The air was chilly as I walked down to the Quidditch Pitch. The sun was hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rich green grass. Sean was waiting for me in the center of the stadium, wearing a cable-knit golden-brown sweater and holding a strapped trunk. He waved enthusiastically when he saw me.

"Oh, good." Sean said approvingly as I made my way to him. "You've brought your wand. But where's your broom?"

I blushed. "Sorry, I forgot." I waved my ash wand. "Accio Silver Arrow!"

There was a long, broom-less pause, in which I felt even more heat rise into my cheeks. I glared at my wand. "Sorry. It's been acting up lately. It's like it doesn't want to listen to me anymore."

Sean raised his brows. "Well, that is an advanced spell… you're not supposed to learn that until your fourth-" he broke off, pointing to the stands were the Hufflepuffs normally stood. "...year."

The Silver Arrow was zooming over the rise, glinting in the late afternoon sun. To my astonishment, it halted beside me, quivering slightly. I looked back at my wand. Apparently, it could choose if it wanted to obey me or not.

"That was… odd." I said, frowning as I stowed my wand.

Sean shrugged, nonplussed. "That's a nice broomstick you've got there. I've got a Cleansweep Six. Bought it my second year when I made the Quidditch Team at Quality Quidditch Supplies in London. You've been there?"

"That's where I got mine." I admitted. "And the clerk tried to sell me a Cleansweep Six. But this one was the one for me." I patted the handle of the silver broomstick fondly.

Sean looked pleased. "Excellent. Well, let's start with the basics. Have you ever played Quidditch before?"

I glanced away at a patch of particularly scuffed-up grass. "Well… no. Not really."

Sean clasped his hands. "No matter. You've got Quidditch in your blood, I can tell, Miss Harkstone." He winked as he emphasized my last name.

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

Sean grinned. "So modest. Alright, so, let's move on." Before I could open my mouth to speak, he opened the trunk and pulled out a soccer-sized maroon ball.

"This here is the quaffle." Sean told me, offering it to me. "The quaffle earns ten points for every score. It's the Chasers job to shoot them through the hoops."

He tossed it easily at me. I fumbled for a second but caught on. It was about the same weight as a volleyball. The smooth leather felt nice against my finger pads.

"This nasty thing is a bludger. It's the beater's jobs to hit them." Sean went on, brandishing his arm out to block me. "You might want to stand back."

I took a hesitant step back. Sure enough, the moment Sean released the struggling black ball, it shot straight into the air like a cannon. I gaped as it zoomed around lethally, making little noises of enragement, looking for a target. It made a sharp turn and shot like a bullet straight for us.

WHAM! Sean whacked the bludger with a thick black bat. The bludger was sent careening away to the far end of the pitch, where three tall spoon-like hoops stood fifty feet off the ground. The bludger sailed through the middle one.

I grinned. "That was awesome."

Sean flexed his arms. "It's fun to hit them. But it's a nasty lot of trouble if they hit you." He rummaged through the trunk once more and pulled out a golf-ball sized sphere, glittering gold in the sunlight and struggling against his closed fingers. Tiny wings beat furiously, like a trapped hummingbird.

"This is what earns the most points, and ends the game." Sean explained. "This is a Snitch."

"Very cool." I murmured.

"The Seeker's job is to find this little piece of work and then catch it first." Sean said, releasing the little golden orb. It hovered above us, fluttering its golden wings. "It wins 150 points and ends the game."

I watched the Snitch zoom after the Bludger. I squinted into the beams of late sunlight. "James Potter plays Seeker for Gryffindor. He catches that thing."

Sean raised a brow. "You're another fan of his?"

I made a retching noise. "James Potter? Are you kidding me? I'm surprised he can fly at all with that fat head of his."

Sean smirked. "I'm glad we feel the same way."

He gestured to his broom and mine. "Feel like trying a practice run?"

This is what I had been waiting for. My heart sprinted inside of my chest, slicking my palms with sweat. I grinned in spite of my physical reaction. "Absolutely."

Sean nodded and mounted his broom. "It's really a shame you were Sorted into Ravenclaw and not Hufflepuff, like your folks."

I had half-raised a leg to climb aboard my waiting Silver Arrow. "What?" I said slowly, unable to look at him. A strange feeling of angry heat had risen inside of me at his words.

Sean rose into the air. "Your mum and dad. They were Hufflepuffs."

I finished climbing onto my Silver Arrow. Slowly, I rose up to meet him in the air, hovering ten feet above the solid ground. I willed myself not to look down.

