside outside her window. Not that she could reach it, with half her hair sealed tight in the door.

She had thrown money jars against the door and screamed and cried and begged. Mother Gothel had not responded. She had crept as close as she could to the window and lit a match against the ice, but it was strong, magical ice and an entire box of matches had only melted a hole the size of her hand.

Of course, she could use magic. But by the time the thought occurred to her, she realized that Mother Gothel had stolen her wand.

Her fingers had started to bleed from pulling at the door knob so hard, the salt of her tears stinging the fresh cuts. Everything hurt so badly...

Rapunzel stopped and slumped against the door, her back against it. Blood dripped onto her dress, crimson against the faded purple. A gut wrenching sob came from her throat without permission. There were strands of hair all over her face, like a spider's web.

She felt like she was a fly. Caught in an elaborate web. Only she had flown right into it, willingly.

And now she was never going to go back to Hogwarts.

Something hopped onto her shoulder, nudged at her tenderly.

She wiped her hair and her tears back, turning to see a very familiar, green face. The face that had been her only friend ever since she was a child. The face that had been her first friend and was still her best friend. Pascal. The chameleon.

As she looked at him, her heart full of despair, an arrow of hope appeared.

Ignoring her hair, which clung to her face and shoulders like cotton candy, she scrambled to her desk. Her fingers fumbled over the ink pot and quill as she feverishly ripped off the last foot of her History of Magic homework.

Her writing, normally tiny, looped and perfect, was like chickenscratch. Her eyes darted around the room - spare ribbon, the tiny hole, Pascal.

"Climb up to the roof," she murmured to him a moment later, her throat raw and throbbing in sharp pain. "Ask Mother's owl to fly you to Eugene's house. Please Pascal. You're my only hope."

(And, yes, of course Rapunzel got that reference; she had been trapped in this house for eleven years and six summers, she was fluent in movie quotes.)

Pascal dutifully saluted her, then scurried away, the scrap of paper tied to his waist in case he dropped it on the way over.

Rapunzel watched him crawl through the hole and disappear, hope shining in her heart. It would be okay...everything would be fine...once Eugene got here...

The adrenaline had started to wear off and suddenly Rapunzel found that her eyes were tired and heavy. She was exhausted and in pain and she wanted to go to bed and forget about her horrible situation.

So, sure that Eugene would come for her, she pushed her hair away from her, curled up by the door (as she was still half stuck in it) and closed her eyes. After all, what do damsels in distress do better than wait for Prince Charming.

Within minutes, she had slipped away into a dim, dark, but comfortable world of dreams.

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Jack stared at the badge his mother cradled in her hands. There had to be some mistake. There had to be. He couldn't be -

- But she was so proud of him. She was looking at him with tears welling in her eyes, shining like diamonds. Her smile was lighting up the room.

And that was precisely why he couldn't tell his mother.

"I thought you had to be a seventh year to be head boy," his little sister, Mary, piped up. Her eyes usually huge and brown like a puppy's, were narrowed at Jack. She thought he was up to something. He was confused beyond all reason.

"Well maybe Jack's a special case," their mother said, admiring the badge like it was a rare jewel. "I'm so proud of you, Jack. Mary, aren't you proud?"

"Of course," Mary quipped. "I was just wondering how a fifth year with the most-"

Jack, quick as lighting, clamped a hand over his little sister's mouth, laughing loudly to cover the silence. He knew what she was going to say - the most detentions in Hogwarts history. But their mother didn't know that. And she would never know that.

"Thank you, both of you!" he said loudly, releasing the struggling Mary and taking the Head Boy's badge. "I'm going to go...put this somewhere safe."

"Oh, let me take a picture of you in your robes before you go this time," his mother called after him as he disappeared into his room. He was thankful that the house was a small bungalow, so that he could get there quickly.

