Of all the things to scare her opponent away, Joey would have never guessed that a soft white glow would be it. Before Rabbit took their abrupt leave, they'd been giving Joey the fight of her life.
Joey rolled to avoid a jet of crackling magenta light, breathing hard. Her team was occupied, far across the clearing, but every time the thought of helping them crossed her mind, Rabbit was there, taunting her with those gleaming black eyes and powerful, far-apart spells.
"Stop messing around!" Joey snapped, retaliating with a spell that should have cleaved Rabbit's mask in two, but they calmly lifting their hands, protecting themself with an invisible shield. Before Joey could try again, Rabbit conjured three stone orbs, and they whistled like cannonballs as they shot towards her.
Joey raised her wand just in time, crumbling two of the orbs to dust, but one of them made it through and caught her in the chest. Joey's breath was snatched suddenly from her lungs, and she stumbled back, wheezing. She gripped her wand tight, palm slick with sweat.
Rabbit approached calmly, in no hurry, something silvery growing in their hand. A simple steel edge, sharp enough to cut Joey's throat if it was flung at her. Joey gathered all her strength, taking up a defensive position. Every breath stung as if someone had carved out one of her ribs - one of them was most definitely broken. Joey cursed the rain, blurring the knife in Rabbit's hand. She could only hope it would hinder their accuracy as much as it did hers.
Then Rabbit's head turned so quickly that Joey's curiosity got the better of her, and she followed their gaze. A figure in red robes was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by Harry, Draco, and a colorfully dressed witch Joey didn't recognize. A gentle white light seeped from beneath the red figure's mask, spilling smoothly through the grass, its tendrils unfurling like mist. The sound of a hundred people sighing in unison echoed through the clearing, raising goosebumps on Joey's arms.
"No…" Rabbit hadn't spoken until now, the fear in their voice crumbled their aura of invincibility - they lowered their hands, eyes widening through their mask.
Joey hesitated for too long, caught off-guard by the strange light. A loud crack rippled through the clearing. Rabbit had disappeared.
Joey grit her teeth in anger, scanning the trees, but before she could decide where Rabbit had gone, a familiar shout ruptured her focus.
"Healer! We need potions, something, please!"
"Harry." A wave of dizziness suddenly rolled over Joey, and she swayed in place, watching stock-still, slightly perplexed at the hazy scene several hundred feet away. Two gray uniforms were huddled around someone's fallen body. Dao? But the now-unmasked woman lay unaccompanied beside them, her bare brown face slack and unmoving.
A fresh jab of pain cracked through Joey's chest, and she groaned, clutching herself, but no blood came off on her fingers. "Son of a bitch," she hissed. Rabbit had most definitely broken one or two ribs.
Joey limped forward, head swimming, boots squishing in the mud. The summer rain was warm, but she still flinched in surprise as she felt it drumming on her bare head, a sensation she'd not yet gotten used to.
She found Harry crying, bent over the body of a the colorfully dressed witch, a wand in her limp fingers. Joey's heart wrenched at her face, blank brown eyes, features that confessed she was much too young to die.
Draco didn't turn, even as Joey moved to stand beside him. He slouched, unmoving, staring with disbelief at the witch.
It took a moment for Joey to get her voice to work. "Who?"
"Dahlia was our…." Draco stopped, shaking his head. He tore his gaze away from the witch, looking up to speak to Joey. Tears streamed down his face, washed away as soon as they came. "She taught us at Hogwarts."
Someone was running to them across the grass. Both Joey and Draco glanced up, but Harry, his face buried in his hands, did not react as Antigone Connors drew near, her usually stern expression struck with grief as she saw the fallen.
"Dahlia." Antigone's frown lines deepened. Joey could only imagine what was going through her head; she must have seen so many die, some even younger. "What happened?"
Joey hadn't known Draco for very long, but she figured even a complete stranger could sense how the air around him turned to ice. He stood, walking a wide circle around Dahlia's body to lay a hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is something we can discuss back home, Commander."
For the first time, Joey let her gaze linger on Dahlia's neck, where the skin had burned and blackened like a splash of ink. She looked over at Dao, whose eyes were closed - she still appeared to be breathing.
Joey thought of something her aunt Caroline had once told her, dark eyes hard with truth. "Cruelty dies much slower than kindness in this world, agboho. This is why we must keep a little of both in our hearts." Perhaps it was that philosophy that kept Joey from shedding tears for a stranger, no matter how precious her life had been.
"Getting you three home sounds like an excellent idea," Antigone agreed, clasping her hands behind her back. "The Thai government got wind of what happened here; we received a missive from them. They'll be in contact soon." As if stirred by her militant tone, Harry slowly raised his head.
"What will happen then?" he asked, voice still broken.
Antigone seemed to soften. "Nothing to concern you, Harry Potter," she said gently. "You and Aurors Malfoy and Clarke have done more than enough."
Her words turned all their heads to Dao, lying unconscious but alive in the grass. The ruby-red robes were stained with mud. The sight drew a sickening comparison to the blood soaking Dahlia's leg. Joey inhaled as if to sigh, but a splinter of pain in her ribs stopped her.