"Yeah, so what?" I said bitterly. "I'm a Ravenclaw. I'm the black sheep of the family. 'Everyone's been in Hufflepuff, you're such a disappointment!'" I mimicked my mother's voice. "Trust me, I've been reminded often enough that I'm not a Hufflepuff. I'm the first Harkstone ever not to be Sorted in Hufflepuff. I get it."

Sean blinked. "Blimey, I didn't know. I'm sorry. Ravenclaw's still a great House. All of the smart people go there. Your parents should be proud of you anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "There's more to Ravenclaw than being smart. It's also about wisdom, creativity, originality, and acceptance."

Sean shrugged good-naturedly. "Very well. As long as you're not a Slytherin. I'm not a fan of Lucius Malfoy or his little gang. Glad he graduated last year."

I glanced up at the slowly darkening sky. The Snitch glinted high above me. "Should we practice?"

Sean cleared his throat. "Sure. Try passing the Quaffle to me and catching it. Just to get a feel for things."

I obliged and held onto the handle with one hand and tossed the Quaffle with the other. It sailed through the air. Sean caught it deftly with one hand.

"Good." He said, pleased. "Catch."

He underhanded an easy catch. I wobbled dangerously on my broom but didn't fall. Heart pounding, I swallowed and aimed.

"Don't throw like a girl." Sean said just before I threw. "Don't be afraid to hurt me. I can take a punch or two. Quidditch can be a rough game."

I studied his face intently and then recalculated how hard I would throw my pass. I strained my muscles and flung the Quaffle as hard as I could, nearly sending me off my broom.

It flew almost twice as far as my first throw. Sean shot off to catch it. He looked very pleased.

"You've got a cannon arm!" He said jubilantly. "It's rare for girls to have them. You must be like your dad."

I lifted a brow, rising higher in the air without really noticing how much space I was putting between myself and the earth. "Why do you keep mentioning him?"

Sean looked surprised. "Don't you know? You're just joking with me… You seriously don't know, do you?"
I circled him lazily, watching for the Snitch and the deadly Bludger. "Do you know him somehow? Or something that I don't?"

Sean bounced the Quaffle once in his hand and passed it back to me. I missed it. Sean dived and caught it just before it hit the ground. The Bludger whizzed manically around and around the pitch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we were there.

"Your dad was one of the best Chasers Hufflepuff ever had. One of the best Hogwarts ever had." Sean said. "Didn't you know that?"

I stared at Sean. I caught his pass and threw it back, missing him by several feet. "No… he never…"

I thought back to my childhood. I had always remembered Dad working long hours at the Ministry. He had his hobby farm at the house that he and Mum used to teach my sisters and I about agriculture and crops. But he had never taught me to play Quidditch. Granted, he would come home sometimes when I was younger, smelling of smoke and alcohol and telling Mum excitedly about the latest Quidditch match he'd seen in London. But he had never mentioned playing at school.

"That's so odd." Sean said. "He's in the Trophy Room. One of the best athletes Hufflepuff ever produced, he was. My aunt Willow said he could have played for England if he hadn't gone to work for the Ministry instead."

I shook my head. "I wonder why he never told me. Professor Smith is your aunt, you mean, right?"

Part of me wondered if Sean was just making this up to impress me or play. But he didn't seem the mischievous type like Sirius or James.

"Yeah, her first name is Willow. Well, let's keep practicing." Sean said bracingly. "Come on. Let's go over to the hoops and see how good you are at scoring."

An hour later, the sun had set and I had scored my first four goals in our mock-game. We had circled the pitch several times, and I found myself forgetting how high off the ground I was and instead relishing the feel of the wind rushing through my hair and over my face. I was addicted to that sense of triumph whenever I caught the Quaffle or sent it sailing through a hoop.

"Alright, that's enough for today." Sean said, nearly colliding with the wandering bludger. "I can hardly see in front of me."

We descended. Sean dismounted as if he'd been doing it all his life, while I skidded ungracefully and almost bounced off.

"That was great." I said, grinning in spite of my windburned face and the fact that my fingers and toes were now completely numb. "I can't believe I've waited this long to try."

Sean was putting away the Quaffle. "You've got a lot of promise, Harkstone, but this was a lot different than playing with a full team or against another. And it's different when there's a whole school watching you and keeping score."

"I know." I said, scratching the back of my head. My hair felt cold and higher, windswept. "When are tryouts?"

"Usually the first week of October." Sean replied, waving his wand without speaking. A moment later the Snitch fluttered over and allowed him to place it back inside of the trunk. A moment later the Bludger shot towards him, but he waved his wand once more and the Bludger froze in midair.

"Nonverbal magic." Sean explained as he strapped the immobile ball in the trunk and shut the lid. "You'll learn more of that in your sixth and seventh years."

