This is one in a series of books all taking place at the same time but from different POV's.

Disclaimer: Obviously not JKR.


The bell dinged but I didn't look up from my book. I heard Sarah get up from the chair beside me and immediately missed her warmth. The air conditioning was turned on much too high for my liking.

"What can I do for you today?" Sarah asked in her work voice - an overly cheerful trill that never failed to annoy me.

"I'm looking for a book for my niece." A man, middle-aged, no big reader, hadn't been at the shop before. No kids of his own, probably a bachelor. I raised my eyes for a moment and saw that I was right. The balding, rather plump man looked distinctly not at ease in the bookstore. There was no wedding ring on his finger. Really, some people were just so obvious. Sarah caught me looking and beckoned me forward. With a groan, I shut my book and got to my feet.

"How old is she?" Sarah asked the man.

"Turning sixteen," the man said. "She likes... oh, curse it all, I can't remember the name. One of those new-fangled genres. Dist-something-or-another."

"Dystopia," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's not new, it's been around forever. In fact, it reached its peak in about the year 2015. You'll want The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Just make sure you give her the name of this store so she'll know where to find the rest of them. Most places won't have it."

The man blinked a few times, obviously overwhelmed. I scoffed (internally, of course - I'm not that rude) and went back to my book.

"Good recommendation, but your people skills still could use work," Sarah said when the man left the shop, settling herself back into the seat next to mine. "He nearly didn't buy it when he saw how old it was."

I shrugged. "She'll have read anything modern," I said. "And he ended up buying the whole trilogy, didn't he? So no harm done."

She just sighed. "One day," she said. "One day, you'll figure out how to talk to people. And when that day comes I am going to laugh so hard."

I smiled, a genuine smile, the sort of smile only Sarah could elicit. "Why bother, when I have you? Besides, they're all idiots anyway."

She beamed back at me and pulled me into a hug. Buried in her arms in that moment, I could almost imagine I was eight again, taking comfort in the only person I had left. I shook the memories away as she pulled back.

"C'mon," she said. "Let's get you home."

I groaned. "Can't I stay with you? The Warringtons are coming over."

"They're not that bad."

I raised a single eyebrow, something I had spent the entire school year perfecting. "Excuse me? Have you seen Conrad lately? He's insane!"

Sarah just laughed and bumped my shoulder with hers. "You're more than a match for him," she said. "Just lie low and try not to upset Dad, okay? You know how he gets whenever they come over. You can beat Conrad up at school."

Of course, I had to get home just as the Warringtons were arriving. "Abigail!" my father called, obviously relieved as Sarah's car pulled into the driveway. As a muggle, he finds the Warringtons just a tad overwhelming. Conrad's obvious disgust for anything he considers "beneath him" – aka everything on the planet, but especially muggles – doesn't help. He hurried down the steps and pulled me into a quick hug, muttering, "They just arrived. Conrad's going to be staying here for a week."

"What?" I stared at him. The plan was for the Warringtons to come over for dinner. No more, no less. One dinner, I could stand. But a week of Conrad, without his parents? All I could think was: avada kedavra me now. "Where?" Our house wasn't all grand like the Warrington's. We only had four small bedrooms: one for me, one for my dad, one for my Aunt Tessa, who lived with us, and one for Sarah.

"Sarah's room," Dad said. I groaned. Of course it made sense, it was the only room in the house, but it was right next to mine. When Sarah still lived at home, we had shared a bathroom. It wasn't a problem, but the thought of sharing a bathroom with any teenage boy – but especially Conrad – was unimaginable.

"Thanks for warning me," I said as I brushed past him.

Aunt Calypso – Conrad's loving mother – smiled at me and pulled me into a bone crushing hug. "How are you, Abigail?" she asked me in that posh voice of hers. It made me want to throw up.

Instead, I forced a smile and said, "Fine."

We didn't see the Warringtons very often, but every time we did it was full of awkward moments. My family (if you could call the dysfunctional motions we went through a family) simply had nothing in common with them. They were pureblood (well, except for the part where they were related to us) and we were muggle.

Dinner started off discomfiting and just got worse from there. Aunt Tessa never approved of the Warringtons ("Coming in here with their wands and magic and thinking it makes them so much better than us!") and Dad just wanted them to keep them happy ("I'm sure Conrad's a perfectly nice boy once you get to know him better."). Needless to say, that plus the Warrington's obvious distaste at our humble lodgings made for a very uncomfortable dinner. Conrad spent the entire time scowling.

