Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OCs. Everything that you recognise belongs to J K Rowling.

Al was going to die. First his eyes would bulge out of their sockets, then he'd choke on his own spit as he tried to breathe through his horror and mortification, and then he'd keel over and end himself. Slowly. Excruciatingly. He'd dig his wand out of his back pocket and impale himself on it. It wouldn't work, because that's not exactly the most effective way to use a wand, but, fuck. He'd do it. He'd try. And if the agony was too much for him, I'd be the kindest cousin in the world by ripping his wand from his skinny little chest and sticking it right up his –

"Blair, darling? Are you quite alright?"

Play it cool. Play it fucking freezing.

"I'm good, Mum," I answered, trying to sound offhand and casual. "Just got good news, is all."

My mother cautiously put her fork down and cast an anxious glance over at my father, who was doing a commendable job of ignoring the owl that was placidly helping itself to his toast. "From… School?"

Daddy made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a squeak.

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes as I clenched my fist tighter around my shiny new badge. "Yeah. Look, Mum. D'you mind if I head down to the Potters' house for a bit? I know I said I'd help trim the hedge with you, but I can get that done in a trice at night when no one is looking, anyways."

Dad put his fork down and sighed, rubbing his face. Mum cleared her throat nervously. "Of course, darling. Go right on ahead."

Beaming, I slid Daddy's plate from under the beak of the indignant owl, tossed said owl out into the bright morning, snagged my Hogwarts letter and wand from the table, blew an air kiss at my parents, and ran into the living room, where I Disapparated with a loud crack.

I was already hollering for Al when I landed in his family's foyer. A collection of groans sounded in response in the direction of the kitchen, so I thundered right over.

All the Potters were gathered around the kitchen table in varying degrees of awakeness – Lily was happily spooning Magic Charms into her mouth, James was already dressed for the day, but he was conked out and drooling on the table, Uncle Harry was in the middle of a tremendous yawn, and Al… Al was glaring at his Hogwarts letter like it had fucking stolen his firstborn.

"Morning, Potters!" I plunked myself down beside Al and ruffled his hair cheerfully. This heralded another chorus of mumbling moans – Aunt Ginny was the only whose greeting was actually coherent.

She waved a spoon at me from her place beside Uncle Harry, gesturing towards a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. "G'morning, Blair. Have a pancake. Or ten. What brings you here all bright and early?"

I grinned at her and nudged Al with my shoulder. He had to pay attention to this. He grumbled and narrowed his eyes at me.

I slowly opened my fist to reveal a gleaming, silver Quidditch Captain badge.

There was a heartbeat of silence before Al threw his head back and howled.

James jerked upright in his chair, almost spilling his juice. "Expeli- Oh. Blair. Woah. Blair." Smirking at Al, he summoned the syrup from across the table. "Tough luck, little Asp."

Al flipped him off while continuing with his little tantrum.

Harry squinted at the badge in my hand before smiling broadly at me. "Congratulations, Blair. How's Dudley taking it?"

I shrugged. It wasn't like Daddy actually knew what Quidditch was. Uncle Harry made a sympathetic noise and summoned me a plate.

Al had stopped howling and was now trying to take the badge from me by force. He almost collided with the plate flying through the air, and would have if I hadn't snatched it as it was inches from his face. I set it down, right next to my own Hogwarts letter, and shoved him back into his chair.

Lily watched us with interest. "Looks like you're just going to have to be cool with Head Boy, Al."

James sniggered at this as he drizzled syrup liberally onto his pancakes. "I can't believe that you're actually disappointed that you didn't get both."

Al made a sound of anguish and hunched over his breakfast. It was then that I noticed a glint of silver peeking out from under a napkin. "I didn't want both. I just wanted to be Quidditch Captain." He pushed the serving plate of pancakes over to me with a scowl. "Thief. We're going to lose the cup this year. Lose it to fucking Gryffindor."

Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny both coughed loudly, and I couldn't help but giggle. Circe's tits, Al was such a snake. "Love you too, Al."

He grunted, and I began forking pancakes onto my plate.

Thing is, I do love Al, and he loves me. Not in that fuckshit inbred creepy kind of way, but in the bro, I got you, kind of way. After years of awkward Christmas get-togethers with our fathers sitting in silence as we laid out train tracks on the living room carpet, Al and I finally had something in common: magic. We were practically joined at the hip during our first shopping trip to Diagon Alley, and that bond only solidified once both of us were sorted into Slytherin. Apparently, I was the first muggleborn to be sorted into Slytherin in centuries, and there had been some unpleasantness during my first week. Al, Scorpius Malfoy and I were kind of the Slytherin misfits that banded together over being ostracised (Scorp's dad had been a death-eater and people didn't really know how to deal with that either) for much of the first year until people got used to us and realised that the three of us were really fucking awesome.