"Looking forward to it." I said honestly as I followed him back towards the castle. The grounds were dark and covered in deep shadows. A handful of stars glittered in the indigo sky.

"So," Sean said casually, "you seem pretty close with those Gryffindor boys."

"I hope you're not talking about James and Sirius." I said acidly. "Don't be fooled. We might seem like it, but we aren't exactly fans of each other."

"Well, I figured that much already." Sean said easily, grinning as he held the trunk in one hand and his broom in the other. "What about that Lupin boy?"

"What about him?" I asked as we ascended the stone steps.

"Well," Sean said, "you seem awfully close with him and Lily Evans."

I thought of my redhaired friend with a pang. "We aren't really talking right now," I said baldly. "Me and Lily. We don't… we just… girl stuff." I finished lamely.

Sean waved his hand. "No matter. I was just curious. So you'd say that this Lupin doesn't have any plans to ask you to the ball this Christmas?"

I glanced at him. "I don't suppose so. I'm only thirteen."

"You act much older, though." Sean said kindly, and I felt my face flush.

"Thanks." I said, not sure what else to say.

Sean and I were inside the castle again. It was empty, except for the quiet chatter of paintings talking back and forth between each other.

"You'd better get back to Ravenclaw Tower." Sean advised. "Peeves or Filch might be on the lookout."

"What about you?" I shot back. "You could get in trouble too."

Sean grinned and pointed to his pinned-on badge. "Head Boy, remember?"

"Oh." I said, shrugging as I looked towards the four hourglasses that measured the points for each House. Gryffindor's was the lowest. I bet they'll have James and Sirius to thank for that. I thought.

"Well, good work, Harkstone." Sean said honestly. "I think you'll be on the Ravenclaw team no problem if you keep practicing."

"Will you help me again?" I blurted. I shuffled my feet awkwardly. "I need all the help I can get."

Sean looked as if he'd been waiting for me to ask. He bowed low. "Why, of course, my lady. Anything for you."

I laughed and waved him off, though I felt a weird squirming in my gut that wasn't unpleasant. "I'm flattered, sir. I'll… see you around, I guess."

Sean nodded. "Good night, Amber."

He hustled away down a flight of stairs that led to the dungeons. I looked around quickly to make sure no one else was there, and then hurried to the third floor along the moving staircases. The oak door to the room was always unlocked; I pushed through it quickly and let it swing shut behind me.

Glinting in the candlelight was the Trophy Room. Countless shelves and glass cabinets displayed various awards, trophies, cups, plaques, shields, statues and medals. I perused down the aisle. Everything was sorted by date. The vast majority of the collection was dated earlier than the 1900's. Hogwarts had been founded in 990 A.D. Nearly a thousand years worth of honorifics resided here.

It didn't take long for me to find the span of seven years my father would have been in Hogwarts. Born in 1940, he was two years older than my mum, who had arrived two years after he had. Dad would have attended Hogwarts between 1951 and 1958.

The seven years Dad had attended were housed not far from the entrance. Gleaming, polished medals and awards were stationed inside of glass cases and wooden shelves. Pictures of moving people waved and smiled at me as I scanned them for any sign of familiarity. Ancient Studies, Art, Frog Choir, Ghoul Studies, Magical Theory, Muggle Art, Music, Muggle Music, Orchestra, Slug Club…

I sighed in frustration and tried again.

I realized I had skipped over the Charms Club the first time I'd looked. With a start, I saw my mother, years younger and looking quite mischievous, staring at me from the photo of the Charms Club. She posed along with seven other young witches and three wizards. Professor Flitwick, situated at the front and center of the photograph, looked like he himself was fresh out of Hogwarts and back quickly enough to teach. I let myself look at the picture and my teenage mother a few moments longer before tearing my gaze away and looking for my father.

He was at the end of the extracurriculars, next to the Xylomancy Club.

Hogwarts Quidditch House Champions, circa 1950's the label read in prominent golden letters. Each year, it featured a different picture, from 1950 all the way until 1959. Ravenclaw was featured as the champion House in 1950 and again in 1959. But Hufflepuff had won the House cup clean through 1951 through 1958. I peered into the photograph of each year they'd won. Several faces I'd never known smiled up at me. But the one that stood out the most was my father's.

He didn't have gray streaks in his golden hair. His young face was lively, competitive, and smooth. No lines of age or worry marred his smile. He was positioned in each photo holding his own broomstick, in Quidditch robes. In each photo he was holding up the Cup with his teammates in the other hand.

