Looking Beyond: Chapter Forty-Five: Inheritance From the Father


It looked worse than it was, that much George was certain of. Bandages encircled her head like a flat sort of tiara, and a number of pillows had been propped up behind her so that her head was a bit more elevated than it was when she normally slept.

For a painstaking moment, George had thought that she was dead, but Madam Pomfrey assured him that the pallor of her skin was just an after-effect of the Dementors, which was a relief to say the least. It had been lucky that Diggory had caught her when he did, Madam Pomfrey had told him, or Hope's injuries might be a good deal worse.

Hope stirred faintly, turning her head towards him slightly, but she did not awaken, even when he reached over to cup her clammy cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb over her flesh. He was a little worried that she wouldn't wake up, but it seemed he didn't have to wait long, even if it had only been about fifteen minutes since the game had concluded and ten since Diggory had left with his team with a fervent thank you from the Gryffindors gathered around Hope's bed.

"Lucky the ground was so soft," Angelina said in a hushed voice, leaning slightly into his twin.

"Lucky Diggory caught her," Fred corrected, "who knows how bad it could have been if he hadn't?"

George knew that Fred wasn't wrong there, but that didn't stop him from wishing that he had been the one that caught her.

"I thought she was dead for sure," Katie squeaked, completely white under the mud, probably not the best thing to say under the circumstances.

"At least she didn't break anything," Alicia said, trying to force her voice to remain calm, "her head's only bruised, so that's good."

Hope shifted again, and this time, her eyes opened fully, much to their relief. "Did anyone get the number of that bus that ran me over?" she said amidst a groan of pain. "What did I do to my head?"

"You just banged it up a little, don't you worry, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled over to her most frequent patient's side to tap her wand against the girl's head before removing the bruise paste and bandage that had been tied securely about her head. "It seems that your head is harder than it looks."

"Isn't it always?" Hope said with a wince as she was forced to down a particularly acrid tasting potion. "Gods, what is that? It's revolting!"

"Almost everything I've ever given you is revolting," the older woman said dryly, "you can leave in five minutes."

She strode away to deal with a few students who had gotten cold from the weather outside, allowing Hope the opportunity to get all the details from her friends (because Hermione had a tight grip on one arm and George had the other one in his hand without any sign of actually releasing her any time soon) and teammates.

"So, what happened?"

"Er…do you remember anything?" Angelina asked nervously.

"Yes," Hope said dryly, "a couple Dementors thinking of me as their next meal is something you don't typically forget."

All those gathered around her winced at the bite in her sarcasm; it was never a good sign.

"Well, er," Fred said uncomfortably, sharing a glance with his twin, "you sort of fell of your broom, about fifty feet; Cedric said the Dementors sort of swarmed in on you, he barely managed to catch you in time."

Hope's eyebrows furrowed together, but she must be dead to the world at that point.

"We thought you died," Alicia said, her voice laced with fear, making Hermione quiver and make a small noise as tears welled in her eyes once more.

Hope's mouth set in a firm line. How strange and how different it was now that she had people who actually cared if she lived or died…it was times like these that she wished that the school year never ended so that she wouldn't have to go back to the dreaded Dursleys.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to assuage their fears, "you heard Madam Pomfrey, I'll be out of here in no time…did we lose the match?" That was the thing she dreaded the most. She had never lost a match yet, but—

"Yeah," George admitted by her side, drawing her eyes to meet his. She couldn't help but notice just how pale he was that she could now see each and every freckle that was on his face; and she couldn't help but be flattered by his concern for her. "Madam Hooch decided to void the points of the Snitch since neither of you caught it before the Dementors got onto the field, so the points were whatever was left. We only lost by ten points, so that'll make it much easier."

"Yeah, Hope, it's not all bad," Fred agreed, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, "if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least twenty points," George interjected.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw," Fred theorized.

"No way, Ravenclaw's too good…"

Hermione squeezed her hand and she looked up into her eyes. She and Ron had been strangely quiet throughout the whole exchange, and Ron seemed to be hiding something behind his back.

"Ron?" Hope's eyes fastened on what looked like an oddly clumped blanket. "What's that?"

Ron shared a distinctly uncomfortable look with his brothers, but they weren't going to help him with this one, he was on his own. "Er," he began, clearing his throat slightly, "well, it's about your Nimbus…"

"What about my Nimbus?" she demanded.