All in all, though, dinner wasn't too bad. Embarrassing, yes, but it didn't end in a fistfight and Conrad stayed mainly silent so I was able to survive.

At one point during dinner, Uncle Clive turned to me. "Thank you for doing this," he whispered. "Conrad's been in a bit of trouble lately" – of course – "so we really wanted him to be somewhere safe. Do you think you could keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't sneak out at night? I'm worried he's seeing some friends that are having a bad influence."

I nearly laughed out loud. Conrad was the worst of his friends by a long shot. Not that they were great people either, but at least they weren't downright evil like he was. And me, keeping him in check? He'd kill me first. But slowly, a plan came into my mind. "I'd be glad to keep an eye on him," I said, grinning. He smiled the tight-lipped smile of a man who never smiles and thanked me. The rest of dinner passed quite enjoyably.

Then, of course, Conrad's parents left, Dad disappeared upstairs to his office, and Aunt Tessa began to clean up from dinner. That left me and Conrad alone.

"Your room is upstairs," I said. "To the right. Bathroom is across the hall. Don't bother me." I figured that was enough hostessing enough for one night and returned to my room.

The next day, I did my best to pretend that Conrad didn't exist. I was up hours before he was, and so it was pretty easy. I took the book I was reading (Lavender Brown's fascinating account of conditions at Hogwarts during the Second Wizarding War) and headed for my favorite reading spot, a place where Aunt Tessa's ruthless dusters couldn't reach, a place that only Sarah and I knew about. In an obscure corner of our attic, looking down at the London street below, there was a window, small and circular. It was the only place you could find natural light in the attic, and I loved it. There was a small window seat underneath it, in which was everything that remained of my mum. Her wedding dress, a few old photos, a yellowing letter or two, including the note Dad had found sitting on the kitchen table the morning after she left.

I settled down in the window seat and opened the book. Dumbledore's Army, the title of the chapter I was on read. Beneath it was an old wizarding photo of twenty-five teenagers grinning at the camera. I smiled back at them and began to read.

All too soon, I was interrupted. "There you are," Conrad said. I groaned. What did he want with me? Let me guess – part of his training regime for quidditch mandated a punching bag and he wanted me to volunteer. "Where's your owl?"

"Why?" No way was I letting him get ahold of Summer. He would probably strangle her, or something.

"I need to send a letter." It was probably a package full of poison.

I looked up at him, wondering if eye contact would help with my mental telepathy. Get out. Get out. Get out. Nope, wasn't working. Pity. "Use your own owl."

"I don't have one." Well, then, there you are. Your parents didn't want you to have an owl with you for a reason, dimwit. Honestly, did he do his best to drive them to an early grave? I didn't like Aunt Calypso or Uncle Clive very much, but in that moment, I had a bit of pity for them. It couldn't be easy, having an idiot like that for a son.

"Well, you can't use mine," I said, returning my eyes to my book. Maybe if I ignored him he would go away. "She's out." Over time, Dumbledore's Army grew into more than just a DADA club. We became a rebel group, fighting for justice within Hogwarts.

"Then how the hell am I supposed to send my letter?" He should wash out his mouth with a bar of soap.

"Try the post office," I told him. Honestly, you would think that he had never had to function a day in the muggle world. Then again, he probably hadn't. "Three blocks to the right, on your left."

"You want me to use a muggle post office?" Pureblood jerk. "I'm not sending a letter to a muggle." And stupid on top of it.

This wasn't working. I couldn't read with him in the room. I closed my book, careful not to lose my place, and did what I did best: I left.

I found myself doing a lot of that over the next few days. Sarah's warning to make things easier for Dad was pretty much constantly on my mind. Most of the time, it wasn't even a problem. It's not like he was ever home. I thought it would be okay. I told myself that I lived under the same roof as Conrad nine months out of the year. But Hogwarts was very big, and my house was very small. Eventually, I just gave up. When he entered a room, I would exit it. Of course that didn't work for meals, but I managed pretty well for the rest of the day.

The only thing that gave me a little satisfaction was that my plan worked perfectly. With Conrad in the house, the Ministry couldn't blame me for doing magic. I would just put it all on him if they tried. So I brewed up a nifty little potion I'd found and coated a long piece of rope in it. It took me a couple of nights (during each of which I heard Conrad sneaking out) but by the end of his third night there I had a nice magic net. I set it up by the living room, right by the front door. He tried to leave and BAM. Caught in the net. The potion guaranteed that he wouldn't be trying to leave again. It promoted an irrational fear of being in whatever situation one is in when one comes in contact with the potion. It was really quite brilliant. After that, Conrad never left the house.

