O

DESPOINA

Mysteries

September

One more year. If nothing else, that fact alone should get her through the coming months. It had to. Not being quidditch captain didn't diminish her chasing abilities. She still had time to catch up on her studying and salvage her NEWTs. Dom and Roxanne staying in Australia didn't stop them from being her best friends, and she wrote them a long letter prior to going back to school, apologising for being useless but promising to write more regularly, and assuring them she was all good. And after this year she would be leaving Hogwarts and they would be back in the country anyway.

One more year.

Hope tried to hold onto this resolve as, with a full afternoon without lessons on the first day back, she made her way out into the grounds to meet Cadmus.

A year currently felt like a very long time.

"Hope!"

She turned at the call and saw Mitch Sullivan hurrying towards her along a first floor corridor. He had grown over the holidays, as had his hair, and he was now several inches taller than she was, with a muscular frame and... a blue and silver badge which stood out on his chest, gleaming as it caught the overhead lights.

Hope tried to squash down the feeling of jealousy as it writhed in the pit of her stomach. Mitch would be a worthy captain. He would be able to lead the team to another victory, possibly even two more victories. He had been a solid player for the Ravenclaw team over the last two years and he deserved it.

I deserved it more.

Mitch saw her staring at his chest.

"Yeah, I- I got captain," he said, fiddling with the badge and looking rather embarrassed. "I was so shocked – it should have been you, everyone knows that."

Hope brought out her usual careless shrug. She had perfected it by now.

"But... I did want to ask if you'd like to help with trials?" Mitch went on. "I'm hardly going to ask you to try out, am I? And it would be good to have a second eye."

Hope accepted this with a smile. Mitch hadn't asked to be appointed quidditch captain. It wasn't fair to resent him for it. And what did it really matter? Maybe she wasn't cut out to lead the team. Maybe she would enjoy her final season all the more without the added responsibility.

"Hope!"

Cadmus had apparently got bored of waiting by the entrance hall and was now coming up the first flight of stairs to find her.

"I'd better go," Hope sighed. Unless she was much mistaken Cadmus appeared annoyed, although she couldn't quite fathom why - they had agreed to meet at midday and it was five minutes to. "I'll help at the trials though, don't worry. And – and you deserve it. Honest. That cup is ours again, and we're bringing the record home this year too!"

Mitch smiled back at her before moving on his way. He was handsome, Hope thought suddenly, with his high cheekbones and light blue eyes.

You're supposed to fancy your boyfriend, not your quidditch captain.

I do!

Cadmus was apparently of similar mind, and shot an unpleasant look at Mitch's retreating back as he caught up with her.

"Flirting, are we?" he enquired.

"Talking to my quidditch captain," Hope corrected him, doing her best not to snap. "There's no rule against that, is there?"

"I was only joking, no need to be touchy," Cadmus said calmly. "Bit weird him being captain though, isn't it? Didn't you think you would get it? You've been on the team the longest."

Nearly everyone Hope knew had expressed a similar sentiment on finding out that she wasn't quidditch captain. So why did it sound different coming from Cadmus? Why did it feel like he was mocking her? Or was she so overly sensitive about the whole subject now that she couldn't even take a simple observation without feeling targeted?

"Who cares about a stupid badge," she said, pushing the confusing thoughts to the back of her mind. "Let's go outside."

The grounds were delightful, even though the warmth was already fading from the sun, and Hope felt better as she breathed in the fresh air. Cadmus made no further mention of quidditch or captains and they spent an enjoyable afternoon speculating on the contents of their upcoming classes based on the reading material they had been set. Then, as the grounds emptied almost completely, he turned to her.

"I've got something for you."

He looked almost shy, endearingly so, as he handed her the package, and Hope felt her affection for him heighten, their irritable exchange from earlier completely forgotten.

"Happy birthday! I didn't forget, I promise. I just wanted to give it to you in person."

Hope pulled the ribbon off the parcel, her mouth falling open slightly as she extracted a small box from the wrappings and inspected the contents.

"It's… lovely." She didn't know what to say. It was lovely, a gold chain with a tiny, sparkly pendant in the shape of a star, but it also looked very expensive, which made Hope feel awkward. He must have spent at least five times what she had spent on his birthday present, the previous spring, possibly ten times more.

"Here."

He took it from her grasp and fixed it around her neck. She looked down and touched it gently as it glittered in the afternoon sun.

"You shouldn't have..." she started.

"Of course I should have. I wanted to get you something special."

Hope tried to rationalise. Cadmus was not short of money, that much had always been obvious, and it would be rude to be anything less than grateful for the gift.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I love it."

"And we should go into Hogsmeade at the weekend," Cadmus continued. Hope had forgotten, being the youngest in the year, that turning of age meant the privilege of going to Hogsmeade whenever you wanted, not simply when there was an organised visit. "I'll book us a table at The Wee Cauldron. My treat."

Hope swallowed. The Wee Cauldron was the fanciest restaurant in the whole village, and the extravagant birthday present had made her feel uncomfortable enough. Her own family was far from poor and she was perfectly capable of paying her own way, assuming they went to a normal restaurant where it didn't cost ten galleons for a small glass of wine.

"Consider it a birthday meal," Cadmus cajoled.

"We don't have to go somewhere fancy, we could have lunch anywhere."

'I know, but I want to take you on a proper date, not a 'we're going into Hogsmeade so let's go together' thing."

He grinned at her with his even teeth.

"Go on. I want to treat you. Please?"

"OK then, proper date it is."

He leaned towards her for a kiss, eyes intense, and as they broke apart, Hope knew what he was going to say two seconds before he did.

"I love you, Hope."

Hope had wondered, over the past weeks, whether those words were coming any time soon, but the emotions they stirred up took her by surprise. No one had ever loved her before, not unless they had to. Family and best friends didn't count. What Adam had felt for her certainly hadn't been love, nor what she had felt for him.