"Maybe," he replied, as teasingly as ever, shutting his bedroom door. Feeling awful, he also slid the lock slowly shut. Usually, he had no secrets from his mother. There were things he didn't tell her, yes, but no secrets. (If she came up and asked him "is it really true that you set a domino rally of dung bombs off from the first to the fifth floor?" he would say "yes." and try to act ashamed of himself.) This, however, this he couldn't disappoint her with.

Without further ado, he snatched his Hogwarts letter up from the bedside table and desperately re-read it. Yes, it confirmed that he was head boy and had an obligatory, generic statement explaining why. Jack could have laughed - "outstanding performance and effort" - that was that cocky, stuck-up Hans guy - not him. That was anyone but him. How could he be head boy? He was only in his fifth year!

It had to be a joke.

And yet, it was definitely McGonagall's owl that swept briskly through the window that morning. And it was definitely her signature.

But it must be a joke.

Either someone was extremely good at pranks, or McGonagall actually had a sense of humour. The former was more likely.

Just in case, he decided he wouldn't wear the bloody badge until he had confirmed with McGonagall that it was his. He couldn't give anyone the pleasure of pranking him.

And if it was his? What would he do then? Reform his ways? Not a chance.

…Maybe he could give it to someone else?

"Ja-ack?" his little sister's wheedling voice came through the door, interupting his thoughts. "You promised to take me to Diagon Alley today, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Jack replied, taking a deep breath before opening the door and giving her his huge trademark grin. "Grab the floo-powder then."

Their mum, upon finding floo-powder in Diagon Alley during Jack's first year, had always insisted on buying some. It meant that they didn't have to beg their neighbours for lifts to odd places or scrounge around for change to ride the bus.

It also meant that Mary had been sneaking in and out of Hogwarts ever since she could use the stuff - but Mrs Frost didn't know that. She hadn't asked.

Anyway, Jack had been determined to give his little sister the best head-start at the school that he could. He showed her the secret passageways, the tapestries to avoid, introduced her to the paintings that would help her with her homework. All of the little tricks and secrets that he had painstakingly found himself. She would be safe.

Their mum instisted that they travel together, even though there was barely enough room in the fireplace for Jack, let alone Mary.

"You have to be safe, you might lose each other," their mother said, nervously tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Jack, about that picture,"

Jack held back a sigh.

"Yeah, mum?" he asked.

"With the brown hair, please? I want to send it to your father."

"Sure," Jack managed to say, with a tight smile. "As you wish, mum."

It was his way of saying 'I love you'. She didn't know that; she had never watched The Princess Bride. But he had. And that was all that mattered.

Her request spun around in his head as the grate swam in front of him. His brown hair…

Jack had found out, through a revenge-prank of the other Slytherin boys, that he was a metamorphmagus. When his hair had been stuck a bright pink, he had, almost in tears, gone straight to Slughorn's office, who in turn led him to McGonagall's office. She was the one who had helped him control the rare gift.

Since then, he had kept his hair snowy white and his eyes almost grey; practically the complete opposite of his former self.

The person who was responsible for his magic was to blame. His father was a wizard and he had left as soon as Mary was conceived. Jack had placed the blame on him and, as the years continued with no sign of his father's return ("he said he'd return," his mother always insisted), the resentment grew. He had left them.

It didn't help that Jack, if he could not change his appearance, would be the spitting image of his father.

But if his mum wanted it…well…he couldn't say no to that.

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Merida Dunbroch stared through the window of the shop until her breath had fogged the glass so much she could no longer see what was inside. Only then did she take a half step away, her hands leaving fingerprints as though it was frosted glass.

Even though she had a fat, full bag of galleons in her pocket, she was unable to buy what she really, truly, genuinely wanted.

Because of her mother.

She was already tugging at Merida's arm to get going, yelling at Maudie (the live-in babysitter) to find her three brothers "immediately", but Merida couldn't pull herself away, not this time.

"Mam," she begged, hoping her mother's split attention would work to her advantage. "Please can I get a broom?"

"What? Oh, no, Merida," her mother muttered, straining her neck over the crowd of witches and wizards.

"Oh, come on, El, let her have a broom," her father, who towered over everyone else, said.