Vernon Dursley's granddaughter: Hogwarts Queen. Not that he knows, of course. We decided that it was best that grandpa Vernon and grandma Petunia not know that their little Bearhug is a witch.

When McGonagall came to tell my parents that I was a magical child, my father got extremely pink extremely fast and flipped the fuck out.

It was a pretty good thing that Uncle Harry had come along for the ride, because he knew how he was going to react. Dudley Dursley was tolerant of his cousin's magic – and there was an undertone of ashamed gratefulness that always struck me as curious – but his own child being magical was something else entirely.

My mother was clearly at a loss as to what to do while my father paced about the living room in a state of agitation while patting his arse, so Uncle Harry basically took me under his wing and glued Al to me. He'd taken both Al and I to Diagon Alley to get our school stuff – starting a tradition of me doing pre-school shopping with the Potters every year – and sat me down, telling me to be patient with Daddy. It wasn't easy to for the son of the greatest muggle alive to handle having a magical child.

I understood that. I was always a little bit of a daddy's girl growing up – my mother was pretty much nervous all the time, and I was loud, a bit of a tomboy, and outgoing. Daddy channelled my boundless energy into sports: I took to tennis, swimming, and lacrosse like a doxy to a curtain.

There was only one sport at Hogwarts, and I took to that, too.

During my first Christmas holiday back home, Daddy invited Uncle Harry and his family over for dinner as a sort of thank-you for dealing with my magic for him. Uncle Harry noted that the start of my Hogwarts career was nothing short of tremendously ironic: I was a muggleborn sorted into Slytherin, I was doing well in classes, and I was flying like a fucking pro (for an eleven-year old).

Daddy had nodded, mumbled about how glad he was that I was doing well in school, and offered Uncle Harry more port.

Thing is, I know that Daddy's proud of me, in his own way. I mean, what parent wouldn't be pleased that their kid is doing well in school? But it's difficult for him to understand the concept of magic, so we just don't discuss it. At all.

"Well, I'm off!" James got up noisily and scourgified his plate in the sink. "Off to work, bright and early."

It's Saturday morning, but James is a junior auror, so weekends mean nothing to him.

"Be careful, Jamie. The One World rally is today, and I don't like the look of them."

James smiled and leaned over to give Aunt Ginny a peck on the cheek. "No worries, Mum. I'll be fine. Everyone likes the look of me."

And he was off.

Al cleared up the rest of his pancakes with a flourish, swallowing the last bite whole. "Shall we go to Diagon Alley, Mum? We might as well get our books for the year."

Aunt Ginny pursed her lips. "But the rally-"

"- It'll be fine," Al said, giving her his most winning grin. I raised my eyebrows; I'd completely forgotten that the rally was scheduled for this afternoon at Diagon Alley when I came over here, but now that Aunt Ginny's mentioned it, I'd really prefer to avoid doing my shopping with a billion other people standing around listening to some dude declaim. "Please?" Al wheedled, widening his big green eyes from behind his glasses. "We can go to Wheezes and say hi to Uncle George."

Something in my brain clicked. Ah. So that's what he's on about. Sweet Circe; Al is such a boy.

"Harry?"

Uncle Harry frowned, absently rubbing his scar. "I reckon that it would be fine. If you're willing to put up with the crush of people wandering about, the aurors should have the speakers cordoned off in a space."

Al beamed. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best. Eat up, Lils! We'll go in an hour."

"Should we ask Scorp to meet us there?"

"Sure. Why not? I'll owl the lazy prat. See you back here at ten?"

I nodded, shovelling the last of my breakfast into my mouth and grabbing my letter, badge and wand. "You sure you don't want an extra hour to get your hair right, mate?"

Al's scowl was back. "Ten."

You could see Lily's ears prick forward. "Is that it?" She snickered, clearing up the remnants of her cereal. "You sap."

A dull flush began to creep into Al's cheeks. Laughing, I Disapparated before he could smack me. What a sap.

"Merlin's balls, Al. You drag us all the bloody way here, and you can't even speak to her?"

"D'you need a wingman, mate? I think she still might fancy me from second year, though."

"You're an arse, Scorpius."

"Shut up!" Al whirled around to where Scorp and I were bickering behind a shelf of Extendable Ears. "She is going to hear you and think I'm a loser who hangs out with the biggest tossers in sodding Great Britain. Shut up. I've got this."

Unimpressed, Scorp and I both folded our arms.