As for what she felt for Cadmus... He was looking at her expectantly and she tried to get her thoughts together. There was only one suitable response to someone telling you they loved you, wasn't there? And they had been together for nearly a year. She must love him. Yes, of course she did.

"I love you too."

O

It did strike Hope multiple times over the following days that she had expected being in love to feel... different. Everything she had previously read and observed about romantic love pointed to deep, overwhelming feelings, to intensity and certainty. Yet she felt much the same way towards Cadmus as she had from the beginning. She liked him. She found him attractive. Occasionally she didn't understand him and sometimes they argued, but they got through their disagreements quickly enough. She had fun with him and looked forward to seeing him each day. Was that the same as being in love? She didn't have anyone to ask. Roxanne had never been in love with the boys she had streamed through in her final years at Hogwarts. Dom had not had any proper relationships at school, to Hope's knowledge. Michael Longbottom currently appeared very in love with Esme but, friends though they were, Hope could not possibly ask him what that felt like. Teddy would know, as would her parents, but asking them would be even more embarrassing. She would have to figure it out for herself.

Maybe love was different for everyone, she mused, the evening before her "birthday" date. Maybe she needed to stop analysing, be patient and see where the relationship took them.

O

The Wee Cauldron had good reason to be expensive, with exquisite food, sophisticated décor and attentive service. At first, Hope tried to choose the more reasonably priced items for herself, but Cadmus clearly was not bothered about the cost, ordering far more than was necessary and insisting that she should try whatever she wanted. So Hope made the most of it, and allowed herself, reluctantly, to be spoilt. He had said it was a birthday meal and a treat, after all.

Later, as they took the longer route back up to school in an attempt to work off the copious amounts of food and drink, they passed the Hogsmeade branch of The Wheeze and Hope stopped short at the display in the window. It held what looked like a range of coloured notepads, with flashing signs stuck up all around them. Cadmus came to a halt too.

"Wiznote?" he read from the largest sign, forehead furrowed. "What are they?"

He scanned the notice below it and read aloud:

"Bored of owls and old-fashioned memos? Fed up with waiting hours or days for replies. Look no further! Introducing, exclusively from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the WIZNOTE. Write your message and get a reply within minutes, wherever you are and whatever you're doing. Discreet and portable, never worry about your owls going astray again."

"Like a magical equivalent of texting!" Hope exclaimed. "Finally!"

Cadmus looked bemused at her enthusiasm and she hastened to explain.

"Ron and George have been trying to find a way of simulating muggle mobile phones for years," she said. "There's a massive gap in the wizarding market for it, and Grandad Weasley's always nagging them to keep trying, you know, because he's obsessed with muggle things-"

Cadmus nodded patiently as she went off on a slight tangent, but Hope thought she detected a glint in his eye. For some reason, she has always had the impression that it annoyed Cadmus when she talked about the Weasleys, even though he had never given any outright sign that he disliked them, or been unfriendly to Dom and Roxanne when they had been at school.

"Anyway," she continued hurriedly. "There are loads of rules and regulations now about products that mimic anything to do with muggle technology, particularly communication devices. You can't just create a wizard version of the mobile phone because of muggle welfare concerns, and so Ron and George couldn't get most of their ideas through the approval process. But now it looks like they have. Come on, let's go and see them!"

Cadmus made no objection and they pushed open the bright shop door. It was quiet inside, and Hope was glad they hadn't come on an official visit. The Wheeze was always packed on school trips, and she doubted they would have been able to get near the new product at all.

"So how does it work?" She picked up a sample Wiznote. They resembled small but ordinary notebooks, albeit with a different feel to them - heavier with more durable pages.

Cadmus took one himself as he read the instructions pinned to the wall.

"You put the pads back to back so they recognise each other as contacts."

Hope handed him the one she was holding so that he could do as instructed.

"Then." Cadmus did look impressed as he flipped one book open at the first page. "It creates a separate page for each new contact. And you write with this…" He plucked out the tiny carved pencil that was slotted into the spine. "...with this end," he scribbled a couple of words. "And tap it with the other," he jabbed at the page with the rounded end, "and the words should appear on the other person's pad."

Sure enough, Hope looked down at the Wiznote she was holding and saw the words materialise instantly.

Hello Hope. This is cool.

She grinned and scribbled back.

Amazing!

You're cool too.

Thanks.

I love you.

"Hello!"

Hope, who had been dutifully replying with the words like she always did, looked up to see George Weasley beaming over at them.

"Fancy seeing you here! Admiring our latest invention, I see."

"They're so cool," Hope exclaimed. "I know you've been trying to make something like this for ages. I thought you were aiming for a telephone design - but these are genius!"

"It was Albus's idea, would you believe?" George shook his head in apparent amazement. "The hours Ron and I have spent over the years trying to think of loopholes to the standard muggle phone design that would pass regulations. Popped in to see Ginny one day and Al was there and gave us his two knuts' worth - 'but couldn't you just adapt a regular notepad or diary that we can write messages in?' - and here we are a year later."

"Well it was a great idea on his part," Hope said. Then she noticed that Cadmus was standing there silently and made to introduce him. "Oh, George, this is Cadmus."

"Morella's brother?" George enquired as Cadmus shook hands politely and nodded. "Good to meet you."

"You too sir. Really great invention." He gestured towards the Wiznotes. "They will take off, no doubt about that. Especially with everyone up at school."

"Thanks very much," George replied. "I don't think we'll be replacing owls any time soon, certainly not with the older generations, anyway, but it's a start. I think they'll be flying off the shelves come the first Hogsmeade visit. If you want to do some early promoting for us, do feel free!"

"We'd be delighted to."

"How far do they go?" Hope broke in eagerly. "Can you send a message anywhere you like?"