"I've told her time and time again, no!" Elinor stressed.

"Aye, mam, but you've never told me why!" Merida whined. She let her voice break so that it looked as though she were about to cry; she knew her father couldn't resist that.

"Eleanor..." her father pleaded, turning to his wife. He too, turned on his puppy-dog eyes.

Eleanor looked between the two, considering them both with one eyebrow slightly raised.

"It's unladylike, Merida," she said, as though that settled the arguement.

"No, you said that quidditch is 'unladylike' and I don't want it to play Quidditch - I just want to ride it, mam, so that you and Maudie don't have to take me everywhere. This is the year I do my OWLs, mam - I'm practically a grown-up!" she pleaded. It was all of the reasons that she'd spouted off in her head on the way here, but they were all coming out wrong and she sounded childish.

"Merida, I-" Eleanor gave a large sigh, looking like she was finally going to repent, when her attention was captured by the blasted triplets. Merida loved her little brothers (they were a great distraction for sneaking out), but they had the worst possible timing!

Her mother was distracted and she would never be so vulnerable to saying yes again.

Next to her, her father sighed too.

But then he placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"Go in and buy it, Merry, catch up with us in Florish and Blotts."

Merida's heart soared. Hope at last!

Giving a hasty but heartfelt hug to her father, Merida disappeared into the shop like a shot.

"That one!" she practically yelled, the door not even fully closed behind here. "I want-" here, Merida remembered herself and cleared her throat. She tried again, with a smooth gesture to the Firebolt. "Could I have that one, please?"

The guy in the shop seemed completely bemused, but sold it to her. Her fingers were practically itching as she took it from him.

The polished handle under her fingertips, the twigs bristling as she pulled it closer - it was practically begging to be ridden.

It was only when she was leaving the shop that the thought occurred to her. She'd have to hide this from her mother.

How on earth was she going to hide this from her mother?!

She froze involuntarily, her mind at a complete blank.

"Hey, Merry!" a voice suddenly called.

Her eyes darted around, for some reason thinking it would be her mother (even though she had never called her by her nickname), and eventually landing on a silver-haired boy. Jack Frost. Probably her closest friend at Hogwarts, even if he was a Slytherin.

"Jack," she smiled in relief as he started over to her, a younger girl trailing after him, whining to deaf ears.

Jack let out a low whistle when he saw the broom in her hand.

"That's a nice Firebolt," he commented, his finger running down the length of it.

Merida unconsciously pulled it back towards her, fearful her broom would take to someone else.

"Aye, I just brought it," she said, pretending to be disinterested. All of her senses were alert and terrified that Eleanor would spot her.

"Your mum finally got you a broom, then?" Jack continued to ask, his pale blue eyes twinkling as they looked the broom up and down.

"Ah, no," Merida felt her face warm. An idea suddenly came to her. "She doesn't know...would you mind holdin' onto it for me?"

Jack blinked at her.

Then he smirked.

"Just until term!" she added hastily.

"Look at the goody-two shoes Gryffindor going behind her mummy's back," he all but sang, immune to her death glares after four years. But then he held out his hand. "Sure, I can take care of it for you."

"We meet at King's Cross," she told him, with all the authority that a pureblood could muster. "And you return it to me straight away."

"Of course," he shrugged. "For a fee."

Her face reddened; it usually did around Jack - he was good at making her frustrated.

"How much?" she asked, dipping into her pocket.

"How about a sickle for each week?" Jack only had a small smirk as he asked it.

She didn't have a lot of choice. She handed over the coins, then stuck her tongue out and flipped the bird at him. But he wasn't paying attention, he had turned away to the pouting girl at his side.

"Let's go get you some robes." He said, tugging her away from the angry Scottish girl.

"Jack!" Merida yelled after him, sounding much too like her mother for her liking.

He didn't even turn, just gave her a lazy wave as he walked down Diagon Alley.

She was mad at him, but half of it was just jest. Most of it was jest with Jack, they'd tease and bully each other but stand up for the other in a flash. They were an unstoppable team of pranksters and spell-casters. They were unstoppable friends.