"You're already a loser, Al," Scorp pointed out. "The only way to go is up."

I peered out from behind the shelf. "She's coming this way!" I hissed, and unceremoniously thrust Al out into the aisle. "Oy, Julia!" I called, and ducked back into our hiding place.

"You're a real piece of work, Dursley."

"Shut up. I'll do the same thing for you with Rose."

Scorp clamped his mouth shut and tried to Avada me with his eyes. Didn't work.

"Hey, Al!"

I could feel Al's panic before he took a fortifying breath and replied Julia Jordan. "Hey, Jules."

"I thought I heard Dursley somewhere."

A nervous laugh. "Err, no. She's off snogging Goyle in the alleyway behind Flourish and Blotts."

Wanker!

Julia laughed uncertainly, and I didn't need to peek out into the aisle to know that she was fiddling with her hair and slowly backing away. I felt like stabbing myself in the face.

"Well, um. Good for her. Are you doing your shopping?"

"Yes. Are you?" Beside me, Scorp slapped his hand to his face and began shaking his head very slowly.

"Um, no. I'm working." Which you knew full well, since you insisted on coming today.

"Right. You look nice."

"Thanks," she replied dryly. "I'm going back to work, now. Tell your friends that I can see the backs of their heads from here. I'll see you on the train to school. 'Ta, Al. Dursley. Malfoy."

A moment later, a red-faced Al poked his head back around the shelf. "You are both idiots. 'Cunning' my arse."

Scorp lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, Al. The firewhiskey glass is half full. Maybe this is the year that she'll finally let you slither into her Chamber of Secrets."

"I'll even relinquish my space in the alleyway behind Flourish and Blotts," I added, laying my hand on his other shoulder.

"Merlin, you're both so crude." Al grumpily shrugged our hands off his shoulders and started for the door. "Keep up. We might as well finish our shopping. I'll bet that Mum and Lily are already half done."

"Lily will never be done with shopping."

"True."

The crush of people milling about Diagon Alley seemed to have intensified since we stepped into Wheezes fifteen minutes ago, and they were all congregating around a platform set up in a little square in front of Gringotts. "My friends, what a cloistered life we lead!" someone cried. "We are imprisoned in our villages, we are hiding in our homes! Why do we shy from our neighbours? Why do we set ourselves apart from those we call muggles?"

"Looks like the One World rally's started," Scorp observed, noting the grim-faced aurors in their black robes stationed around the square as we drew closer. A tall young wizard in scarlet robes was prancing around on the platform, and I wondered if he was going to fall off in his excitement.

"We are part of this society," the man bellowed. "The International Statute of Secrecy has hindered us for far too long. We live in an era of change and acceptance; it is time for us to mingle honestly amongst muggles. We all – witches, wizards, women, and men – we are one people; we are one world!"

And with a theatrical little bow, he swept his wand through the air. Thousands of flyers burst into being and rained down upon us – curious, I snatched one from the air and scanned through it as the crowd began to disperse. It was basically a rehash of what the wizard in red had been wailing about – claiming that the International Statute was an archaic relic of the ancient witch trials, and that we were better off merging the wizarding and muggle worlds.

I didn't buy it. There was a reason why we had to be kept separate. Personally, I think grandpa Vernon would die if we ever did mix the worlds, and he wouldn't be the only one. There were a whole lot of people who were downright adamant that magic was unnatural, and that witchcraft, and anything alluding to witchcraft, was pure evil. Apart from that, it would just be difficult for people to adjust to a world with magic. These One World people were setting the stage for absolute anarchy.

Al jostled my shoulder, knocking the flyer out of my hand and breaking into my thoughts. "C'mon, Blair. Let's go. I've got to get a new cauldron. Mine hasn't been the same since we tried to brew the Draught of Living Death at the start of last year."

Scorp slung an arm around Al patronisingly. "You mean you tried to brew it. I brewed it."

"Prat."

I glanced back towards the square as people began moving around – some picked a flyer up, whilst others trampled them into the cobblestones. This movement would probably fizzle out in a couple of months, but still. It left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Rolling my shoulders, I hurried onwards, catching up with my best friends. Someone else would deal with the One World rubbish. I had a couple of couples to get together, NEWTs to ace, and a house team to lead to glory. Thrusting my hand into the pocket of my jacket, I rubbed my Quidditch captain badge for comfort.

It was going to be a great year. It had to be.

A/N: JK Rowling once said that she considered having Dudley Dursley on the platform of Nine and Three-Quarters in the Epilogue to the Deathly Hallows, but struck it off because no magical genes could possibly survive being mixed with Vernon Dursley's. But magic is magical, so never say never! Let me know what you think about this!