"Anywhere within Britain at the moment." George's tone was understanding as he replied. "They wouldn't reach the girls in Australia I'm afraid, Hope. Not until we get a worldwide license for it, and that could take a while."

Hope put the Wiznote back on its stand, trying to ignore the prickling of disappointment in her midriff. It would have been nice to have live communication with Dom and Roxanne. Not that she had any excuse for not replying to their most recent letter.

"Did you still want to get another pygmy puff?" George added, rearranging a couple of boxes on the shelf next to them. "We've had a new breeding - got all the colours back there."

"Oh." Hope's lungs seemed to contract as she thought of Oompa, her tiny companion for so many years, who she still sometimes expected to see hopping up and down her arm before remembering that she was gone. She had been putting off getting a new one, but it had been months now. Maybe it would help to have another pet.

"No pressure," George assured her. "Just letting you know we have some."

"A pygmy puff?" Cadmus raised his eyebrows as George strolled away. "Seriously?"

"What's wrong with a pygmy puff?" Hope rounded on him in surprise. "You liked Oompa, didn't you?"

"Yeah, she was cute! And I know you were gutted when she died. But you got her when you were a little kid, didn't you? It's not really a pet you get as an adult."

"Oh."

Hope was an adult now. She often forgot that.

"Just my opinion," Cadmus said, turning back to Wiznotes. "Shall we get a couple of these, then? What colour do you want?"

Hope took a look at the price. Twenty-five galleons for Hogwarts students. Very reasonable, considering their scope, but still a fair dent in her savings, and it wasn't like she had a load of friends to message on a daily basis.

"I'll buy them, don't worry," Cadmus added, noticing her hesitation.

"No," Hope said at once. "Absolutely not. And it's not the cost, anyway. I'm not sure we need them, that's all."

"What do you mean? They'll be great. We can message each other when we're in our own dormitories, and it'll be easier to keep in contact when we're back home for the holidays too!"

Hope was now heartily wishing she had not dragged them into the shop at all. She already saw Cadmus nearly every minute of her waking day during term time. Did she need to talk to him during her limited time alone as well?

"I'm buying two," Cadmus insisted. "It's my money and I can do what I want with it, and then it would be a waste for you not to have one! Think of it as a birthday present."

"You already gave me a birthday present, and you bought me lunch today."

Both of which were extortionate.

"Second birthday present, then."

"I don't need one."

"But I want to get you one! Here, you can have blue for Ravenclaw."

Seeing she had no choice in the matter and not wanting to appear ungrateful, Hope relented and followed Cadmus to the check-out. George flashed Hope a smile and made no comment as he took Cadmus's money with a word of thanks and bagged up their purchases, but Hope felt another stab of regret as she caught sight of the large cage on the back wall behind the counter. Pygmy Puffs were only three galleons. She would have much preferred to be leaving the shop with a colourful, friendly little ball of fluff sitting merrily on her shoulder, and paid for with her own money.

oOo

October

Cadmus had never told Hope why he could see thestrals, and she had not asked again after his reaction the previous year, but one afternoon the subject came up on it's own. Passing an apparently deserted patch of forest, Cadmus jumped suddenly, looked sideways and then flinched before averting his gaze.

"What is it?" Hope turned to stare too.

"Nothing."

Hope eyed the blank stretch of leafy earth, comprehension dawning.

"Thestrals?"

Cadmus had moved on already.

"Wait." She quickened her pace to catch up with him.

"Look, I'm not trying to pry," she said, slipping her hand through his and attempting to slow him down. "And I don't expect you to tell me everything. But I tell you stuff about my life when you ask me, even personal things, and you hate it when I don't answer your questions. It's kind of weird you won't tell me about this… or anything really."

He withdrew his hand and turned to face her, his expression taught.

"You know what thestrals are, don't you? Why people can see them?"

"Of course I do."

"Well then."

"It's just- it would be nice if you told me some things."

"Fine. But not this."

"But-"

"Look, you don't want to sleep with me yet and you told me over and over again that I would have to accept that." He glared at her pointedly. "And I did, didn't I? I don't mention it anymore. So you'll need to accept this."

That silenced her. It was a fair point. Wasn't it?

O

To Hope's surprise, Cadmus apologised to her the following day. A little stiffly, true, but an apology was an apology, and she had long ago realised that they came to Cadmus no more easily than they came to her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said. "There are some things I don't like to talk about. Everyone has things they don't like to talk about. You can understand that, can't you?"

Immediate and obvious examples sprang to Hope's mind within seconds. The haunted flicker in her father's eyes at the mere mention of the name Peter Pettigrew. Gran's savage expression when she had told her about Bellatrix Lestrange. Her mother explaining, only once and with obvious difficulty, about the pain of losing Sirius, her cousin and one of her best friends, just a year after being reunited with him. Then there was George, who refused to mention the battle of Hogwarts, even twenty-four years on from the death of his twin. Roxanne, who, for all she appeared confident and careless, had a deep seated dread that her parents would one day have a row big enough to split them up. Hope knew she had never been able to broach the topic with them directly. And Dom had many personal issues that she was reluctant to discuss, even with her best friends. As for herself, Hope spent a lot of time nowadays avoiding difficult conversations and skirting round topics she found painful and awkward, changing the subject and insisting all was fine.

And now Cadmus stood before her asking her to respect his boundaries in turn. His apology was genuine and his explanation simple, and she felt a swell of guilt for her attitude the previous day.

"Yes," she murmured. "Of course I understand that. I'm sorry too."

O

Thankfully, no further disagreements came between them in the following weeks. Maintaining constant communication with him through the Wiznotes was also not as bad as Hope had initially feared. It was nice, in fact, to be able to send him a quick message to say goodnight, check in after curfew if she had a homework question, or let him know if she was running late for meeting up with him in the morning or after quidditch practice.