And Merida wouldn't change that for the world.

After all, he was the one who had lent her his broom and taught her how to fly. The one who would laugh when she fell off, but offer a hand up and a healing charm.

And now she had her own.

The thought could have been sad. That they wouldn't have those memories. But at the same time, it meant that Merida wouldn't be blackmailed into doing his homework for broom time. It meant that she could race him - they could play each other in a Quidditch match.

Because, of course she was going to play Quidditch. She had to play Quidditch. It was a sport meant for her. Nothing could stop her now.

She'd be on the team, if it was the last thing she'd do.

And, filled with these thoughts, Merida started the walk to Florish and Blotts lesuirely.

This year was the year that everything would go right. The year of Merida.

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Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third wished that he was back at Hogwarts. There were many reasons for this. The first was because it was were he felt most at home - or rather, it was so far away from home that he could push it out of his mind and never think about it. He could claim his father's owls got lost in the mail and avoid the other kids from Berk. Perfect.

Which led to the second reason - his father, who was no doubt annoyed that his son - his son - was put in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor like everyone else's. It wasn't enough that Hiccup was too weak and powerless to hunt dragons - but he had to be smart instead of brave.

And the third reason - the other kids from Berk. Considering Hiccup had gone to all of their barbeques and bonfires and gatherings as a kid, and though he called them 'friends' (which was a stretch of the term) - he didn't fit in. He never had. They wanted nothing to do with him and when they did acknowledge him, it was only to tease him. Now if he had to suffer their company, he made sure he had plenty of reading material.

The fourth, and maybe least, reason, was that he hated his Summer job. He didn't mind his uncle Gobber, but working out at the garage was heavy, gruelling work that almost always resulted in oil staining his clothes. And not just any old oil - magical oil that wouldn't come out, or magical grease that would change places to trip him up - or magical tools that would butt him upside of the head.

He'd been helping out since he was small, mainly because he was the only one of the kids who could - and had the time to - do it.

On the bright side, he was an expert in machinery and had mastered reading with one hand whilst fixing an engine with the other.

If only he were so skilled with a wand.

"Ready to head to Diagon Alley in a bit, son?"

"Uh, yeah, Dad...in fact, I was wondering if, uh, we didn't meet up with everyone this time? It's just last time...well, I mean, I'm still banned from Florean Fortesque's and I'm innocent." Hiccup never felt he was good at talking to his dad, but eventually he always managed to say what he meant.

"Oh don't worry," Stoic replied cheerfully. "We've scrapped that plan-" Hiccup's heart leapt - finally - a year without - "We're going to stay up there a couple of nights before you go to school. Won't that be great?"

Hiccup's heart sank back down again. It didn't sound great. In fact, it sounded awful.

"Who am I sharing with?" he asked reluctantly.

"Snotlout," Stoic declared it so proudly. Of course he was happy - Snotlout was a Gryffindor and he did okay in his exams so was basically the perfect room mate for his failure of a son.

"Great," Hiccup said unenthusiastically, then he glanced at Gobber. "But I'm sure I have way too much work to do here."

Hiccup gestured to the motorcycle, practically repaired. It was what his father and the other adults used to hunt down dragons.

"Nah, I think I should get by okay," Gobber completely missed the hint, fiddling with his fake hand. It was enchanted to turn into whatever he wanted.

Hiccup's heart fell even further.

"It's settled then," Stoic said, clapping his son his the shoulder.(Hiccup could barely keep himself from falling over.) "You should get packed."

Hiccup nodded and tried not to look like he felt the world was at an end.

At least until his father left the room.

Then he hit Gobber's elbow. (He hardly felt it, of course.)

"How could you do that to me?" he asked, hating the way that his voice cracked as he did.

"Do what?" Gobber blinked at him, obviously completely oblivious.

"Well now I get the curses and the laughing and the repeating everything Hiccup says and the thousands of dragon tales that-" he stopped suddenly.