"She murdered her best friend," Harry muttered, green eyes shining with tears and anger, "In cold blood."
"Her best…?" Joey trailed off. She'd seen the vision Dao had given them, but it didn't click until now. Joey tried, for a split second, to imagine a world where she'd ever attack Latifah.
She couldn't do it.
Harry turned his wand in his fingers. Draco laid a firm hand on his arm, knuckles whitening as he squeezed. "Death is too easy," Draco muttered, so softly that Joey thought she might have misheard. "If Wizengamot puts Dao on trial," Draco said, loud enough for Antigone to hear, "There should be Veritaserum and memory search involved. Plenty of magical back-tracing."
"I have little control over that, but I'll be sure to let them know," Antigone said dryly.
"I mean it," Draco insisted. "She should be punished for whatever she's done, and only that."
"I agree," Antigone said, puzzled at Draco's intense gaze, and Joey could admit she was confused too. Draco turned the look on Harry, who only sighed and wiped futilely at his damp cheeks. Joey felt that she was missing something again; her partners seemed to have an infinite number of secrets they shared only with each other.
That was just fine with Joey. She had her own cards to keep face-down.
Joey glared at Dao's unmoving form, remembering what she had called her. "Little boy." We'll see who's little in the end. Joey spat in the grass. Her mouth was stained with coppery fear and bitterness. You're the one who will rot.
• • •
Twilight had begun to melt its way through the streets of Cambridge when Joey arrived at the agreed-upon pub, a rundown but bright little place called Nitwit and John's. It smelled strongly of spearmint and whiskey and was a wizarding favorite, according to Harry. Joey ducked inside, her wand hidden in a holster on her upper arm, draped with navy blue sleeves.
Joey had Apparated to England with broken ribs and a churning stomach two days ago, and she still didn't feel safe. Every stray footstep sent her heart racing, every shadow on a wall made her flinch as if expecting someone to jump out and attack her. Post-mission nerves were something that Joey knew all too well. They would pass. But for now, she wouldn't leave her flat without her wand.
"Table for one, miss?" said an old, pale man with rheumy eyes. His chin barely came up to the host stand.
"Five, please," Joey requested. "The others will be here soon." Two of them, at least. Joey had told Draco and Harry an earlier time on purpose.
Despite his stoop and sagging eyes, the man moved with surprising spryness as he led Joey to a round, green-leather booth. He spread a stack of menus across the table, then was swiftly replaced by a waitress with such bright teal eyes and a wide, toothy smile that Joey thought she looked part mermaid. Which, of course, was entirely possible.
"Anything to drink?" asked the waitress, whose name tag read Nina.
"Um… cider, please. Non-alcoholic."
Joey sighed, lacing her fingers as Nina nodded and glided away. The pub, furnished with colored leather, shining dark wood, and herringbone tile, echoed with the raucous laughter and bottle clinks of its patrons, many of them tourists or college students enjoying their summer off. The English accents, the patterned T-shirts of the waiters, and the strange spearmint-alcohol mix created an environment that was a stark opposite to the Thai forest Joey had been in a few days ago.
And yet, she still couldn't shake it. The taste of blood in her mouth. The shattered purple eyes of the tiger-masked witch. A broken figure in the grass.
"Gbado anya," Joey muttered under her breath. Focus. She was grateful when Nina came with her cold cider - drinking it gave her something to do, calming the chatter in her mind.
Two familiar voices threaded their way through the crowd. Joey nodded to Harry and Draco as they approached. Both looked starved for rest, dark circles beneath their bloodshot eyes. But there was a sense of relief in their faces, and Joey could relate. Since they'd returned to Cambridge, they'd been held at a special Auror ward in St. Mungos, having their injuries healed and their accounts of the mission examined at length - it was nice to be out in the city.
Only six months ago, Joey would never have believed she'd go to a pub after a mission. To hang out with friends, pretend that the harrowing ordeals hadn't happened.
Joey watched Harry stand back to let Draco go into the booth first and receive a smile in return. She figured that maybe returning to normalcy right away wasn't pretending - just another way of healing.
Harry and Draco exchanged pleasantries with Joey before ordering beer and an appetizer of fried mushrooms. "Hermione and Ron aren't here yet," Harry observed. "Is there something you wanted to tell us first?"
Joey raised her eyebrows. "How did you guess?"
"Because Hermione arrives at least ten minutes early to everything," Harry replied, and Joey glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "What's going on?"
Joey chuckled before she could stop herself. "Nothing that hasn't been going on my whole life, really." She paused, the incoming words making her feel warm and uncomfortable as if the pub's lights were heat lamps.
"Draco has guessed this already. It shouldn't be a big deal, really." Joey held Harry's and Draco's gazes in turn, determined not to study the knotted patterns in the wooden table. "Shouldn't" being the key word, Joey thought bitterly, recalling how her father had kicked her out of the house simply for trying to live as her true self. "You're no daughter. Perhaps you don't want to be my son, either."