The two of them kept their word to George, and spread the news about Wiznotes far and wide, so that by the time the first official Hogwarts visit was announced, half the pupils in the school were itching to buy one. The other half were saving all their money to get one in the future, and Hope felt a pang of sympathy for the other Hogsmeade vendors unlikely to get a look in come the weekend, with all the attention fixated on The Wheeze's new invention.

All in all, Term One progressed as it did every year. Hope fell a little behind with her work, but most of the year were struggling to keep up nowadays, so high was the standard expected in one's final year of NEWT study.

Quidditch, above all, kept her motivated. Captain or not, it was by far the best thing about being at school, and, although she did miss the odd practice, she never felt better than she did while flying, with the fresh air in her face and the cool breeze giving her life. They were drawn against Slytherin for mid-November, but Hufflepuff were to play Gryffindor first, at the end of October, which would give them a good idea of what they were up against for the rest of the season.

Cadmus, after failing to produce an acceptable essay for his latest potions assignment, managed to land herself in detention for the time the match was taking place, meaning that Hope, for the first time in six years, had no one to watch it with. The obvious and most logical choice would be to sit with the rest of the Ravenclaw team, particularly given that she and Mitch would need to discuss tactics at some point for their match against both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. But Cadmus had always been touchy about her spending time with Mitch unless strictly necessary for quidditch training. The jealousy was completely unfounded, and Hope knew fine well she should not be amending her behaviour over something so stupid, but on the other hand, she wasn't sure it was worth the potential arguments when she could easily catch up with Mitch in the common room afterwards and have their debrief there, without Cadmus knowing anything about it.

She could sit with Albus and Scorpius and support Hufflepuff, she supposed, but she rarely spent time with them at school, and it would appear weird, maybe even rude, to do so just because her boyfriend was in detention. She had not forgotten Elodie's words from their first year: "Everyone thinks she's stuck up because she never bothers with anyone unless her so-called friends are busy." They stung, even now, and prevented her from reaching out to people she didn't normally spend time with. Eventually, Hope decided that she would see if Michael and Esme were around on the day, and if she couldn't find them, well... she was hardly a stranger to doing things on her own.

Walking up between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables on the morning of the match, however, Hope found herself ambushed by Hugo Weasley, who jumped out eagerly when he saw her.

"Hope! Are you watching the match? Are you on your own? Where's Cadmus?"

"Oh... in detention," Hope said. "He'll miss the whole thing, I think, unless it turns out to be a long one."

Hugo's face lit up.

"You have to come and sit with us then! Come on! We're all going down after we've eaten breakfast."

She hesitated, but she could see no sign of Michael or Esme, and she was sick and tired of being the loner at school. There was no denying it was nice to feel wanted. Lily also looked thrilled as Hugo led Hope over to their group and informed his cousin that she would be watching the match with them.

It was only after she had sat down that Hope remembered precisely why she spent so little time with Hugo and Lily when they were at school. She adored them both. Hugo was funny, sweet and dependable, Lily mature, kind and thoughtful. Their other classmates, however, had to be the most annoying group of people she had ever come across. Loud, silly, childish and as tactless as Lily was tactful, Hope had wondered in the past why on earth her two friends bothered with them at all.

Just because you don't understand amicable doesn't mean no one else does.

She plastered a false but convincing smile on her face as she waited for them to finish their breakfast. A couple of them ogled her shamelessly.

"Your Mum is second in command in the Auror office, isn't she?" one girl demanded. Hope thought her name might be Tiana. Lily rolled her eyes and shot Hope an apologetic grimace.

"Not exactly. There isn't an official second in command. She is very senior though."

"And your brother's making a cure for werewolves?" the boy sitting next to her asked.

"He's trying to."

"How is he doing that? I thought it wasn't possible?"

"Well, it's pretty technical. I don't understand a lot of it myself to be honest. But it's to do with genetics."

"Are you going to join him in his research when you leave?"

Hope snorted internally at the mere idea that she might be clever enough to do such a thing, but before she could reply, another girl broke in to their conversation.

"Hope's not going to do research," she snapped. "She's going to be a quidditch player. My brother says so. He says she'll be recruited by the top leagues as soon as she leaves school."

Maybe Hope should have felt flattered, but the conversation was already exhausting her and she couldn't even be bothered to wonder who this mystery boy was who thought she should be a pro quidditch player. Thankfully, Lily seemed to notice, and decided it was time for them all to go down to the match.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered to Hope, falling back a little from the group. "They do mean well. They are just a lot to take and have no subtlety. I hated them all during my first term here - they treated me like a freakshow just because Harry Potter is my dad. But they're OK really when you get used to them. I'm glad I gave them a chance in the end."

Hope considered this. Perhaps if she had given her own classmates a proper chance in her first term at school she wouldn't be struggling so much to enjoy Hogwarts now, six years later.

Once the group's attention was fixated on the match, Hope had a good time watching it. It was a scrappy game which was eventually stolen by Hufflepuff, and, despite their obvious disappointment, Lily and Hugo hung back with her in the grounds afterwards to discuss the plays in depth.

"Can't wait to see you play in the next one," Lily said, as Hope decided it was time to go and find Cadmus after his detention before he started worrying where she was. "Your matches are always the most exciting!"

Hope couldn't help but feel her mood lift as she went on her way. Quidditch, if nothing else, was going to get her through the rest of the year.

oOo

November

Ravenclaw beat Slytherin easily, and Hope, much as she tried to stay modest and oblivious throughout the jubilant aftermath, knew that if she had ever played a match that earned her Rosie's title of "best player in the school" it was this one. She had scored goal after goal, made steal after steal, set up a handful of useful assists and knew she had been responsible for a lot of their successful strategies too, Mitch having consulted her heavily on tactics in the run up to the match. Even Cadmus, who had been disgusted at Slytherin losing to Ravenclaw the year before, accepted his house defeat with good grace this time around, admitting that his dormmates had discussed the match together afterwards and the general consensus of Hope's own game was Seriously Impressive, high praise indeed from the surly Slytherin seventh years.

