"Excited for Beltane?" Rose grinned. It was the last day of April, and she'd decided to eat at the Gryffindor table. Her schedule had all but fallen apart, but that was fine – what with her own bucking of the trend, as well as the Hogwarts Common Room fostering inter-House friendships, the House tables were now more suggestion than rule.

(sometimes, it overwhelmed her, the sheer scale of the impact she was having)

"Definitely," Neville said, grinning. "Gran's finally letting me join in."

"Will you be joining us as well?" Rose asked, glancing at the others.

Hermione beamed. Susan and Justin nodded vigorously, Hannah less so. Padma, who'd returned to school after the Chamber incident, gave a small smile. Ron looked hesitant.

"That's the… fire thing, isn't it?" he asked, blue eyes tentative.

Hermione slid into her lecture tone. "It celebrates the coming of summer and fertility of mind, body, and sprit."

"It's the fire thing," Susan sighed in response to Ron's glazed look. "There's going to be an enormous bonfire on the grounds tonight – you jump over it to bring good luck."

"And wear flower crowns," Neville added, grinning.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Ron said cautiously.

"You should join," Harry said encouragingly. He'd gotten over Ron's insult last Samhain and was now determined to absorb the boy into their study group. She suspected he was also just plain curious about the person who'd been her best friend in another life.

"Er… maybe next year," he mumbled, looking away. Harry slumped a little in disappointment. Rose gave him a commiserating smile, which he returned.

"It's a good night for planting," Neville said, awkwardly trying to change the subject. "I'll be spending most of the night in the greenhouses with the rest of the Herbology club," he said, grinning ruefully.

Dean looked awkward. "Er, no offense mate, but I'd rather…"

Neville grinned good-naturedly. "It's not a problem. I'll be joining you all afterwards anyways – Gran says I need the luck," he finished ruefully.

"Don't think like that," Justin chided good-naturedly. "You can make your own luck, mate."

There was an awkward silence as all the wixen-raised remembered the illegal ritual for Beltane flower crowns. Justin's face fell.

"Oh, Merlin, what'd I say?"

(the flower crowns used on Beltane were now conjured, the ritual to impart a greater amount of luck having been outlawed by the Ministry. Once, students would've had the day off on Beltane to make their own crowns, weaving it together with flowers from the forest and from home. They would've surrounded the crown in stones plucked from the lake, murmured words in Celtic, and dripped fresh blood onto the delicate petals as they burst into flames. The crowns would've hummed with primal, elemental magic. Then they would've worn those crowns to the bonfire that night, dancing and laughing as the magic of the night and crown seeped into their cores)

(but blood magic was Dark and therefore Evil, and so the good luck imparted on Beltane was weaker)


Beltane was one of the more popular festivals, if only because it was so much fun. As night fell, she and Hermione made their way barefoot from the castle, wearing undyed linen and cotton robes. The bonfire had already begun – they could see it burning at the edge of the lake, an enormous thing twice her height. Everyone else was already there – she and Hermione had stayed behind to finish up an Herbology essay.

"We have to jump over that?" Hermione asked, appalled.

"It's easier than it looks," Rose grinned. "You'll see." She felt giddy, as she always did during a ritual. She could feel the magic of the earth with each step she took. The closer they drew to the fire, the wilder the magic in the air became. There was something primal about this night, this festival, that made her want to dance. She inhaled; this was her first Beltane festival, and she'd never felt anything like this.

Hermione let out a delighted, giddy laugh. "Let's run!"

They held hands and sprinted towards the bonfire. As they neared, they saw the sparks shooting from the fire flutter briefly before dissipating. Rose felt a pull – she wanted to walk through the fire, she wanted to fly, she wanted to lay down on the grass and relish in the magic of the world.

Tonight, she was twelve, outside on a night with magic humming in the air and rippling in her blood. As people started dancing and singing, butterflies formed from the flames, fluttering around the revelers, trailing sparks in their wake. Someone put a flower crown on her head. They joined the crowd, dancing, words coming to her lips she'd long-since memorized.

"Leig le lasraichean criosan losgadh,

Gun till na seann fheadhainn a-nis,

Is dòcha gun ionnsaich sinn den draoidheachd aca,

Leig leis an neach-cadail dùsgadh!"

Rose leaped over the bonfire and felt her magic lifting her up above the flames, a gentle tingle in the very fiber of her being lightening her body. She flew ten feet into the air and glided, landing gently on the other side. On this night, the Beltane fire wouldn't touch her.

One of the fire butterflies landed on her flower crown and set the whole thing alight. Rose twirled. Someone lit the end of an ash branch from the fire atop her head and they danced. In the darkness, they could've been anyone.


Defence club meetings began after the Easter holidays. Beltane had given all its participants a boost of happiness and good fortune, and they were still riding the residual high. Their steps were lighter, their smiles easier, their laughs louder.

As it was, the bruise balm Rose had brewed what felt like years ago finally got some use as they learned the Stunning Spell. Harry would occasionally add tidbits about defending against magical creatures, but it was difficult with him not being a proper teacher. They'd written to Remus about it, hoping the werewolf tutor could give them ideas. After all, if their plan worked, Lockhart would be gone by the end of the year.


By the middle of May, the mandrakes had matured. While the Great Hall rejoiced over the rejuvenated students, the students themselves balked at the prospect of catching up, and Padma and Parvati hugged each other in a burst of tears, Blaise had questions. Or, rather, one question.

"… Whatever happened to that ghost who petrified?" he muttered to her. He was sitting at the Hufflepuff table today.

"Oh!" Rose had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. "I had to get him to the hospital wing with a ventus. Apparently we just need to wait for the magic to dissipate. He ought to just fine in September."

"Really," Blaise mused. "That's… huh. A ventus? Really?"