My gaze followed the line of photos to the label at the bottom of the display. A roll of parchment, written in neat black calligraphy, read:

This Certificate of Achievement is to be Immortalized in the Hogwarts Trophy Room for Recognition of Outstanding Excellence in Quidditch of Walter J. Harkstone. Named Daily Prophet's Youngest Promising Athlete in 1958 and Witch Weekly's Favorite New Hogwarts Quidditch Player in 1956, 1957, and 1958. This award commemorates Harkstone's prowess, earning his House the Quidditch Cup in a record-breaking seven-year streak.

I stared at the plaque and my dad's pictures until the windows outside were black with deep night and only the candles illuminated the room. I clutched my Silver Arrow in one hand, so tightly my knuckles turned white.

How could he have not told me? How could he have never mentioned how good he was at Quidditch? Why had he hidden it? And why had Mum never said anything?

There was a scuffling noise, like sandpaper being dragged along a wall. I finally wrenched my gaze away from the trophies and found myself face-to-face with Filch.

"Aha!" Filch cried, holding up a lamp, his skinny cat circling his legs excitedly. "Mrs. Norris told me she'd scented a student out of bed, wandering the corridors… and now you've gone and taken a school broom. And you're in the Trophy Room without permission!"

I gave both of them a baleful look. "I wasn't under the impression that the Trophy Room was out of bounds."

"Out of bounds, my foot!" Filch snarled, his jowls quivering. "You're out of bed, young missy, and giving me cheek to boot! It'll be straight to the dungeons with you!"

I lifted my brow in disdain. "The door was unlocked. I was told the Trophy Room was always open. I was studying… history."

"History, eh?" Filch repeated in disgust. "You're not very smart for a Ravenclaw, lying to me like that! Well, we'll just see what Professor Flitwick would like to do with you! Maybe Professor Kettleburn will use you as bait to catch some gytrashes. Oh, yes, those ghostly dog demons do love young students… especially third year girls…"

I shivered in disgust. "Alright, enough. I'll go with you to see Flitwick. But he'll tell you the same thing I just did. I'm not in trouble."

"We'll just see about that!" Filch yowled, reaching to grab my arm and drag me out, but I jerked away from his reach.

"Don't touch me." I said quietly, drawing my wand, thinking of Folsom and his death-cold hands. "Don't ever put your hands on me."

Filch gaped at me, as if stunned. Then he let out a rasping cough.

"Oho! Cheekiest Ravenclaw I ever did meet, and I've met plenty! Maybe it's time to clip your beak, you little snipe! Come along or I'll have the Kettleburn after you!"

Rolling my eyes, I followed Filch angrily out of the Trophy Room, wishing I could have stayed to learn more about my dad's hidden past. He had been an excellent Quidditch Player… but he'd never told me or my sisters. Why?

We trooped up the stairs towards Flitwick's office on the distant seventh floor. We had been walking for five minutes when there was a loud, booming voice that could only belong to Dumbledore.

"Mr. Filch!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, echoing like thunder in the huge stairwell. "ARGUS FILCH!"

Mr. Filch froze, just like the Bludger had done when Sean had jinxed it. His heavy-lidded eyes bugged open and his jaw dropped open in shock. He looked around wildly, but neither of us could see Dumbledore, or pinpoint where his voice had come from.

"S-sir?" Filch stammered stupidly.

"What ARE you doing with that Ravenclaw girl?" Dumbledore intoned loudly, causing Mrs. Norris to pace very nervously.

Filch gaped stupidly. "Taking her to her Head, Professor Headmaster sir! She was out of bed, wandering the corridors!"

"Release her at once!" Dumbledore demanded.

Filch and I looked around again for the source of his voice, but most of the stairwell was shrouded in shadow. Filch looked outraged and scared.

"But… but sir! She's violating your rules…"

"DID I STUTTER?" Dumbledore roared, and his voice was so terrible that I flinched. Filch jumped a foot and looked as if he'd been hit by something very heavy.

"No… I… I didn't… I'm sorry!" Filch yelped. Mrs. Norris had fled for her life and was gone. Filch was quickly losing steam now that his cohort was absent and the unseen Headmaster was bearing down upon him.

"Apologize!" Dumbledore insisted. "And get back down to the dungeons! There are Slytherins out of bed and I want them reprimanded! Give them lines and make them clean out the hospital wing bedpans with toothbrushes!"

I blinked several times. The voice sounded just like Dumbledore's but the Dumbledore I knew would never speak this way. Filch, however, clearly hadn't deduced that fact.

He bowed as low as his rheumatism would allow. I heard several clicks as his back popped back into place as he straightened up. "Right away, sir, right away!"

And without even looking at me, he loped down the stairs and out of sight.