The day after the match, they were walking down to Herbology during break when Michael and Esme came hurrying up behind them.

"Just wanted to update you on the hilarious conversation we heard last night in the common room," Michael said as he fell into step beside Cadmus. "It would seem you have an admirer, Hope."

Hope felt Cadmus stiffen beside her and swallowed, apprehensive. Cadmus was prone to rash and unexplained displays of jealousy, and any mention of competition for her affection was best avoided, joke or otherwise. But there was no way to subtly convey that to Michael now.

"An admirer?" she repeated nervously.

"Nothing you should be worried about, Cadmus," Esme assured him, grinning. "Unless you feel threatened by little Omar Goldstein. You've probably seen him around, he's the tiniest kid in the school, even smaller than I was when I was a first year."

Hope thought back to the sorting earlier in the year and then snorted with laughter.

"The one with the dark curly hair who always has that giant backpack he can barely lift?"

"Yep," Michael said. "He was sitting near us with his friends and wouldn't shut up about you all evening." He put on a high pitched voice. "And did you see the way she scored that first goal. And that dive near the end! And all those steals. It was just incredible play!"

"It was so funny," Esme sniggered. "Then he said you were better than Florence Melling and should go pro, and his friend said no way, you were good but not that good, but that you could probably be as good as Ginny Potter if you trained more. It became heated after that."

Hope laughed again and even Cadmus cracked a smile.

"Anyway, we have to speak to my dad quickly before class," Michael said. "But we'll see you there!"

They walked away hand in hand and Cadmus grunted slightly beside her.

"What?" Hope demanded, nervous again. Surely Cadmus wasn't about to make a scene because an eleven-year-old kid had a quidditch based crush on her.

But Cadmus was still looking in the direction of Michael and Esme's retreating backs.

"Nothing. He's seriously punching, with her. That's all. Longbottom, I mean."

"Punching?" Hope repeated. "What do you mean?"

"You know, punching above his weight. Sitting below her league." Then, as she continued to look nonplussed: "It just means that she's stunning and he's... you know... average if that."

Hope stopped short and glared at him, a streak of anger on Michael's behalf searing through her. Michael may not be family the same way the Weasleys were, but he was still her lifelong friend and one of the kindest, funniest people she knew. Cadmus had no right to speak about him like that, even if his comments were true. Which, in her opinion, they weren't.

"Oh come on, I'm joking," Cadmus sighed, in the face of her stony expression. "He's not the only one with a beautiful girlfriend, after all." He fiddled with one of her stray strands of hair to show he was talking about her but Hope's scowl did not change. Cadmus should know by now how much she hated people commenting on her looks. One quick push with her mind and she could resemble Urg the Unclean for the rest of the year. How would Cadmus feel about that? Or she could make herself as breathtakingly beautiful as Dom's veela great grandmother, Mireille. Then we'll see whose punching above their weight, she thought savagely.

"Don't be mad," Cadmus pleaded, pulling her towards him. "I know looks don't mean anything to you, but you are beautiful. I'm allowed to think that, as your boyfriend. And you're a future quidditch star to boot. The whole school is talking about how good you are, it's not just clueless first year kids. Maybe you will go pro one day. Then little Omar Goldstein can collect all your quidditch cards and have them framed and stare at them all day long."

He was clearly amused rather than resentful and, grudgingly, Hope allowed herself to be mollified by the comments about her flying. Playing professional quidditch was still a secret ambition that burned away inside her, and although she was not ready to admit it to anyone, not even her boyfriend, it was comforting to know that Cadmus did not find the idea ridiculous.

"Maybe," she muttered, allowing him to hug her properly and giving him a quick kiss. "Let's get a move on, or we'll be late for Herbology."

O

Hope was up late, the last one remaining in the common room, trying and failing to finish an essay on relations between the Auror Department and the Ministry of Magical Security. The topic was an interesting one, but it was proving hard to put her thoughts into coherent paragraphs. Her close relationship with two senior Aurors was also less helpful than one might have imagined, as it turned out that "Nymphadora Lupin and Harry Potter both think that Chief Higgs is an arrogant prick' didn't have a suitable place in the essay.

Deciding to try again tomorrow, Hope cast aside her parchment and pulled out the Marauder's Map instead. She often got it out in the evenings now, enjoying watching everyone in the school go about their business without the slightest clue that they had a silent and distant observer.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The little inked dots appeared as always and she scanned the parchment idly. Cadmus was in his dormitory along with the other Slytherin boys, no doubt asleep, having said goodnight to her via Wiznote an hour ago. Michael and Esme were in the Gryffindor common room, likely making the most of the fact that it was otherwise deserted. Vector was in her office. She often was until late into the night. Hope supposed that running Hogwarts constituted far more than your standard nine to five job.

Albus and Scorpius were walking across a corridor on the seventh floor. Interesting. So much for Albus never spending a night out of bed. Maybe Albus was in the possession of the invisibility cloak. Hope wouldn't put it past James to turn soft and pass it on to Albus, for all his talk about his brother being a goody two shoes. And what on earth was he doing with Scorpius out so late?

The clock struck two, and Hope yawned. Speaking of late, she should go up to bed.

"Mischief managed."

She tapped the map, then smiled humourlessly to herself, as the words she had just spoken registered properly in her ears. Watching people go about their nightly boring business could hardly be described as mischief. The map had been created with the intention of far more troublemaking than this, and she wondered if her father and his friends would be disappointed in her lack of creativity and resourcefulness now that the map had been passed down to her.

"You're Moony's Daughter."