I, however, was completely free. Or, rather, as free as anyone could be when they had an overprotective aunt. I couldn't even go to Diagon Alley without her wanting to know where I was going, who I would be with, how long I would be gone, and why I was going. By the time she had finished interrogating me, I was running late.

I showed up at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes about ten minutes after one, when I was supposed to meet Maya. I didn't see her out front, .

It was chaotic in there, to say the least. Always busy, the pre-school rush had pushed them over the edge. There were staff-people in magenta robes everywhere. About a third of them were redheads. I cringed just to look at them. Their hair really just looked terrible with the robes.

One of the employees (thankfully not a redhead) ambushed me as I meandered about. His nametag read James III.

"Hello, there," he said, grinning at me. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm just looking," I told him, and made to go.

"Ah, but for what?" he asked. "That's always the question. True love?" He pulled a hideous pink vial from his pocket. "Or something a little more sophisticated?"

I snorted. "I don't think this place knows the meaning of the word sophisticated."

"You'd be surprised," he said with a wink that was supposed to be charming. "Come here." He grabbed my arm and suddenly I found myself in a – heaven forbid – quiet corner of the shop. "Our back room," he said, grinning at my surprise. "Our secret stash, you might say."

I yanked my arm away and picked up one of the boxes on the shelves. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," I read, rather surprised. "Isn't that stuff really old? It was used in the Second Wizarding War."

"History buff, are you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. I glared at him, but he just smiled. "Yes, it was used during the Second War. But it's the best stuff out there."

"It works better if you add methanol," I said. "Not too much, of course, and you have to alter it so it isn't dangerous, but it extends the amount of time it lasts."

His eyebrow nearly flew off his face, as he raised it even higher. "A history buff and good at potions," he said. "Is there anything you can't do?"

I raised an eyebrow of my own. "Don't you have better places to be than talking with some nerd?"

He just smiled. "Nerds are my favorite sorts of people. My aunt's one, you know. She even teaches at Hogwarts."

"Professor Weasley," I said. "The charms teacher." She was one of the better professors - she actually knew her stuff, unlike most of them.

"That's the one," he said cheerfully. "Tell her I say hi when you see her, will you? Fred too. And Neville."

"I'm not on a first term basis with any of them," I informed him. Professor Longbottom was okay, but he was always favoring Gryffindors. And Coach Weasley? As if I'd ever get within ten feet of a broomstick.

"Give them my name and maybe you will be. Here, take this," he said, dropping a crate of Instant Darkness Powder into my arms.

"I don't have any money," I protested, but I couldn't help thinking of exactly what I would do with so much of it.

"On the house," he said. I glared at him. No way was I accepting charity from this random stranger. He quickly elaborated. "See if you can't improve it with that muggle chemical of yours. Go talk to Aunt Rose – she'll be glad to help, though she is rubbish at potions."

"Why?" I asked him. Maybe he was mad. That would explain it. "Won't the owners be mad?"

"Nah," he said with a grin. "They'll understand."

"I still don't understand." And I wasn't leaving until I did.

"Look at it this way," he said. "It's an investment, okay? You take that Instant Darkness Powder and maybe you use some of it for yourself, but you also use some of it to improve it. Then you tell us what you did, and we get a better product. And on top of all that, we have a bright – what are you, a fifth year?"

"Sixth."

"We have a bright sixth year who already knows and likes us. Who knows? Maybe we'll hire you when you're out of school."

"I'm planning on doing some good in this world," I told him. Me, working in a joke shop? That was a joke in and of itself.

He shrugged. "Either way, it's a win-win deal. What do you say?"

"I'll do it," I decided. It should keep me occupied, at any rate. And it could come in useful if I needed to make a quick getaway.

"Great!" he said. He shrunk the crate and made it less heavy before tucking it my bag. "Nice doing business with you, Miss…"

"Lucas," I told him, with just the barest hint of a smile. "Abigail Lucas."

"Nice to meet you," he said, solemnly extending a hand. Well, as solemnly as anyone who was constantly laughing could.

"Abby?" Maya's voice floated back towards us. "Abby, where are you?"