I folded my arms and waited. Sure enough, footsteps clattered down the stairs towards me and a moment later, James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus materialized out of the air.

"What a gullible little rat." James chortled as he pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. "Right old nutter, that one."

"He's so old I'll bet when he farts, dust blows out." Sirius added, earning a huge giggle from Peter. "Just a simple mimicking charm and he's bought the whole deal."

Remus glanced at me once and then looked away. I peered at him.

"Hey." He said quietly.

"Hey yourself." I replied, unfolding and refolding my arms. "How was dinner with Angelina?"

Remus' eyes widened slightly but he didn't look at me. "She talked a lot. Have a good practice with that meathead Locke?"

His tone held a note of frostiness. And I hadn't known Remus to be the insulting type.

"Looks like he's a little jealous." James simpered, flipping a hand dramatically. "Quick, let's get down to Professor Carriage's office and set up some marriage counseling for you two before it's too late."

"Oh, my God." I moaned, slapping a hand to my face. "Did it ever occur to either of you that we're only thirteen?"

"Love doesn't know age." Sirius chanted in the voice of a whiny little girl. Peter was laughing so hard at both of them that tears leaked out of his eyes.

"Enough." I snapped. Then I softened slightly. "Listen, thanks for that… getting me out of that scrape with Filch."

"No worries." James said breezily. "Are you still mad about earlier?"

"Oh, you mean when you duelled me and then left me by myself in the woods?" I said scathingly. "No, I'm totally alright with it."

"Oh, well, good." James said, misunderstanding my sarcasm for truth. "So, I'm sure he's told you… little Padfoot here is an Animagus."

Sirius gave a little bow. Peter clapped. "Thank you, thank you." Sirius said graciously.

I rolled my eyes. "Shouldn't we move somewhere safer? I don't want to get discovered again by Filch."

"Good thinking, Rocky." James said. "Come on, let's go down to the kitchens. I think I smelled pumpkin pie earlier."

"Oh, goody." I said sarcastically as I followed them down the stairs. "We're already wandering the halls after curfew. Let's add stealing food while we're at it."

"Always so negative these days." Sirius observed.

"Really, Harkstone, it's not a great fit for you." James advised. "Why don't you try smiling every month or so? It might be good for your complexion. Though maybe this attitude does suit you. You've already got two dogs clamoring for you to give them a biscuit."

"Shut up James." Remus snapped.

James laughed and put up his hands. "Alright! So touchy. Look, here we are."

The five of us halted before a large portrait of a bowl of fruit. Sirius leaned forward and tickled a pear the size of a horse. The pear chuckled. A moment later, the portrait swung open and revealed a passage that led into the kitchen.

"We should at least knock first." I muttered as I followed the boys inside.

"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, Harkstone. Haven't I been saying that for three years?" James said as he jumped into the kitchen. Several fast-paced house elves milled around the kitchen. Some were in the midst of cooking. Others were busy washing dishes and pots.

I blinked, astonished. I tried counting the small, pink-skinned elves, all wearing their customary uniforms. Each wore their white toga-like smocks tied around their shoulders. All were busy.

"Hmmm…" James said seriously. "Would it be possible to get some service?"

He hadn't been rude or demanding. But in a second, at least five house elves scurried over, bearing plates of food or drinks. I gaped at the boys as they all helped themselves.

"Are you insane?" I said incredulously as Sirius helped himself to a slice of pumpkin pie.

"You're the nutter, not us." James said through a mouthful of treacle tart. "Come on, they're house elves. They live to serve. Look, they love it!"

I spared a look at the elves. Indeed, each looked enthralled to be feeding the boys. I hesitated, attracted to the sight of spicy brownies.

"They've got jasmine iced tea," Sirius added.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. If it means you two will shut up." I hesitantly took a square dusted with confectioner's sugar. A house elf offered me a glass of iced tea. I accepted both gratefully and watched them spirit the plates of food and drink away.

"Well, now I guess we can talk about how I became an Animagus first." Sirius said proudly, finishing his pie with gusto.

Remus slanted a look at him. "Do tell us." His tone reflected boredom and sarcasm.

Sirius seemed unruffled. Puffing out his chest, he cleared his voice. "My dear old father forgot to check on his library. I don't think he's done inventory since Regulus was old enough to walk, but no matter. It worked out in my favor. Amber,"

"-it's Harkstone." I snapped.

"...Harkstone and I snuck into his office one day last year, you remember?"

James snorted. Peter gazed at me with admiration. I looked away, embarrassed.

"Yeah, we broke wizarding law," I said darkly. "and?"