James had said the words as if it were a great achievement, when he had given her the map. But when had she ever lived up to the Marauder name? She wondered if the other marauders knew their old friend had a daughter, and a son. Were they watching over them, somewhere, egging them on in their misdeeds that would never compare to their own magnificent feats of daring?

For some mad reason that she couldn't justify even to herself, Hope tapped the map again with her wand and murmured, "I am Moony's daughter."

Nothing happened. Unsurprised, Hope cast her wand aside, wondering what she had been expecting. And then her mouth fell open in shock. Words had started appearing on the map, long lines of it, in four slightly different scripts. Hope reached out a trembling hand and pulled it closer to read.

Dearly beloved son or daughter of the Marauders…

If you are reading this you clearly have figured out how our map works, for which we offer you our heartfelt congratulations. Although, of course, we expected nothing less. I hope we didn't help you figure it out. It is certainly not our intention to mollycoddle you. You have to earn the title of Marauder – you can't have it handed to you on a silver platter!

For your reference, it is the summer of 1977, and we're leaving you this message - admittedly after too many glasses of wine -

Prongs – remember that's your future children you're speaking to.

Yes I am aware of that. The whole point of this was for them to know we were once fun, in case we've become strict and boring in our old age.

I highly doubt you will ever become strict or boring.

You might though, Moony.

Possibly. But for me it's irrelevant, isn't it? There's no chance of me even getting married, let alone having children.

For chrissake Moony, you can't say that in a message to our future kids. How is that going to make them feel?

Shall we start again?

No – we said we would record a true and honest snapshot of the Marauders for the next generation to read one day. But reader... if you are Moony's son or daughter, please go and slap him round the head and tell him he's an idiot.

Anyway, back to the point. We want you to know that, if you do indeed see us as strict, boring or old (which we sincerely hope you don't), we were not always thus. Did you know, for example, that Padfoot glued the entire transfiguration department to the ceiling last year. It took them a week to figure out how to get it down.

That Prongs once flew out of the Gryffindor common room right up to the top point of the roof of the Astronomy tower and left his boxers there. They might be there, for all you know.

I was proud of that one.

Hey, it was my idea!

Not forgetting Wormtail, who spiked all the Slytherin's breakfast pumpkin juice with hair-loss potion once a month for a year. We christened it Balding Day.

Wait, what if our children are in Slytherin?

Our children will not be in Slytherin, Wormtail! Don't be so ridiculous. They will all be Gryffindors like we are. It's your turn to speak.

Oh yeah. Um... and even Prefect Moony the good boy once got a week's worth of detentions for levitating Flitwick up into a Christmas Tree during Christmas Dinner and hanging him from it like a bauble.

That was gold!

The fairy tutu was all on you, Padfoot, I seem to remember.

So with that in mind, young Marauder, we hope you are living up to our name, pulling pranks on the people you don't like, getting more detentions than you can count, sneaking around at night and discovering the secret passageways around and out of the castle. And if we're there in the background nagging you and telling you that we want you to be good children, stay out of trouble and study hard every evening before getting an early bedtime, just come to us and show us this message! It'll remind us of who we really are.

Padfoot, anything else to say to the next generation?

Children of Prongs… is your Mum called Lily? If not, definitely don't mention this part to your dad, but-

Yes. Thank you. That's enough from Padfoot. Wormtail?

Um... yeah, what Prongs said. When we say stay out of trouble we mean… get into trouble.

Moony?

Moony, will you just say something?

I – I don't know. May you all be Marauders, and do us proud.

Urgh. You're old and boring already. But it'll do.

Farewell for now, Marauderling. We look forward to meeting you in about ten years' time. It may be longer than that actually. We don't want to be tied down too soon! But I can promise you that if you are reading this, we are simply delighted that you are in our lives.

Much love!

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Hope stared down at it, her heart thudding against her ribcage. On the face of it, it was merely a bit of fun, something done for a joke, created by four obviously drunk teenagers who didn't have a care in the world. Why shouldn't they write a message to their future children, after all? A time capsule of sorts, a snapshot, as James Potter had said himself, for a future generation to read, to laugh at, to learn about their parents' antics.

Whatever angle she tried to spin, Hope could see nothing funny about the words she had just read. Three of the marauders were now dead, two of them had died childless, one of them outcast from the group as a traitor. And none of them had had the slightest inkling of what was coming when these words had been recorded and preserved for generations to come. The summer of 1977. Four short years before Voldemort's first downfall and all the tragedies that it represented. And there they were joking about their children thinking they were boring, and not wanting to be tied down with responsibility for another decade or more.

But it was her father's words that made Hope's heart ache most of all. "There's no chance of me even getting married, let alone having children." He had been so sure that he would never have a family, at age seventeen. Even in the inked words, Hope could sense the masked sadness and regret. Little did he know that twenty years later he would have a wife, twenty-one years later a son. Twenty-eight years later a daughter.

A daughter who is a disappointment to him.

Shut up, Hope told the voice in her head, as she folded up the map for a final time that evening and made her way out of the common room. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Don't worry about it though. Teddy is successful enough for both of you.

O

Hope did not sleep a wink that night and was so tired in Defence Against the Dark Arts that she fell asleep on the desk as Edgecombe lectured them on complex fire moulding curses. Cadmus gave her a sharp nudge as Edgecombe swept by and towered over her. Hope jerked herself away and tried to focus.

"Am I boring you, Miss Lupin?" Edgecombe enquired.

"A little," she said, yawning in an exaggerated fashion. "I prefer the practical stuff, you know."

There was a mix of reactions to this. Alec Peters and Andrew Garswitch both sniggered loudly. Elodie rolled her eyes. Esme widened hers nervously and Michael, seated next to her, shot Hope a look that was half amused, half concerned. Cadmus did not say anything.