"Here," I said, emerging from the back room. The sudden change in noise took me by surprise.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the front of the store. "Let's get out of here; it's absolutely packed. I'm so, so sorry I'm late - Mum wanted me talk to me about some boy or another she wants to set me up with. She's mental, I swear. Of all the days she could have picked to pay attention to me - anyway, and then the tube was running late, and now I'm late and-"

"It's fine," I assured her. Maybe it had even been a good thing. I did get a lot of Instant Darkness Powder out of it.

She had to get her school supplies, so we went to all the usual places, comparing our summers as we always did.

"At least you have some peace and quiet," she said. "My mum is constantly dragging us everywhere. And Mari's no help at all."

"There's no peace at my house anymore," I complained. "You'll never guess who we have staying with us."

"Sarah's not home, is she?" Maya asked.

"I wish."

"Who, then?"

"Who do I hate, more than anyone else on the planet?" I asked her.

"Lynn Greengrass?"

"Worse."

"Not..." Her face fell in sympathy. "Merlin's beard, Abby, not Conrad!"

I nodded. "Yup."

"But why?" she demanded. "No one in your family likes him."

"I don't know," I said. "Just that he got in some sort of trouble and his parents needed to banish him."

"And so you're suffering? That doesn't seem fair."

"It isn't," I huffed.

"If it's any consolation, I have to put up with Mari," she offered.

"How did your mum take your grades?" I asked. She snorted.

"How do you think? It was all 'You're never going to get a boyfriend if you keep this up.' She bragged more about Mari's grades than mine."

"Mari's grades were horrible!"

"I know!" We considered in a similar vein until she finished her shopping. Then she turned to me with a set expression on her face.

"Nick's throwing a party the night before school starts," she said. "Before you say no, think about it. It'll get you away from Conrad!"

"I'm not going to any party," I told her. Honestly, she should know better than to ask by now.

"It's not going to be that big," she said. "Just the sixth years, and maybe a fifth year or two. Nothing wild. Just think of it - a whole night, away from Conrad."

"You won't guilt me into it," I warned her.

"Fine, fine," she said, but ten minutes later, at the end another rant about Conrad, she said, "You see? You have to come to the party."

I sighed. She did have a point. I would have done pretty much anything to get away from Conrad at that point. But I wasn't giving in without a fight. "I don't see why," I said. "It's not like they want me there anyway." If I wasn't Maya's friend I wouldn't even know the party existed. I didn't get along well with my year-mates.

"What are you talking about?" she said. "Everyone likes you."

I snorted. Yeah, right. Professor Longbottom will become a Death Eater before that happens. And more importantly: "But I don't want to go." What would I even do at a party?

"You never do anything fun," she huffed.

"I do pleanty of fun things," I protested. Like reading. And studying.

"Studying doesn't count," she said. I groaned. She knew me way too well.

"I wasn't going to say that!"

She ignored me, just asking again, "So will you come?"

"No."

But she didn't give up. The whole time we were in Flourish and Blotts she kept pestering me about it. She told me all about how much fun it would be, how many people I "liked" would be there, how few people I hated would be present, how I should drink away my Conrad troubles.

"You know I don't drink," I snapped at her. Why was she making such a big deal about some stupid party? It's not like Nick wanted me there. I doubted that he knew I existed.

She smirked. "There's a first time for everything."

"When you're of age." I wasn't about to get myself arrested for underage drinking, I mean, of all the stereotypical stupid things to do.

"To each his own." Maya shrugged. I wanted to say it would more likely be "To each her own," seeing as we were both female, but before I could she was talking again. "But promise you'll come to the party on Saturday?"

I groaned. "Fine." If only to shut her up. "But only for an hour." An hour in that hellhole ought to be more than enough.

"Unless of course you want to stay longer," she said, her eyes twinkling.

I glared at her. "One hour." Another thought occurred to me. "What on earth am I supposed to wear to one of those things?"

Maya's face nearly burst with joy. "You can borrow one of my dresses," she said. "I know the perfect one. Come on, let's go make sure it fits."

I shut my eyes. The next few hours were going to be agony, I just knew it. Maya's mom loathed me.

That was nothing to how I felt four nights later, as I stood in my room staring at myself in the mirror. The dress Maya had forced on me was black, thank goodness, and nothing compared to the other things she had in her closet. I wasn't even sure if you could call half of those clothes. They certainly didn't cover much. Mari came in halfway through with some "helpful suggestions". Maya's stuff looked much better after that.