"Well," Hermione decided to help him with that seeing as the twins weren't going to, "when you fell off, it got blown away in the storm…and it, it hit the Whomping Willow."

Hope didn't know which was worse, that it had been utterly destroyed by the Whomping Willow, or that they had lost the match.


Hope's whole weekend was shot after that whole incident with her broom, she almost wanted to cry. She loved that broom! And now it was in bits and pieces, all because of that stupid willow tree that she wanted to have a go at with her fists, until Hermione pointed out that she would probably do more damage than good.

Sometimes Hope really hated Hermione-logic, but Hermione-logic had saved her life a couple of times, so she would bow before its omnipotence.

That being said, she was rather reluctant to go to Defence Against the Dark Arts on Monday, especially if Snape was going to be there. Apparently, the sentiment was shared with Ron –who had had to clean bedpans the last time they had met face to face (though it had been to defend Hermione, which was very sweet).

"If Snape's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," Ron decided furiously.

"I'll join you," Hope agreed.

Hermione couldn't help but purse her lips at the rebellious nature of her two friends, but she could do nothing to curb their attitudes, try as she might. She peered through the door, and was pleasantly surprised to see raggedy Professor Lupin placing graded papers in the vacant spots where students would sit soon enough.

"It's alright," she called to her friends, "Professor Lupin's back!"

Ron and Hope tried to get through the doorway at the same time and just ended up collapsing onto the floor, looking up at the older man who quirked an eyebrow at them, his mouth curling upwards into a smile.

"I take it I was missed?" he asked, his voice flooded with humour, barely having time to react as Hope shot up and flung her arms around his waist.

"Professor Lupin, never leave ever again!" she said looking up at him with big green eyes, ignoring the scandalous noise that Hermione made. "Snape was awful!"

Professor Lupin laughed at his friend's daughter's antics as he gently removed her arms from around him. "Was he really?"

"Yes," Ron and surprisingly Hermione had to agree.

"He was a tosspot to Hermione," Hope felt the need to add as they placed all of their things on their desks. "Hey, you gave me an E!"

She flipped through her paper. "Oh…wrong location, my bad."

Professor Lupin spared her a smile. "We all make mistakes, just be more careful next time, the number of points I dock will be more."

"Right-o," Hope agreed, "mistakes, check, but back to Snape. Utter tosspot! You know he called Hermione an insufferable know-it-all?"

"I apologize on his behalf, Hermione," Professor Lupin said sincerely. "That was very rude of him."

Hermione gave him a slight smile. "Thank you, Professor."

"He's not coming back as a substitute is he?" Ron asked, his voice on the brink of horror.

Professor Lupin couldn't help but laugh lightly at that. The class began soon after that, and the three had to take their seats. This lesson was far more enjoyable than the last one Hope had had in that room, she had to admit, though she was a little confused as to why Professor Lupin kept her behind after the class had ended.

"I heard about the match," he said, sparing her a glance and noticing the frown that marred her lips, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick."

"Me too," Hope muttered, raking a hand through her hair, unintentionally giving it a more windswept look. "I really really liked that broom." Every time she thought about the bits that her once faithful broom had been reduced to, she got irrationally angry. "What's the point of that tree anyways?"

Professor Lupin gave her a tight smile. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts," he said, "in actuality, the Willow was planted because I came to Hogwarts."

She met his eyes, hers becoming both startled and surprised. "What do you mean?"

"The Whomping Willow was planted over a passageway into a secret…shall we say, area? where I was to transform once every month," Professor Lupin said it with as little emotion as he possibly could; he had hated his time in the Shrieking Shack.

"Oh," Hope said uncomfortably, ducking her head in embarrassment and in shame, "sorry, I didn't—"

"It's alright," Professor Lupin assured her.

Hope cleared her throat, searching for a subject to move away from the professor's lycanthropy, and then she remembered what they had been talking about in the first place. "So, I guess you heard the Dementors using me for their next meal?"

Professor Lupin winced at the imagery and the bluntness of her words. "Yes, I did," he admitted, "I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They've been growing restless for some time…" He glanced to her, but her eyes were not on him, nor were they green. They were a hard black onyx, filled with self-loathing; Professor Lupin recognized the look.

"They do not attack you because you are weak."

Hope's lips drew downwards into a frown, the only acknowledgment until she spoke that she had heard what he had said. "I suppose that it must be my charming disposition, then?" she said, her words tinged with bitterness.