He was going to say 'that make me feel sick to my stomach', but couldn't tell that to anyone. Not even Gobber. Because he wanted to kill a dragon. To fit in. To be able to tell the same tale ten times because people ask for it.

But at the same time he really, really didn't want to kill a dragon. The thought made his stomach clench. How could someone just kill a creature like that? Something that flew so magnificently.

Wouldn't it be easier to ride one than enchanting everything else to catch them?

"Cheer up, Hiccup," Gobber said now, his hand (now a wand) tapping Hiccup's shoulder (and emitting sparks). "I'm sure it'll be better than you think."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Hiccup gave a snort, slinking out of the garage like a kicked puppy. "That's what you said the last time and now Florean Fortesque thinks my butt erupts violently and infrequently."

He could hear Gobber in hysterics as he left the workshop.

Straight into the obnoxious laughter of Snotlout.

"That was a good one, Hiccup, you have to admit it," the dark-haired boy guffawed.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, hiding his book behind his back. (One too many nips from enchanted books.

"Yeah, it was great," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know," Snotlout completely missed said sarcasm, following Hiccup as he headed down the street. Practically everyone in their little village had a kid who went to Hogwarts, and practically everyone hunted dragons.

And his dad, though a muggle, had managed to secure his place as the best of the bunch. Hiccup would be proud, if it didn't put so much pressure on him.

"What are you reading?" Snotlout asked suddenly, spotting the tome that Hiccup was unsuccessfully hiding. (To be fair, it could have made a deadly topper to a war hammer.)

"Oh, um," Hiccup didn't want to say that he'd been pouring over extra reading for Care of Magical Creatures. "Transfiguration homework."

"Oh, I'm dropping that," Snotlout waved it off. "I'm not even going to bother with my OWLs.

This didn't surprise Hiccup.

"Good luck with that," Hiccup said, managing to flash a smile. "I'm going to go back."

His smile dropped as he walked away. This would be the worst two days of his life.

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There was a knock at Elsa Aren-Delle's room. She made a sound in her throat to acknowledge that she heard it, her face taut with concentration.

"Do you wanna do my homework?" a sing-song voice came from the door.

"An-na," Elsa said through gritted teeth, flicking her wand ever so slightly upward. She had to be very careful...very careful...

The door burst open.

Elsa jumped, her wand flicking wildly.

The snowflake she had been balancing on the tip flew off into the replica castle she had been building. Painstackingly. Flake by flake.

"Oops," her little sister half giggled. "Cool castle though."

"You shouldn't yell about your homework so loudly," Elsa sighed the castle's ruins vanishing with a flick of her wand. "What if mother and father hear?"

"They're not gunna hear," Anna gave a small snort. "They're downstairs with Auntie and Uncle."

"Do you think they'll ever find her?" Elsa asked in a quiet voice.

Anna just shrugged, the mood suddenly sombre. She was born after her cousin went missing and Elsa could hardly remember herself. Their Aunt and Uncle were still devastated, holding out hope that she would show up someday.

"Homework?" Elsa prompted after the tense moment.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Anna stammered, handing her sister a heavy roll of parchment.

Elsa took it and as she took it she frowned. She raised a fair eyebrow at her sister as she untied the scroll. It fell almost to her feet.

"Anna...is this all of your homework?" she asked increduously.

"Yeah, so?" Anna asked innocently.

"There's only a week left of Summer!" Elsa all but yelled. How could Anna be so irresponsible?! So neglectful!

It didn't help that Elsa was the one who had to rush it. She was the one who always had to rush it.

"You have plenty of time," Anna waved a hand in the air like it fixed everything.

"Did you even do mine?" Elsa asked.

"Of course," the ginger teen looked offended, then a guilty smile came onto her face. "...I started it."

"Anna!" Elsa pushed back her fringe, the magic that always seemed to be sparking off of her freezing it there.

"Hans had an important Quidditch tryout," Anna pouted. "And then he had a BBQ... many BBQs - it's Summer, Elsa! What did you want me to do; sit around like you all day?"