Even this one, the most modest of the lot, showed far more skin than I was used to. The neck was uncomfortably low - almost four fingers past my collar bone - and the skirt higher than I was used to. I had no idea what to do with my hair, so I just let it lay flat.

This was exactly why I had been so reluctant to go to the party. I had no freaking idea of what was expected of me. I had seen parties, sure; there was one in the common room every time Ravenclaw won a big quidditch match. But I normally spent those huddled in my dorm with a book. I couldn't do that here. Why had I let Maya talk me into this?

I was reminded when my obnoxious cousin poked his head into my room. "What the hell are you wearing that for?" he demanded. For once in my life, I was in agreement with him. But still, it was Conrad, and I had my principles to uphold.

"Why do you care?"

"Cause there's nothing else to care about in this damn place. Where are you going, all dressed up?"

"If you must know, there's a party tonight."

"You at a party?" He laughed at the very idea. I turned back to the mirror with a frown. Who said I couldn't go to a party if I wanted. "A party?" he said again. "Where?"

"It's for sixth years." No way did I want him showing up.

"Where is it?" he repeated, drawing his wand - a wand he could legally use, unlike the one that was on my dresser.

"Nick Davies' house," I said resentfully. "You don't know him."

"Doesn't matter," he said with a grin. And then, thank Merlin, he left. I sighed and figured it wasn't my business anyway. I wasn't his babysitter.

I showed up at the party at about half an hour in. I figured at that point, there would be enough people that I wouldn't have to talk to any of them. Maya had other plans.

"Abby!" she called the instant I walked through the door. She had a cup of something alcoholic in her hand. I grimaced at it, but she just grinned. There was some stupid pop song pounding in my ears and a lot of people there - practically our whole year - as well as some others that I didn't recognize. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," I said. "I don't fancy being arrested."

"Maya!" Brianna Clearwater appeared at her side. "Hi!" The two of them chatted about quidditch for a moment and I wondered if it was possible to sneak out while Maya was distracted. Then Brianna was on her way again and Maya returned to me.

"What exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" I asked her.

"Having fun!" she cried.

"I don't know how to have fun, remember?" But she was already off, dragging me with her to go talk to someone else. I lost track of the number of people we talked to - or rather, the people she talked to while I stood by awkwardly.

Then the perfect Logan King - literally the king of Hogwarts - emerged from the melee of people. Maya instantly turned to him and just like that - she was in popular person mode. It wasn't so much that she forgot about me as that she simply never hung out with me when Logan and the others like him were around. I tended to disappear when they showed up.

So that's what I did. I made my way over to the punch bowl, which thankfully wasn't that crowded. I looked at the punch and frowned. What were the chances it was spiked? I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

"Hey," someone said. It took me a moment to figure out he was talking to me. I turned and it was Nick Davies, our gracious host. Why was he talking to me? "Have you seen Maya?" Of course. Why else would anyone take note of me?

"She's talking to Logan," I said. He looked around like an idiot. I sighed. "By the staircase."

"Oh, well, we wouldn't want to interrupt them now, would we?" He grinned like an idiot. Why wasn't he going away?

I shrugged. "Whatever you say." I reached around him for the cup, still unsure if I was going to try the punch but feeling more and more open to the idea with every word he said.

He caught my arm. "Come on, Abby, have a little fun."

Who was this guy, why was he talking to me, why in Merlin's name was he holding onto my arm, and who gave him permission to call me Abby? I pulled away from him sharply and treated him to my best glare. "Maybe you haven't noticed in the, oh, I don't know, six years we've known each other: I. Don't. Do. Fun. And don't call me Abby." That punch was looking more appetizing by the moment. See what this idiot had done to me? I was considering drinking punch that was probably spiked just to get away from him! I knew coming to that stupid party was a bad idea.

"You let Maya call you that," he said. I scowled.

"That's Maya." Maya was special. Maya knows me, I wanted to say. Maya is my friend. There are two people on the planet who can call me Abby, and you are not one of them, so just bugger off already!

Clearly, my glare was working, as he began stuttering, "Well, anyhow, nice chatting with you." Ha. "Looks like Maya and Logan are done with their little talk. See you at school." Yeah, right. Cause he was totally going to remember this conversation at school.

I glared at his back. Maya threw him a grin as he passed by her and Logan. Something in my stomach clenched and I turned on my heel and headed towards the door. I had had enough of socializing. It was good to see that I had missed out on absolutely nothing in my sixteen years of avoiding parties like this.