"Well." Sirius said, grinning wolfishly, "dear old dad never checked to see if his copy of The Beasts Within All of Us by Falco Aesalon was missing from his shelves."

Sirius withdrew a tattered, ancient-looking volume that looked to be made more of dust than paper and ink. I frowned apprehensively.

"This book taught you how to become an Animagus?"

Sirius nodded. "Why? You surprised?"

I shrugged. "More surprised that you can read."

James roared with laughter. A smile twitched on Remus' lips.

"Very funny." Sirius said dryly. "But really… this book has the stuff you need. It's complex, but it's not too much harder than learning the Unbreakable Vow. It's just about concentration, effort, and consistency. James and Peter are already working on theirs, but they don't have the same hereditary advantage that I do."

Remus took the book delicately from Sirius, as if it was a dirty diaper, and read it carefully. "...so, anyone can become an Animagus, but only a few will actually have the stones to do it. Is that right?"

"Perfectly right, Moony." Sirius said with a flourish. "Usually your Patronus can tell what kind of animal you'll become. Professor Smith said they're one in the same. Same type of energy you have for two different, related things."

"I think you're crazy." I said, taking the book from Remus' hands. I scanned a few lines. "It says that if you don't learn how to properly do it… you can be stuck halfway… forever?"

"The risk is part of the fun." James said easily. "Come on, Harkstone. You said you wanted to be part of our group."

I raised a brow. "When did I ever say that?"

"Two years ago in the Shrieking Shack." Sirius piped up. "You made a Vow, remember?"

I closed the old book deftly. "I'm going to bed and I'm going to read this book to see if it's legit or not."

"Don't lose it." Sirius said warningly. "That's a first edition. It's older than Hogwarts."

"Don't be ridiculous." I reprimanded, but I held the book a little more carefully.

"Well," Remus said abruptly. "I feel up for a walk around the grounds. Anyone else fancy a walk?"

James grinned between us. "Maybe it's better if you two go alone. Know what I mean?"

"Oh, no." Sirius said. "We can't leave them unattended. They might, you know… go too far…"

I almost whacked Sirius with the book, before remembering how old it was. I settled with my free hand. Sirius shied away, laughing.

"You're both disgusting." I said, storming away. "I'm going to read."

I could still hear them laughing after me. I climbed through the portrait hole, aware that Remus had been the only one not laughing. And that my father, for whatever his reasons, had decided to withhold from me the fact that he was one of the best Quidditch players Hufflepuff had ever had.

The next morning at breakfast, Soren landed before my plate of toast and eggs, a letter tied to his leg. He held it out for me, nibbling my finger affectionately as I took the sealed envelope from him.

I was alone at breakfast today. The boys were huddled together, and Remus had decided to stay with his own kind. Lily had also chosen to remain at Gryffindor table. I pretended not to care about either of their choices.

I slit open the envelope with my butter knife. A small sheet of parchment fell onto the table. It was a short note, written in small, neat letters.

Dear Miss Harkstone,

We will be postponing our meeting until November the 21st at 7 pm in my office. Please continue in your studies as usual. Please contact me after class if you have any questions or concerns!

Professor Flitwick

I glanced up at the staff table, but I couldn't see the tiny professor due to the amount of students blocking the view. Today was sunny and much warmer than yesterday; it felt more like summer had returned to make one last hurrah before fall completely took over.

I finished my breakfast quickly and exited the Hall. On my way out, I bumped into Angelina, who was talking with Zoey MacDonald. They stopped and looked at me curiously.

"Hi, Amber," Angelina said, while Zoey giggled. "I… um… actually wanted to talk to you about something."

I tried a smile. "Sure. What is it?"

Angelina slid a cautious glance towards the Gryffindor table. "Um… do you… are you going out with Remus Lupin? Because if you're not, I think he's really cute."

I stared at her, the smile wiped off my face like a paintbrush across a canvas. My insides turned to boiling lava. "I'm sorry?"

"Remus." Angelina repeated. "You know… your quiet friend. He really only talks to you. Anyway… if you're not dating him…"

Totally lost for words, I stared at Remus, who would not meet my eyes.

I felt something cool inside of me, like frost blown onto a wilting flower. "I don't think so. Why?"

Angelina giggled. "I just like him. He's cute. Thanks, Amber." She and Zoey sashayed away, looking at the Gryffindor table but choosing to sit at the Ravenclaw table instead.

I stalked out of the hall. For some reason, my heart was pounding way too heart and I felt like I'd just missed a step going downstairs. My hands shook. I balled them into fists at my sides. What was the matter with me?

I headed for the lake, the book tucked under one arm. I'd only had a chance to read one chapter before bed. It was difficult enough reading by candlelight, even more so when the pages were soft and crinkly with age. It was like flipping onion skins instead of paper.