"Not even close," Professor Lupin disagreed fervently. "The Dementors affect you worst of all because there are horrors in your past that the others could scarcely imagine."

"You're saying they're…attracted…to bad memories?" Hope said, her eyebrows furrowing into a contemplative expression.

"Very much so," he agreed. "Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life." Hope's fingers curled up and into a fist. "And the worst that happened to you, Hope, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

Hope swallowed thickly, turning her face away from him again, only this time he caught what he swore were tears sparkling in her eyes. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, hard enough to break the skin, but she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to even register the small flash of pain.

"Its," her words were strangled from her lips before she forced herself to start again, the words throaty, but Professor Lupin waited patiently, "it's just that…I think it's my mother that I hear when the Dementors get too close."

She missed the pained look on Professor Lupin's face, but he couldn't restrain himself from placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hope—"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, rubbing at her eyes, "I just really hate Dementors, what's the point of having them as guards if they go after students instead?" There was no need to point out that she was the only student thus far that had been attacked, that would only add insult to injury.

"Imagine they couldn't resist," Professor Lupin said in voice harder than she would have imagined his congenial tone could ever hold, "there were so many people about at the match, it was probably their version of a feast." Her face went white at how he phrased it. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, that was tactless."

Hope shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It makes you wonder if someone really deserves to go to Azkaban," she said, continuing their earlier conversation, skating over his apologies, "if they're there."

Professor Lupin tipped his head to her, but she was young and innocent and she did not know of the atrocities that those in the prison had committed.

"That thing you did on the train," she said, bringing him back to the present, "could you teach it to me?"

He blinked, his eyes holding the barest of surprise. "I don't—"

"Please!" Her eyes implored him. "I promise I'll work really hard!"

"It is very advanced," Professor Lupin said, "it might not be—"

"Please," she said again, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. Besides, it was hardly a good idea to let someone who was clearly a Dementor-magnet wander around without any protection.

Mr. Dementor-Repellent indeed.


It wasn't every day that Hope Potter plopped herself down at the Hufflepuff table like she belonged there, and almost never when she was grinning that brightly.

"Hello," she said in a voice that matched her rather sunny disposition, which was a bit surprising; she was usually only this cheerful when she was with either Ron and Hermione or George.

"Hello," he said, arching an eyebrow at her demeanour.

"I've gotten you a thank you gift for saving my life," Hope continued in a manner similar to one who was commenting on the weather, but Cedric supposed nearly dying was practically a norm for her now.

"Oh, you didn't need to do that," Cedric said quickly and courteously.

"Gryffindors always pay their debts," Hope said in a serious manner, "well, this Gryffindor does anyways, I get the feeling you'll like it."

Cedric heaved a sigh. "Alright, what is it?" he said in a despairing voice.

"You ever been to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade?" Hope asked in a falsely light voice.

"No," Cedric said blankly, he'd never heard of such a place, or maybe he wasn't looking hard enough. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Hope said with a grin, "it just so happens that Cho is a fan of the food there."

Cedric could feel his cheeks enflaming at the mention of the Asian Ravenclaw that had long since caught his eye, but he had never had enough nerve to ask her out. Leave daring nerve to the Gryffindors.

"I've paid for a lunch in full for the pair of you, under the name Diggory," Hope said, the grin widening at the sight of the red splotches appearing on his cheekbones. "And I've told Cho that you are going to ask her something in a few minutes." The look of unbridled horror on his face was quite comical, Hope had to admit as she actually burst out laughing, before taking the time to walk around the table, pull him upright and push him towards where Cho was waiting, trying hard to not glance over at the Hufflepuff expectantly. "Go and turn on that Diggory charm, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" And then she gave him one last push before running away faster than Cedric had any time to respond. But he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't anything that Hope wouldn't do.

Meanwhile, Hope hummed to herself as she skipped down the hallway, pleased at the turnout of her devious little plot. Poor Cedric Diggory just needed a harsh nudge in Cho's direction.

Speaking of relationships, Hope couldn't restrain the yelp in surprise when a pair of strong arms encircled her waist and twisted her around. She had to wrap her arms quickly around George's neck to keep herself from falling.

"George," she couldn't help but gasp his name in surprise, "don't do that! You scared me!"

A pleased grin graced his lips. "Oh, can you still be scared?"

Hope rolled her eyes, though her lips still twitched. "Oh, yes, love, I'm certain there are a number of things I still fear." She grimaced slightly. "I'm pretty sure your mother is near the top of the list."