"Really," Rose confirmed, giggling. "It was absurd."

It really had been. There was nothing quite like the experience of sending a ghost to the hospital wing by blowing out gusts of wind from the end of one's wand, carefully controlled to prevent the ghost from drifting too far in any one direction. It'd been headache-inducing and complicated, and one of the oddest things she'd done to date.

(speaking of ghosts… that reminded her - )

(but perhaps that was best saved for next year, when she had more time)


Rose had taken to glancing up at the High Table every meal, something her friends had noticed.

"Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a crush on Lockhart," Susan begged. Justin and Ernie, looking appropriately horrified, nodded fervently.

Rose pulled a face. "Don't be silly, of course not. I'm just waiting for something, is all."

"What?" Justin asked eagerly.

Rose said nothing but gave him a sly smile. "You'll see."

"Merlin, you're worse than Zabini," he sighed.

She and Harry had gotten the confirmation call from Sirius the other day – the lawyers had finally submitted their evidence to the DMLE.


LOCKHART: A FAKE? The headlines blared one morning. Rose glanced at it, then up at the High Table where Lockhart had gone grey, and smirked.


The fallout was, if anything, worse than the Slytherin article fiasco. Her friends had pounced on her immediately, demanding to know how she'd known, and she'd fended them off until Harry had made his way to her side and they'd explained.

They'd suspected Lockhart as a fake since their first class, they said. They'd written to Sirius, who'd hired a team of lawyers and private investigators with the nigh-infinite Black fortune and sic'd them on Lockhart, digging into his history and gathering evidence. Sirius hadn't been able to tell them anything, but he'd confirmed that they ought to look in the papers for an announcement any day now.

(it wasn't much of a lie; the timeline had only been shifted back a few weeks, after all)

Some of their peers, like Sally-Anne Perks, who'd never liked Rose, had been skeptical, but that had quickly dissipated when Susan had gotten a confirmation letter from her aunt, and Lockhart had vanished by lunchtime. The DMLE were hot on his trail though, Amelia had assured Susan, so they oughtn't worry. The man was being arrested on charges of fraud, illegal Memory Charms, and child endangerment. There was an announcement in the Prophet that recommended all Hogwarts students get checked for memory charm residue, which could be caught and reversed within a year of the charm.

The vast majority of the school, who's feelings towards Lockhart had gone past murderous weeks ago, hailed them yet again as heroes. The entirety of Slytherin and Ravenclaw cheered for them (save Marietta Edgecomb and Patricia Stimpson, who'd been avoiding Rose since their attack and subsequent humiliation).

The only major incident was Hermione's outrage at the loss of their DADA professor right before exams.

"We have the defence club, Hermione," Rose had comforted. "Besides, you can't have really wanted to study Lockhart's books anyways."

"But our exams, Rose!" Hermione had wailed.

That evening, Dumbledore had announced a pass-fail system for all students taking Defence, save those taking their OWL or NEWT in the subject. Those students would be receiving packages and funding for tutors so they could take their exams over the summer.

It wasn't as viscerally satisfying as Lockhart being 'impaled upon his own sword,' as Dumbledore had once put it, but Rose thought this was better. His name was being dragged through the mud now, mind Healers working overtime on his victims in an effort to try and reverse the damage. Rose didn't have much hope, but at least there was hope. Lockhart's assets had been confiscated and was in the process of being distributed to those whom he'd cheated. For Lockhart, who put so much value on his reputation, this was undoubtedly far more painful.

(there was also, as Lucius Malfoy informed her, the fact that Dumbledore now had to justify his hiring of Lockhart. It wasn't much, but it might be enough to weaken his reputation to implement Wixen Culture classes)


Rose was immensely grateful for her friend's dueling practices and for the Defence club, which had now tripled in size. They'd split off into two groups, one for more advanced students and another for everyone else, with Cedric and Professor Flitwick heading the former and Harry, Susan, and Neville the latter. Since one's placement in the group was decided by Professor Flitwick, there wasn't much grounds on which to complain. As it was, there were several very unhappy seventh years in Harry's group, which had quickly faded once Harry had faced them down in a duel. There had also been several side eyes when Rose had joined the advanced group, but that had quickly stopped once she'd shot to the top of the group, casting fourth- and fifth-year spells as easily as everyone else.

They'd only ever reenacted his books in Lockhart's class, with him casting wary glances at her every half-hour or so, so those few poor souls who hadn't self-studied or joined the Defence club (mainly the blood purists and those who thought that she and Harry were Dark) had a great deal of trouble on the exam. Rose, who was well on her way to casting expelliarmus silently, nevertheless grinned at Snape as she demonstrated the spell.

"Thanks for the demonstration, Professor!" she chirped. "It was terribly useful."

She was lying through her teeth, but liked to think she saw a glint of amusement in Snape's eyes anyways.

Her other exams were a mite harder than they'd been in first year, but she still topped her year by a wide margin in every subject save Herbology, where Neville had once again decisively beaten everyone else. Rose delighted in his pleased flush as she congratulated him.

Thanks in part (Rose liked to think) to the challenge she'd issued at the Leaving Feast last year, Hufflepuff won the House Cup. She and Harry had both refused points for the Chamber incident, arguing that they'd survived through luck, not skill, and therefore deserved perhaps ten points at the most. Dumbledore still made a show of awarding those ten points in front of the entire school, but Rose was still proud that her House had managed to win the Cup without a hint of favoritism. They hadn't won in over twelve years, after all, and it was like an explosion had gone off at the table when Dumbledore congratulated them.

Even better, there were more calls of friendly competition from the other three Houses. She saw Ginny shaking her fist playfully at them, Lisa and Padma clapping, Theo grinning.

It was the best end to the year she'd ever had.