I made my way down alone to the beech tree stationed solitarily by the water's edge. The surface was still, broken only by the occasional ripple of a breeze. The air was warm and heavy and smelled like late summer. I sat back against the trunk of the tree and opened the book to chapter two. I read quietly for a half hour, shifting a few times when the hard back of the tree made sitting uncomfortable. It was when I was reading the line ...part of the process of becoming an Animagi is holding the leaf of a mandrake in the mouth for an entire month… when I heard excited voices. I looked up, expecting to see my familiar Gryffindor boys, and surprised when I didn't.

Instead, it was a group of four students. Two I recognized. Angelina Azadian and Zoey MacDonald. The other two were boys, and it took me a moment longer to register who they were. One was Davey Gurgeson, a fourth-year Gryffindor, and the other was Frank Longbottom, a fellow third year Gryffindor. Frank seemed distressed, while Angelina and Zoey were excited. They were egging Davey on about something.

I watched them meander their way across the ridge. I didn't realize their destination until it was too late. The Whomping Willow… the murder tree… it was standing alone, haughty and aggressive, swaying in the warm breeze, apparently oblivious to the fact that four students were currently making a beeline for it.

I realized what they were going to do before it happened. For the past two years since the tree was planted, it had been a schoolwide dare to try to get as close as you could to touching the trunk without getting hit. It had been banned explicitly and was met with several lost points and detentions for those stupid enough to try it. And those that had managed to get past it, like me…

I shut my thoughts off towards where they were headed. I shut the old book and leapt to my feet. "Wait!" I cried, pelting up the hill towards their distant figures. "Stop! Don't go near that tree!"

But either I was too far or they didn't want to listen. Frank was making imploring motions with his hands. Clearly, he didn't want Davey going near that tree. But Angelina and Zoey were watching and laughing. I pounded up the hill, drawing my wand. "Davey!" I yelled, still about three hundred feet away. "Don't! Stop! Stop!"

Davey wasn't listening. He was creeping closer to the willow, who had finally noticed someone approaching and snapped its long tendrils threateningly. It creaked and moaned, swaying heavily to and fro.

"DAVEY!" I shouted. "STOP!"

Now the girls were looking over at me. Angelina looked supremely unconcerned. Zoey was actually encouraging him.

I looked to Frank desperately. "Frank! Stop him!"

Frank drew his wand, but it was too late. Davey raced towards the tree trunk. The tree swung forward at him.

"NO!" I screamed.

There was a horrible slapping noise. The girls were screaming in horror and fear. Frank ran towards the tree. I dropped the book on the ground and rushed forward. The Willow pulled back and brandished its many tendrils in warning. I whipped out my wand, praying it would work.

"Impedimenta!" I shouted, but the tree continued to lean forward, its trunk rushing towards me. It was going to crush me. It was going to kill me just like it had killed Virginia…

A moment before it hit, a woman's voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. "Arresto Momentum!"

The tree froze in place. Just barely ten feet above my head, it leaned over me menacingly, casting shadow over me and the crumpled body of Davey Gudgeon.

"Oh, my God!" Angelina screamed. "He's dead!"

Professor Smith hurried over and bent over the boy. His face was covered in blood. She pursed her lips. "You two! Go and tell Madam Pomfrey what has happened. You!" She pointed to Frank. "Go tell Dumbledore. Amber, help me."

Shaking, I hastened to her side. Davey's face was covered in blood, and there was a cruel slash across the side of his face. I clapped my hand over my mouth.

"Yes," Professor Smith said grimly, "it's not pretty. Come, help me. Hold him while I stop the bleeding."

I held Davey's head still while Professor Smith lowered her wand over the boy's face, which was oozing fresh blood. I fought the urge to vomit.

"Vulnera sanentur…" Professor Smith murmured over and over in a low, melodic voice. Davey's face was still ravaged, but the bleeding stopped.

"He'll need to be fixed up by Poppy." Professor Smith said in a businesslike way. "I'll take him to the hospital wing." She gave the willow tree a dark look. "I understand why we need protection… but I thought Professor Sprout and Hagrid would have chosen a better method than this thing."

I stared at her. "Do you know?"

Professor Smith gave me a cursory look before waving her wand again and making an unconscious Davey float in midair after her. "Of course I do. This is the Whomping Willow, less commonly known as the Murder Tree."

All the air in my body left in a whoosh. Professor Smith was already moving away briskly towards the castle. Davey floated after her, his limbs hanging down at his sides in a grotesque fashion. I hurried after her and picked up the book I'd discarded.