"When I was born, my parents gave me a typically male name." Immediately, more than an inkling of understanding dawned upon Harry's and Draco's faces. Joey tried not to decipher their emotions just yet, afraid of what similarity they'd bear to her father's anger, some of her acquaintances' disgust. She rushed, "At sixteen, I gave myself the name Joanne Latifah. It was the first of many steps to match my outside to who I was inside. I'm still taking those steps." Joey ran a hand ruefully over her shorn head as she spoke - she hadn't gotten a chance to magically regrow even an inch since returning.
"I'm transgender," Joey said with difficulty, and it was difficult because no matter how much she knew it was true, she'd grown accustomed to what came next. The confusion, the outright horror that accompanied that word when other people heard it, the names and poisonous labels. Her eyes had dipped to the table despite her best efforts. "I had every right not to tell you, but... I'm telling you now."
Joey forced her gaze upwards.
Draco looked completely unsurprised, his features nonchalant and calm. There was a slight tilt of the head, a raise of the eyebrow - Joey had gotten better at reading his expressions and decided this one meant something like, What took you so long? but it disappeared quickly.
Harry's mouth was open, but he snapped it shut when Joey looked up. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion, then he nodded once as if receiving a mildly interesting piece of news. Not a single trace of distaste marred his face.
The first few years of coming out, Joey had frantically blurted, "Is that okay? Please say something." Now, she simply waited, hands clasped, forcing her apprehension not to build to a panic.
Suddenly, Harry's expression changed, eyes widening, and he nodded. "Transgender," he echoed, "I remember now. Hermione mentioned that in her essay."
"Do quote something from it; you must have all her papers memorized," Draco said seriously, but he laughed when Harry made a face at him, and Joey realized he must have been teasing.
"I don't reckon even Hermione has all her papers memorized," Harry said.
"What are you talking about?" Joey cut in, completely nonplussed.
"Hermione did her end-of-term essay on LGBT rights in eighth year," Harry explained. "We talked to her loads about it because… erm, obviously." He nodded to Draco and shrugged. "And we know coming out isn't an easy experience, so… You're trans. That's all right."
"'All right,'" Draco repeated, rolling his eyes. "Excuse my poorly spoken prat, Joey. What he's trying to say is, thank you for telling us."
"Right." Harry bobbed his head, making his glasses flash in the light. "Thank you. It shows you trust us."
Joey felt lightheaded, but in a good way, like she'd just gotten off a rollercoaster. "Well. That was much easier than I thought." She gulped down some of her cider, which tasted crisper and sweeter as if someone had dropped in a tablespoon of honey when she wasn't looking.
Just like that, a weight had been lifted from Joey's shoulders, and the evening continued ticking on, uninterrupted.
Ron and Hermione arrived, as Harry had predicted, ten minutes before the time Joey had given them. Harry leaped to his feet to greet his friends, Ron clapping him on the back and prying off Hermione's embrace before she pounced upon Draco with the same overwhelming protectiveness.
"Gone for weeks," Ron said, shaking his head, thumping Harry on the back, "Not a single goddamn letter!"
"You could have called us after Vietnam!" Hermione exclaimed tearfully, glaring back and forth between Harry and Draco. "We thought you might have died-"
"Couldn't get anything out of Connors, either, told us to wait until after your interrogation," Ron said with a huff, continuing his wife's tirade.
There were a few tense, frustrated moments of silence, then Ron shook his head again, more relieved this time, and Hermione sighed before kissing Harry's cheek and squeezing Draco's shoulder.
"Never mind. You're safe now," Hermione said, and she and Ron took their seats.
"Ron, Hermione, this is our partner, Joey," Draco said.
"Oh! Yes, sorry." Hermione gave Joey a warm, apologetic smile. Her hair was just as frizzy and voluminous as when they had first met, tied back in a strained ponytail. "Hermione Granger."
"Ron Weasley, Hermione's husband. It's nice to meet you. Again," Ron with a grin. Joey didn't think she'd ever seen someone with bluer eyes.
Joey only nodded in response. She'd warmed up to Harry and Draco well enough over the past few weeks, but their school friends were another matter. Ron, in particular, seemed to sense this and said:
"That hair style is smashing."
Joey's hand went to her shaven head again. "Uh…Thanks. I didn't do it on purpose."
"Ah. Well, you've got a good head shape for it," Ron said sagely. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but everyone else seemed to find this acceptable.
Joey wasn't sure how to respond, so she didn't.
"It seems like a lot went wrong for you all to come back this late," Hermione said, nibbling at her lower lip. "I'm almost afraid to ask."
"Not much worse than our adventures at Hogwarts," Harry replied reassuringly.
"Speak for yourself," Draco scoffed. "I didn't enjoy it." His eyes slid to Joey as he adjusted his left sleeve.
"This mission was pretty par for the course for me," she admitted.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Ron urged, putting his hands beneath his chin in a caricature of an eager student. "Give us a good story."
Draco heaved a great sigh, and he exchanged a knowing look with not only Harry but Joey, too, pressing his lips and shaking his head as if to say, I'm not going first.
"A story, huh?" Joey tapped her fingernails against her glass. This would be easier than making idle conversation, at least. "You won't be disappointed."
[Translations from Igbo:
agboho is short for agbohobia, meaning young lady]