George couldn't restrain the laughter that bubbled from his lips as well. "Any sane person would have her on their list," he agreed as she stood on her tip-toes in an effort to make herself closer to his height, but that was a hopeless goal, in both of their opinions (he was always going to tower of her). "What were you doing with Diggory?"

She smirked at how overprotective he sounded. "Worried, Weasley?"

"Not quite," he said with a grin of his own, "I know what your type is."

"Oh, really?" Hope said, enjoying their flirty banter as she always did. "And what exactly is my type?"

"Oh, you know," George said vaguely, "there are five ways to tell."

"Only five?" Hope said in amusement.

"One, he's got my eyes, two he's got my prankster attitude, three he's wearing my shirt, four he's holding my girlfriend, and five his name is George Weasley," George said with a wink as he lowered his head to catch her lips with his own, smothering her laughter.

"You're doing that on purpose!" she accused him, her cheeks appropriately flushed from the heat of the kiss.

"I have no idea that you're talking about," he disagreed, but his smirk told a different story. "Anyways, I came to rescue you, and then kidnap you again."

Hope rolled her eyes good-naturedly, gathering that it was highly unlikely that he would ever understand the concept of 'kidnapping'. "And why are you kidnapping me?"

"Oh, no reason," George said, but then he dragged her quickly around the corner, glancing around quickly as if searching for some hidden enemy.

"George? Is something wrong?" Hope couldn't help but ask, her curiosity piqued.

"No nothing's wrong," he said quickly.

"We just wanted to be sure you weren't followed," an identical voice finished for him, and Hope couldn't help but jump at the sight of Fred.

And then her eyes narrowed slightly. "Alright," she drawled, "what're you two up to?"

The identical affronted looks were adorable, but that wouldn't help them.

Fred took the initiative and placed a bit of folded parchment in her hand with a smile. "Think of it as an early Christmas-slash-Glad-You're-Well gift."

She stared at the parchment and then at the grinning pair before arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly is this bit of parchment supposed to be?"

"Bit of parchment!" Fred squawked.

George on the other hand gave her a beaming smile. "That, there, is the secret to our success."

"The secret to your success?" Hope said, her lips quirking. "And here I thought your success was all your own."

"Shh!" George said, his eyes shining. "Don't tell anyone else that!"

"So, what exactly is it?" Hope asked again.

Fred grinned. "Watch and learn, Princess. I solemnly swear that we are up to no good." He said the words and tapped his wand against the parchment and to Hope's astonishment, ink began to spill and spread over the parchment, criss-crossing and curling until a crest was formed over an image of the castle on the front, proclaiming:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers

Are Proud to Present

The Marauder's Map

Hope parted the folds with interest and her jaw dropped. It was an extensive map of Hogwarts, a very extensive map of Hogwarts, including the castle itself, the grounds, and what looked like a number of secret passageways. There were hundreds of tiny dots moving around over the parchment, each being connected to a name. She could see Hermione's in the library, Ron's in the common room, and—

"Is that really—?" she started to ask.

"Dumbledore," Fred agreed.

"In his study," George added.

"Pacing," Fred finished.

"He does that a lot," George said, having to get the last word in.

"Seriously?" Hope said in awe. "So, this map shows everything in the castle?"

"Everything."

"Everyone," George corrected.

"Where they are," Fred added.

"What they're doing."

"Every minute—"

"Of every day!"

"Oh, this is brilliant," Hope muttered more to herself than to them. "I doubt you two made it yourselves."

"Oi!" they said highly offended. "I'll have you know we nicked that beauty from Filch's office first year! When have you ever nicked something from his office in your first year?"

Hope had to admit that she had never had the drive to do so; the only person she really got into trouble with was Snape.

"Mmhm," she said, only half listening to them, still completely fascinated by the parchment in her hands.

Fred rolled his eyes at his twin, as if to say 'she's your girlfriend'. "Anyways," he said, grabbing her attention briefly, "don't forget to wipe it after you've used, otherwise anyone can read it."

"Just give it a tap and say 'Mischief Managed' and it'll go blank," George explained, tapping his wand against the parchment to show how the ink faded until it looked like a bit of ratty old paper once more.

"You guys are officially my favourite blokes," Hope said seriously, "but Fred, the next time you call me Princess, get ready for a nice slap."

Fred chuckled nervously as George sniggered beside him, the traitor.