"We have a deal," Elsa hissed, standing up from her desk. "I trusted you, Annalise Aren-Delle. This is my last year and I have to do well."

Anna seemed to sober up a little. Elsa only used her made-up full name when she was really cross.

"I know," she said, but then she bumped her sister's shoulder lightly with her fist. "When have I ever let you down before?"

It was true. Elsa's OWLs had been some of the top marks in the year. And she was determined that her little sister show even her up.

After all, with Elsa finally doing subjects that she enjoyed, they were an unstoppable team.

Because Elsa was extremely powerful. And she hated it. She would take Ancient Runes over Charms any day. However, her sister Anna was the complete opposite. Anna loved using magic, loved learning about magic -

And was next to useless.

In fact, over the last couple of years they had started to worry that she was a squib. At fifteen Anna could barely transfigure a beetle into a button and that was first year's stuff.

They had struck 'The Deal' in Anna's second year, as she choose her options. Elsa had told Anna to take the subjects that didn't require spells - arithmancy and ancient runes and muggle studies - all subjects that Anna hated. But Elsa loved them, and she had been bullied into taking a more spell-based range of subjects. The easiest solution had just been to do each others homework. To study for each other and make it easier for the other.

So far, no one had caught on. Their writing was similar and they looked so alike that Elsa betted she could wear a ginger wig and everyone would call her Anna.

"But..." her sister rocked on her heels. "We still have to get our new books from Diagon Alley."

Elsa felt a smile at the edge of her mouth, however much the sensible older sibling in her told her not to give in.

"You're sure they're distracted?" she asked.

Anna nodded, her eyes glancing slowly around Elsa's room. They slowly fell back to Elsa's icy stare. There was a moment where the two girls looked at each other.

"Race you for it!" they both cried, pushing at each other as they darted out of Elsa's room. They bashed into each other as they half-ran, half-fell down the hallway, trying to keep their giggles and shrieks stifled.

Though it was unlikely that their parents heard a thing.

Being Pureblood, they lived in an old, large Manorhouse parked neatly away in the Country. If you stood at the door of the house, the gates were too far away to even magic open. The girls had claimed the attic rooms when they were younger, and that made it perfect to fly out on a broom at night to visit friends. (Well, Anna did. She found that Elsa was something of an introvert.)

They fell down a flight of stairs, breathless and clutching each other, half for support and half to hold each other up.

It ended up being a draw, the pair crawling to the huge fireplace, laughing feebly.

"You have to promise me," Elsa gasped, lying on her back on the thick, woven carpet. "To finish off my homework before we go back to Hogwarts."

Anna was quiet for a moment. Then her warm fingers found her sisters.

"Anything for you, Elsa," she whispered, squeezing the blonde girl's hand.

Because her sister was her best friend. And nothing would ever change that.

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If you've ever fallen asleep after crying a lot, you'll know that your body does not approve when you wake up. As in Rapunzel's case, her palms and scalp throbbed and her eyes itched.

But she quickly forgot about all this as the ice that covered her window shattered with a sickening crack and a molten red light.

There, floating outside her window, Pascal in pride of place on his shoulder, was Eugene Fitzherbert. Rapunzel's human best friend.

He was on his broomstick, hovering expertly with his wand hand pointed directly at her. His eyes were wide and his thick eyebrows almost disappearing into his hair.

"I know, I know," he shrugged after a moment. "My wrist movements are too harsh, it makes the spells uncontrollable."

Despite herself, Rapunzel gave a small chuckle.

"Ever so slightly," she echoed, surprised to find her voice mostly returned.

Eugene swung off of the broom and into her window in a smooth, heroic motion. His gaze was dark and concerned once more as he padded across the room towards her.

In her blind joy to see a friendly face, Rapunzel darted towards him, only to be cruelly yanked back by her hair. She tumbled to the floor, strands lacing themselves over her like a fish net.