"Come and see me after class please."

Hope made no protests. This time, she couldn't deny she had deserved it.

"What did you say that for?" Cadmus hissed, as Edgecombe resumed her lecture.

"Oh come on, like you wouldn't have said something similar? You aren't a model student yourself."

"We were supposed to get that library book during break. We won't have time now."

"You can go and get it without me. We don't have to do everything together, do we?"

He scowled and did not reply. The rest of the lesson was spent in stony silence.

"Miss Lupin," Edgecombe said, as she came up to the desk at the end of the class. "Is everything OK?"

Surprised, Hope nodded.

"Yes."

"You fell asleep in my class."

Hope shrugged.

"I'm tired, that's all."

Edgecombe eyed her narrowly.

"Being tired is one thing. Fairly normal at this time of year I would have said. Tired to the point of falling asleep on your desk in a midmorning class is another."

Hope met her gaze with a deliberately placid expression and remained silent. Edgecombe sighed.

"You can do a detention on Saturday night for the unnecessary and impolite comment to me during the lesson. I will overlook the sleeping on the desk on this occasion, but please never let it happen again."

Rather surprised at how lightly she had got off, Hope nodded, and allowed herself to be dismissed without another word.

oOo

December

On Saturday they went into Hogsmeade and Hope picked out her Christmas presents: some books for Teddy, colourful pyjamas for Mum, an ornate purse for Gran and quirky earrings for Roxanne and Dom.

"I don't know what to get for Dad though," she mused, as they meandered up an alley packed with small pop-up stalls. "He's really hard to buy for. I never know which books he wants and he's got so many jumpers and scarfs from me now he could probably start his own shop with them."

Cadmus shrugged. "Can't help you I'm afraid. My family don't do Christmas gifts."

Hope blinked at him in surprise.

"You don't?"

"Well I don't really have anyone to buy for. I don't have grandparents anymore, remember. I've never had cousins. My only uncle was my mother's brother William and he died the year I was born. As for Mother and Father, they give me a chunk of money at Christmas and on my birthday but they never want anything in return. They told me years ago there's no point. They just buy what they need."

"Oh." Hope wasn't sure what to say to this.

"Like I care," he added, smirking at her crestfallen expression. "Think of the hassle you are going through to pick out presents that you think your family will want, when they might not even like them. And they'll do the same for you. All that money and time spent when it would have been easier for everyone to buy themselves something they knew they really wanted. Present giving is a bizarre tradition if you think about it."

That made sense, but something about it seemed terribly sad to Hope. Wasn't part of the joy of Christmas presents getting a surprise gift that you would never have bought for yourself but that someone else had picked out specially for you?

"I'll still get you something though," Cadmus hastened to add. "It's different for boyfriends and girlfriends."

Shit, that was a point - what on earth was she going to get for Cadmus? She'd have to figure that out soon.

"No, no," she said at once. "I'm not bothered about that. I... didn't know, that's all. So you don't even do gifts with Morella?"

"Nope, we escape the family dinner as soon as we can, go out on Christmas night and spend the money we would have spent on each others' presents getting pissed. Have done since she was fifteen. She had a massive row with my father and stormed out of the house and to the nearest bar. I went with her and it became a tradition after that."

Hope didn't remember this subject coming up last year. But then she and Cadmus had only been going out a few weeks at the time.

"You can join us this year, if you want," Cadmus added.

Startled, Hope had no idea how to reply without being rude. There was nothing she wanted to do less on Christmas night than get drunk in a random bar, whether it was with her boyfriend or not.

"Thought not," Cadmus said. "Don't worry, you can enjoy your cosy family Christmas as you always do. What are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Um, we're going round to the Potters' house."

"Figured."

What was that supposed to mean? Was he angry? Upset? Resentful? Annoyed that she hadn't automatically wanted to spend it with him?

You could invite him to your house for Christmas night. Or to the Potters' for New Year. You know Harry and Ginny wouldn't object. And your parents keep saying they want to meet him.

But before she could get her thoughts straight, Cadmus had moved on.

"The other Slytherins are going to a rave on New Year's Eve anyway. I might join and to be honest it's not your thing. We can just meet up on New Year's Day?"

"Yes," Hope seized on this with enormous relief. "Yeah, that would be great. And I can see you between Christmas and New Year too."

"You can come to mine whenever, my parents are away from the 26th."

Hope agreed at once, grateful for the easy excuse not to have Cadmus at her own house just yet. She wasn't entirely sure why she was putting it off - it would have to happen eventually. But while there was no pressure on his part to be invited round, she was not going to force it herself.

She mulled over Cadmus's words as she continued to hunt for a suitable gift for her father, finally choosing yet another soft, woollen scarf and a matching hat. She didn't care what he said, Christmas presents were special because of who gave and received them, not because of what they were.

O

"What are you up to now?" Cadmus asked, as they finally made their way back up to school laden with Hope's purchases.

"Got my detention with Edgecombe, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"Hopefully it won't be too bad. Her detentions are never that long, are they?"

"Wouldn't know, I've never had a detention from her."

Hope gaped at him. Cadmus was no more attentive in Edgecombe's lessons that she was.

"Wait, ever? How have you managed that?"

He shrugged, but then his eyes gleamed with something like triumph. "I think she's afraid of me. She leaves me well alone and always has. Think about it - I've got away with whatever I want in her classes, always."

Hope pondered this. She remembered lamenting to Dom and Roxanne once that Edgecombe had told her off and ignored the fact that Cadmus was misbehaving as well. And their explanations had been very similar - that Cadmus was simply more intimidating than she was and the teacher wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs.

It was reasonable enough. Cadmus could be quite formidable when he wanted to be. But what alarmed Hope in that moment was his satisfied smirk, and how comfortable he appeared to be in the knowledge that he incited fear in someone else.