"Professor," I said breathlessly, "you know it's called the Murder Tree?"

"It's old Britain folklore." She answered. "But I'd rather you hold your questions later, Amber. I'm a bit preoccupied trying to save this boy's eye."

I snuck a glance at Davey's ravaged face and immediately wished I hadn't. "Right. Okay. What should I do?"

Professor Smith quickened her pace. "Make sure no one else is this foolish."

By dinner, news had spread throughout the entire school about Davey Gudgeon's foolish and doomed attempt to best the willow tree. Remus looked ashen.

"What?" I said, settling myself at the Gryffindor table. "You look awful, Remus."

"Yeah." Peter agreed. "And Amber was the one who had to help him, right?"

"Good point Peter, I'm proud." James said, half-teasing the round-faced boy. Peter flushed.

Remus shook his head and then hid his face in his hands. "This is my fault."

Sirius snorted. "Why? You didn't almost slash out his eye."

"I might as well have." Remus said despairingly. "That tree was put there because of me. It wasn't even here before…"

James patted Remus forcefully on the back. "Ease up, old boy. It's not like he died or anything. Wasn't Madam Pomfrey able to save his eye?"

"She was." I confirmed. "But this was serious. I mean, how many times have people dared each other to try and touch the trunk? It's just… stupid, really."

Remus gave me a look. He didn't have to say anything, because I knew he was thinking of our first year, when I myself had tried to goad the tree into attacking me.

"Look," I said, taking a deep breath, "this has got to stop. I mean, he could have died. This could have been much worse if Frank and I hadn't been there."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Harkstone. Have a little sense of fun. Risk is what makes life worth living!"

I gave him a repulsed look. "I can't believe you sometimes. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though."

"Why?" Sirius said, dropping his voice. "Because I was raised in a house that practically worships the Dark Arts?"

James nodded. "That might be it, mate."

Both boys grinned at each other.

I finished my cup of soup, shaking my head. "You two are incorrigible."

Just then, Professor Smith swept by our table. She made haste to the front of the room, where the rest of the staff sat talking in low, hushed voices. She made straight for Professor Dumbledore, whispering something in his ear. He nodded every few seconds in agreement. When she moved to her seat, he rose from his high-backed chair and to his golden, owl-crested podium. The Great Hall fell silent.

"Good evening, students." Dumbledore said, smiling down at us. "I'm sure by this hour all of you have heard of the incident today concerning our Whomping Willow and a young Gryffindor student."

Murmurs met his proclamation. Remus buried his face in his hands again, distraught.

"It has come to the attention of the staff and I that many of you do not appreciate the level of danger present in that tree." Dumbledore said, eyeing several girls at different House tables meaningfully. Angelina was paying attention to him, looking abashed.

"Yes, it is true that a student nearly lost his eye today. But it could have been much worse. Therefore, I implore you to use your good judgment and refrain from making rash decisions. At your age, it may seem cool to taunt serious injury or even death. But I can assure you, the game is only fun until someone gets hurt."

Silence met his words. I dared sneak a look at Professor Smith, who was staring right at James and Sirius with a look of intense disapproval. They were huddled together, whispering and laughing. I whacked them on the backs of their heads with Sirius's old book. They both yelped and covered the backs of their heads with their hands, glaring at me reproachfully.

"Be careful with that!" Sirius hissed, as several people at the Gryffindor table giggled.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "As such, we have decided to forbid any student from coming within a quarter mile of the Whomping Willow. Any disobedience will be met with discipline at the decision of the students' Heads of House. I implore you to be cautious and respect our school's boundaries. I would also like to remind students again that the Forbidden Forest is still quite forbidden, and unless you are accompanied by our gamekeeper, Professor Kettleburn, that too will be met with consequences. Good night!"

The majority of the students sprang to their feet and cleared out of the Hall as Dumbledore bid us good night. Sean was waving me over from the Hufflepuff table, holding his Cleansweep Six.

James and Sirius were talking loudly again. "I wonder if the Willow attacks just humans," James wondered aloud. "Hey, Padfoot, maybe you could try-"

"Enjoy losing an eye, or a tail." I said waspishly as I rose from the table. Remus lifted his head and stared at me.

"Where are you going?" He asked, frowning, still pale.

Sean waved me over again, lifting his broom in indication. I offered him a smile, looking back at Remus.

"You'll see in a few weeks." I hinted, retrieving The Beasts Within Us and hurrying to catch up with Sean for another round of Quidditch practice.

I wasn't aware of Professor Smith watching me leave, or of Remus's face. I didn't even notice his eyes flash golden-yellow as I jockeyed over to Sean and left the Hall with him side by side.