"Blondie, what's going on?" Eugene had bent down to her height, his hands supporting her face so that she could look at him. His hands were warm, the pads rough from Summer work, but Rapunzel only dimly noticed this.

"Mother - " Rapunzel stopped, her tongue dry. The realisation started to kick in. "Not my mother - but, well, oh - Eugene, she's not letting me go back to Hogwarts!"

"Wh-" Eugene started, but then he seemed to notice the hair trailing over the room - seemed to link up the iced window and locked door. Following his train of thought, Rapunzel choked back a sob.

"I can't undo the charm - she took my wand!" she told him, her hands had risen to brush her hair back again, but they had settled on Eugene's.

Eugene's hands moved from her face, but they still gripped her hands comfortingly.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of this." Eugene said.

He straightened up, pulling his wand out of his pocket. His eyes flicked over the hair that was strung across the room.

"I think the first order of business is to cut through all this, don't you think?" he asked, lining his wand up with the hair stuck in the door.

Rapunzel, due to said hair, was crouched over like a hunchback as she grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"No, Eugene - you know it'll loose it's-"

"I know," Eugene's voice had an edge to it as he said it. "Go brown when it's best blonde, lose it's power - and stop Mother Gothel using it like this. She won't have anything on you anymore."

"I can't let you-" Rapunzel stopped mid-sentence as she heard footsteps on the stairs. They were so familiar. Usually they brought comfort, but now they just brought dread.

Eugene had heard them too and had froze. Rapunzel's hair slipped through his fingers.

"Rapunzel," Mother Gothel's sickly sweet voice called. "I hope you haven't invited a friend over. You know how I feel about friends."

That they always stabbed you in the back, sooner or later, Rapunzel thought grimly. Ironically, as she looked at Eugene, she realised the roles that had been drilled into her were completely reversed.

"Of course not," Rapunzel's voice wavered as she answered. She wasn't sure if she was still crying or genuinely scared. "How could I-"

"Don't lie to mumsy, dear," Mother Gothel's voice was just on the other side of the door. The care and concern in her voice hardened Rapunzel's resolve more than ever.

"You aren't my mother!" she yelled spitefully before she could stop herself.

The next five seconds happened in fast-forward.

In the first, her mother spat "alohamora" at the door with such force that it all but burst off of it's hinges.

In the second, she caught sight of Eugene, who had taken a protective stance at Rapunzel's side, her face twisting grotesquely as she spat "you! The mudblood!"

In the third, Eugene's face had redenned in anger, but he had only gotten out "expell-" before Mother Gothel had slashed her wand a dozen times and yelled -

"Sectumsemtra!"

In the fourth, Eugene was flung across the room at the force of the spell, a hundred cuts starting to bloom crimson under his shirt.

In the fifth, Mother Gothel had grabbed hold of Rapunzel's arm and she had felt the beginning pulls of an evaporation and had screamed and tried to thrash away, panic flaring in her heart at the sight of Flynn injured.

But also in that fifth moment, barely audible over the struggle, Eugene had flicked his wand and cast "diffendo!"

A huge weight suddenly disappeared from Rapunzel's back. Mother Gothel's eyes widened and she realised Rapunzel's arm.

Thrown completely off balance, Rapunzel almost fell backwards over her desk, but caught herself just in time.

On the floor, she watched the mounds of hair - her hair - turning as brown as autumn's leaves. Suddenly, she comprehended the loss of weight.

One hand went to her hair and where her fingers found shorn hair, almost prickly, barely making it past the nape of her neck.

"What have you done?!" she gasped, turning to Eugene. For an instant, she had thought - perhaps my hair can heal him. But that thought was lying in a dusty heap on the floor with the rest of her precious, enchanted hair.

"What have you done?!" Mother Gothel echoed Rapunzel, turning on Eugene like a tigress.

Eugene was gasping on the floor, grinding his teeth against the pain. The cuts criss-crossed each other, cutting into his skin like a net of knives. Blood was pooling around him.