You're afraid of him too, some of the time. You know you are.

"See you tomorrow then, I guess," Cadmus said, breaking through this disturbing realisation as they reached the entrance hall. "I'll just head back to my common room. Let me know how it goes."

Hope made her way through to the defence classroom expecting her teacher to be waiting at the door, but Edgecombe wasn't there. She waited for a few minutes but the professor didn't turn up.

Maybe she was in her office?

Hope padded up the steps and stopped with her hand raised to the door, about to knock, then drew back in alarm. It was ajar, and Edgecombe was inside, sitting at her desk.

She was crying. Sobbing, would be a more accurate description, her shoulders shaking violently, her breath coming out in strangled gasps. Hope could just make out that her hands were clasped around a curl of parchment but there was no clue as to what it was.

Hope hesitated for an agonising couple of minutes. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't go in the room. It would be excruciating for both of them. Should she go and get help? But crying didn't mean that the professor was ill or needed assistance. Maybe she just wanted some peace and quiet.

Could she ignore the detention? Pretend she had forgotten about it? Maybe Edgecombe had forgotten about it herself. She didn't look to be in a position to hand out punishments. Hope felt something extraordinarily like pity seeping through her chest as Edgecombe took another deep, shuddering breath and put her face in her hands. She made no move to get up from the desk. Hope glanced at her watch. The detention should have started ten minutes ago and Edgecombe clearly had more pressing issues for the moment. Making her decision, she made a swift and silent exit and returned to her dormitory, slumped down on her bed and stared up at the hangings, replaying the scene in her mind.

It was all very strange. Had she had some bad news? Or was this related to The Surge, the anniversary of which would be coming up in two weeks time? It had always been obvious that Edgecombe found this time of year difficult, and Hope, now she was older, understood it more than ever. Losing someone she had loved during that time was bound to make the Christmas run up painful for the teacher, doubly so when everyone else was in such a cheery, festive mood.

Hope wondered what had happened to Edgecombe's partner. Had he been a stray victim of The Surge? Killed while fighting against it? Maybe he had been a muggle, sucked into the magical world by chance with no true understanding of its intricacies and dangers. Such had been the case for her other grandmother and namesake, Hope, who had been killed, along with her husband, by Voldemort's Death Eaters during the first war.

Her interest piqued by her renewed wonderings, Hope reached over to pick up a library book from her night stand, one she had chosen to help with a recent essay. It was entitled Darkest Wizarding Events of the Twenty-first Century.

The Surge, as the most lethal incident in Wizarding Britain since Voldemort's time, featured heavily, and Hope flicked to the relevant pages. The introduction explained what she mostly knew already, how the attacks had been deliberately crafted to mimic acts of muggle violence or terrorism; knife crime, gun crime, a nasty explosion on the muggle underground. Most wizards had written it off as "muggle politics", but Kingsley Shacklebolt had suspected otherwise and launched an in depth investigation, finally coming to the conclusion that these crimes were very much magically instigated. It had taken a further six months, during which another fifty people died, before the attacks were brought to an end.

The analysis that followed was detailed and included many pieces of information that Hope didn't know. More animated about academic work than she had been in a long time, she read on well into the evening, completely forgetting to message Cadmus about the circumstances surrounding her detention. Eventually, her Wiznote glowed beside her, indicating a new message.

How was your detention?

She ignored it and turned to the next section of her book, which detailed The Final Surge, the day the Aurors had finally tracked down those responsible for the attacks. All involved had been caught and sentenced to life imprisonment. A couple had appealed their conviction since then, but Hope doubted that any of them would see the light of day again. Granting appeals had not worked in the Ministry's favour in recent years.

Cadmus messaged again.

What you up to now?

Why did it matter what she was doing? Was it not reasonable to think they could spend time apart without needing to know each other's business? Hope read another few pages about the final round up. Several of the instigators had died in the confrontation, and two Aurors had been killed as well. Hope shuddered as she read on. She knew that her mother had been on the front line that night, despite being officially on maternity leave. Record low numbers within the Auror ranks and Savage's lack of regard for employment rights had seen to that. And Ron too, who had been pressured to stay on in his role for years, even though the work had made him thoroughly miserable. Thank goodness Harry was in charge of the department now.

You ignoring me? (Smiley face)

Yes I am, Hope thought. Why don't you ignore me for a bit too? She turned to the page which detailed those convicted of involvement in The Surge. They were twenty odd names listed and Hope recognised some of the surnames as being vaguely linked to the Voldemort wars and pureblood maniacs - Earnest Mulciber, Cornelia Jugson, William Bulstrode - but no one particular of note and no one she associated with anyone at Hogwarts.

Seriously, are you ignoring me?

The victims were listed in the next section. This time there were over a hundred names inked across a double page, both muggle and wizarding, although the book did not distinguish between the two. A life was a life, after all. Was Edgecombe's partner one of those listed here? Almost certainly, but as Hope knew nothing about him, she had no way of knowing which name was his. Come to think of it, did she even know Edgecombe's partner had been a man? Maybe she had been with a woman. Hope couldn't remember exactly what Hermione had said during the eavesdropped conversation all those years ago. And, she thought uncomfortably, she should never have been listening in the first place. As she grew up, James' rule of extendable earshot was becoming increasingly unethical in her view.

She scanned the list of victims again, taking in every single name, feeling a tiny wave of sadness for each of them. So many lives extinguished, just like that, without any warning of what was coming towards them.

The Wiznote glowed yet again.

Look, there's no way you're asleep, it's only eight o'clock.

Hope let out a snarl of irritation, chucked her quidditch robe robe over it to block out the glow, tossed the library book aside and rolled over onto her stomach with her head under her pillow. She now wished, more than ever, that she had never laid eyes on the Wiznote, and had insisted on buying herself a new pygmy puff from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes instead.

OOO