With just a look, Rapunzel's heart hardened.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she said, surprising even herself at the coldness in her voice. This woman was not her mother. This woman was killing her best friend. This woman was her enemy. Power seemed to well in her throat. "Expelliarmus."

She had never been able to master a non-verbal spell, let alone one without a wand. But somehow, Gothel's wand was flying out of her hand, along with Rapunzel's.

Rapunzel caught her own beloved wand with ease - elm and unicorn hair - and pointed it at Mother Gothel, who was glaring at them both with complete and utter outrage. Her hair was graying and wrinkles appeared as though being drawn by a child.

"Stupefy." Rapunzel cast the spell with an odd detachment. Mother Gothel hit the floor, surrounded by mounds and mounds of Rapunzel's hair.

Surely she should be feeling guilty about this. But she couldn't bring herself to feel anything.

Until Eugene gasped from the floor.

Suddenly panic welled within Rapunzel once again and a chocked cry came out of her mouth as she rushed towards him.

"Eugene! Eugene!" she gasped, reaching his side. His face was pale, blood flowing from beneath his fingertips like a waterfall.

Every healing spell Rapunzel could think of left her lips in a matter of seconds. But it made no difference. It made no change. Eugene was still bleeding on the floor. Eugene was still dying.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, his eyes barely able to focus on her. His hand shakily touched her cheek once more and she gripped it like a lifeline. Held it there, as though she could squeeze life into him. "Rapunzel."

It was the first time he had ever said her name. Over the years, he had mockingly come up with every variation of her name, getting more and more obscure each time. The fact that he was using it now...

"No - Eugene-" Rapunzel's voice broke, his name barely audible. Tears flowed freely from her eyes.

He was done. He was doomed.

Her face hit his chest. Perhaps, had she been in a better state of mind, she would have noticed that his chest was no longer sticky with blood.

As it happens, Rapunzel didn't even realise Eugene was alive until she felt his hand on her back.

The motion had made her jump. Her eyes opened, to meet Eugene's.

The golden light was starting to fade from his cuts and they both registered the facts at the same time, staring at each other with elated delight and confusion. Rapunzel's hair might be gone, but her tears still had the same impossible healing power.

Eugene being Eugene, he didn't acknowledge it at all.

"I...take it back," Eugene gasped, his hand steadying on Rapunzel's cheek. "You look better as a brunette."

Rapunzel didn't have the words. She could barely think.

Maybe it was this that caused her to smash her lips onto Eugene's.

It was her first kiss. And she wasn't even sure if she was doing it properly - or well. All she cared about was the fact that Eugene was safe and alive under her arms.

He kissed her back. Expertly. He had a way of sticking out his jaw that made Rapunzel melt as he pulled her closer to him.

The kiss lasted too long for a time of crisis. Or it was too short. Rapunzel couldn't decide. She just grinned at Eugene when he pulled away and allowed herself to be shepherded onto his broomstick. She clung onto his back and thought of all the times in the past year that she had thought about doing this. Of riding behind the Slytherin Seeker Eugene Fitzherbert - Flynn Rider.

Because, in the course of the last hour, she had realized that he was more to her than a best friend.

She loved him.

(A/N): I actually had the plan for this quite a while ago and started writing four parts in one day. I didn't touch it because I wanted to finish more things off before hand, but I found that I really wanted to write this...so I did. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I had a lot of fun at least writing this first part. (The chapters might get really long...)

I know there's a lot of dispute over where to place everyone in terms of Hogwarts Houses, but this is where I have put them and I'd be happy to explain myself if asked:

(Seventh Years):

Rapunzel : Hufflepuff

Flynn/Eugene : Slytherin

Elsa : Ravenclaw

(Fifth Years)

Merida : Gryffindor

Jack : Slytherin

Hiccup : Ravenclaw

Anna : Gryffindor

There was a reason for Jack's Little Sister's name...but I read quite a few different ideas and I can't remember the exact reasoning - I know it was from a wiki discussion.

This work was also posted on my account, under the same name.

Thank you for reading. I shall hopefully see you very soon! Please leave a comment with your thoughts! C: