Chapter 9
A Fresh Start
"What's that you've got there, Belford?"
Hope craned her neck to try and see further down the table. Parkinson was openly sneering at a parcel her classmate had just opened at the breakfast table.
"Nothing," he said quickly and tried to bundle everything back together again and stuff it into his pocket before Parkinson had a chance to pry further.
"It doesn't look like nothing to me," she said in a way that made Hope's blood begin to boil. Parkinson snatched at the parcel and Matthew Belford glared back at her, even though he was turning redder by the minute.
"Why don't you leave him alone?" Hope snapped.
"Oooh, little Potter's got herself a boyfriend, has she?" Parkinson smirked. "No class and no taste, Belford. You don't have much going for you, do you?"
Belford's face so glowed fiercely at this that it blended with the Gryffindor banner hanging behind him on the furthest side of the Great Hall.
"Better that than no manners!"
"As if you'd know," the raven-haired girl sneered. "Potters are all the same. They always act as if the world owes them everything, and expect everyone to drop down and worship them. It's not going to work with me. I can see right through you!"
Cora dolloped some marmalade on her toast and glanced acerbically at Priscilla Parkinson. "If you're feeling like you're not good enough, I can't see what Hope can do about that. It's hardly Matthew's fault that he's got a parcel when your family have forgotten to send you one."
"At least I've got a family to send me things," Parkinson retorted.
Hope's head spun quickly, ready to leap to the defence of her friend. Her fists were clenched at her sides. How dare she say something like that?
"Except they haven't sent you anything, have they?" Cora smiled sweetly at the other girl and took a large bite out of her toast. Parkinson tossed her head and gave a disgruntled snort of disgust. She sat awkwardly, with her back half-turned to the other three and began chatting to some older Slytherins on her other side.
"Wonder where her poodle is today?" Cora mouthed, jerking her head towards Parkinson. Hope shook her head and shrugged. There was no sign of Rose Lambert along the Slytherin table, not even beside the fifth member of their dormitory who was sitting glumly with a solitary cup of coffee. It was all very strange.
"ROBERT MILES, HOW DARE YOU BE SUCH A DISGRACE TO THIS FAMILY?" Fierce shrieks rang from the other side of the hall, and the giggling Slytherin students craned their necks and giggled to see who had received the Howler. There were jeering and cat-calls. Hope didn't dare look. She knew the voice all too well, and sunk further down into her seat. "WE SEND YOU TO HOGWARTS AND WHAT DO YOU DO? BREAKING RULES AND BEING UP TO NO GOOD AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY AND NIGHT. I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOUNG MAN, IF WE GET ONE MORE OWL TELLING US YOU'RE MISBEHAVING I'LL COME RIGHT UP TO THAT SCHOOL MYSELF AND SORT YOU OUT. BELIEVE ME, I WILL..."
Hope caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye and couldn't stand it any more. She swivelled her legs from under the bench and jumped to her feet.
"Back in a bit," she muttered and hurried from the hall.
She stood in the foyer, gulping in air like she'd never been allowed to breathe before. Her heart was racing. She'd never asked her dad if Robert had had an owl home about being out of bounds, but she should have suspected that Snape would be malicious like that. Robert's parents had always been strict with him, and she'd pulled him into more trouble than anyone could have guessed over the years. Robert had greeted the various punishments meted out to him with a resigned grin, claiming it to have been 'worth it', but suddenly Hope wasn't so sure it would be like that any more. She could only imagine the humiliation Robert must be feeling because of her own stupidity.
Before she could chastise herself further, the door swung open amidst an undisguised roar of laughter and Robert closed it quickly behind him, blotting out the worst of the noise. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but he held himself steady. Not even turning to look at Hope, he began to trudge up the marble staircase, his shoulders bowed and an expression of utter dejection on his face. Hope called after him, but his head just sank lower and he kept climbing.
"Please Robert!" she called, springing up the flight of stairs as quickly as she could. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Wait!"
She caught up with him and pulled on the sleeve of his robes. He stopped and slowly turned to face her. His blue eyes showed hurt and confusion, and Hope could understand why. She'd have reacted far worse if Robert had landed her in trouble and stood by doing nothing to help her. That wasn't what their friendship was about.
"I'm a git," she said.
The corners of Robert's mouth quirked into the smallest of smiles, but he said nothing.
"I'm the gittiest git in gitdom, and I'm surprised you've not punched me or something. I deserve it."
"I did think about it," Robert admitted honestly, "but that probably would have got us both another detention and I'm in enough trouble already. Just let it go, Hope. I'll be all right, even if Mum does want to kill me right now."
"No change there, then," Hope tried to joke, but it fell flat. Robert's eyes sank to the floor again and he shifted uncertainly from one foot to another.
"I told Snape it was my fault."
Robert's head lifted quickly, confusion knitting his eyebrows closely together.
"I can't believe he owled your parents," Hope shook her head in bewilderment. "I told him I was there, said it was my idea and everything. But..."
"It's because he didn't see you," Robert sighed.
Hope's insides twisted. She understood now what had hurt Robert more than anything. It wasn't the detention, or the Howler, or even his parents' disappointment in him. It was the fact she had failed to stand by him and face the punishment together.
"I couldn't," she whispered. "I don't blame you for hating me, but I couldn't."
Robert's perplexed expression returned in full force. "What are you talking about?"
"Cora was hiding with me. She was begging me not to let her get caught because her mum would never forgive her. If I'd stood up in the alcove and let Snape see me, and I was trying to, I'd have got her caught as well. I saw he'd got you and I'd have been there in a second, but it would have got Cora into bother and wouldn't have helped you get out of it. I went to see Snape before breakfast to tell him it was me. I told him it wasn't your fault for being out of bounds. I'm so stupid."
"Yeah, you are." Hope's heart sank for a second until she caught Robert's eye twinkling at her.
"Not as stupid as you."
"Want to bet?"
She giggled and pushed him away from her. He shoved back and she lost her balance and grabbed at his arm. The two of them toppled down a few steps and fell onto the half-landing with a thump in a tangle of limbs and robes. Both were helpless with laughter. A nearby portrait coughed and shook his venerable head disapprovingly at the pair of them.
"Sorry," she repeated. "If I'm ever out of bounds again, I promise I'll not drag you into it."
"You're kidding, right?" Robert sounded incredulous. "After everything we've been through together, you'd seriously think of not taking me along?"
She looked carefully at him. This was Robert; she'd known him virtually all of her life. He knew what she was thinking before she did half of the time. They'd grown up falling off brooms together and making all the adults around them despair at their antics and the state of their clothes afterwards. Being without him was like not having an arm or a leg.
"Friends?"
Robert laughed and hugged her quickly. "I'd not have it any other way."
The doors to the Great Hall swung open once more, and Hope and Robert quickly scrambled to their feet, standing casually apart as if they'd been there all along. A tide of Ravenclaws surged up the stairs, and there was a giggled murmur about the 'Howler boy' on the way past. Robert shot a furtive glance at Hope, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.
"Oh, you've got it coming, Potter. Just you wait!"
"Got to catch me first!" Hope shrieked and flew back down the stairs at breakneck speed, with Robert in hot pursuit.
They bumped and jostled their way through the ever-increasing numbers of students leaving breakfast and heading towards their early morning classes, finally collapsing in a breathless state against the dungeon wall outside Snape's classroom. The shared grin quickly evaporated as the classroom door slid open, and the distinctive shape of the Potions Master filled the void.
Hope found that the day passed far more quickly now that she was actually trying to do well in her lessons. Her quill scribbled and scraped across the parchment in her haste to get the notes down and catch up on what she'd missed through her own inattention the previous week. Snape nodded at her as she left his room, showing a faint sense of approval, yet Professor Sprout regarded her warily throughout Herbology. With the promise of Quidditch at stake, Hope was determined to show she'd changed, even to the point of ignoring Parkinson's whispered taunts.
She dug ferociously in the potting compost, pleased to see that there had been definite growth in her fungi after last week's lesson. It hadn't been as good as Matthew's toadstool, but it wasn't so shabby all the same.
"Rose Lambert's still not here," Cora muttered when Professor Sprout's back was turned. "Wonder what's happened..." Belford glanced swiftly up at them and his eyes scanned the room with interest. He winked at Cora and his stool scraped backwards over the tiled flooring.
"Hey, Flint! Can I borrow your watering can?"
Professor Sprout's head turned momentarily, and Belford strode brazenly across the classroom to collect the equipment from a thickset boy whose dark eyebrows resembled very furry caterpillars. Hope saw the heads from the table lean together and an urgent conversation took place. By the time Professor Sprout had turned round again, Belford was back in his place, watering his own project.
"She's in the hospital wing," he said in an undertone. "The others don't know what's wrong with her, but apparently she turned up there in the middle of the night and Pomfrey hasn't let her have any visitors yet. Didn't you hear anything happening in the dormitory?"
Hope and Cora both shook their heads. His eyes locked momentarily with Hope's, as he sank back into his seat, missing it completely and disappearing from site with an audible thump and groan from the floor. The noise made their teacher bear down upon them, so any further discussion of the matter was abruptly curtailed.
***
There were gasps of admiration in the common room when the news got out, and some envious questions from Belford's friends. Belford himself, hadn't quite understood the enormity of the situation.
"Quidditch?" he asked. "Sounds like a cross between a coin and a hole in the road."
"It's absolutely the best feeling in the world," Hope enthused. "Out there and flying so fast, pitting your wits against the other players and..."
"There's the frantic battle for the Quaffle!" Flint joined in with equal passion. "All the dodging and shoving to try and score."
"My dad's got season tickets to watch Puddlemere United," another boy said.
"They're bottom of the league now," someone else scoffed. "Their Keeper would let the Knight Bus through the hoops."
"That's not true!"
The conversation escalated madly in terms of fervour and noise. Hope had just laughed and turned back round to where Cora was still sitting, and found her looking rather surprised.
"You're Muggleborn?" Cora asked, so that only the three of them could hear.
Belford's lips tightened and he nodded silently.
"Really?" Hope's smile brightened, but Matthew avoided her gaze. "Aunt Hermione's family are dentists, but they're the only Muggles I know. That's really cool!"
Cora shook her head slowly.
"Haven't you learnt yet? It's wrong to be anything other than from a perfect pureblood family. Maybe other houses are different, but Slytherin's always been the same. You fit the ideal or you're out."
"But that's absolute... bollocks!" she finished up, remembering a particularly useful word from Uncle Ron. "As if being pureblood makes you a good person. Look at Parkinson: she's about fifty-fifth generation pureblood and hasn't a nice bone in her body. No one cares. Or no one worth worrying about anyway."
"I wish," Matthew said fervently, and he picked at a little fraying along the edge of the rug. "We're getting on better now in the dormitory, but I'm still an outsider. My mother doesn't have lunch with Flint's, my dad doesn't drop in on the Minister for Magic for a drink and a chat about whatever the magical equivalent of golf is. I don't wear the right clothes or even know which way round to hold a broom. I'll be a complete laughing stock when we get to those flying lessons on Saturday."
Hope tugged at her thumbnail with her teeth. He was probably right. Most of the Slytherins were particularly arrogant about their abilities, so maybe what they had to do was show them how wrong their estimations of someone could be.
"I'll teach you to fly before the lessons start," she said abruptly. "Seriously," she added as Belford gaped at her. "I've been flying more or less since I could walk. I'll get Uncle Remus to teach me some cushioning spells as well, just in case you fall off." Matthew blanched, and Hope giggled. "It's easy. Really it is!"
"If... if you say so."
So the deal was struck. Each night after Quidditch practise, Belford would sneak out and wait for Hope beside the broom sheds. They'd work on his flying for half an hour and then Cora would help them to catch up with the remainder of their homework. It seemed to be a plan with no drawbacks.
The balmy autumn air was cooling as Hope stepped out onto the lawns in front of the castle. The sun glowed golden in the softening sky, and for once, she stopped still and smiled. This was Hogwarts. This was her world. Cries of a mandrake shattered the stillness of the air, and the soft hooting of a few owls replied. Anticipation built in her chest until she could barely keep from dancing. She... Hope Potter... was going to Quidditch training with the Slytherin team for the very first time!
She skipped down the lawns, her feet hurrying faster and faster until she was running, desperate to get to the Quidditch pitch. She'd dreamed of this all her life; admittedly the robes had been a very different colour, but it was about to become reality.
The rest of the team were slouching on benches at the bottom of the Quidditch stands, chatting casually. Hope stared at the arena around her, the enormity of what was happening slowly beginning to sink in. The wind blew her bright hair in front of her face, and she impatiently tugged it away again. The sky looked vast from here, the hoops glistened with promise and house colours cheered along the empty stands.
"Potter?"
Hope whipped round to see a burly seventh year boy holding a broom out for her.
"Snape said yours hasn't arrived yet from home, but this one isn't bad. It's decent enough to put you through your paces on, at least. What are you on normally?"
"A Silver Lightning 511," she said in a meek voice that sounded little like her own.
He whistled. "Good broom, that one. Snape reckons you're a decent little flyer. You must be; it's not like him to break the rules for anyone."
Hope began to flush. The others were all looking at her with a good deal of curiosity, and they were all so much bigger than she was. Would she ever manage to hold her own on the Quidditch pitch at school level?
"I'm Magus Stebbins, Slytherin Captain," the boy explained, walking with Hope across the pitch towards the centre. "I'm one of the Beaters on the team. What are you like at playing Seeker? I only ask because Snape's threatening to pull Quimby over there off the team because his love life is making him get behind with his O.W.L.s work. It's not a good sign if that's happening already, so if you can slot into his position, I'll love you forever!"
"I could give it a go," Hope said, grinning with relief.
"You'll be great! I saw your dad playing last season, and if you can do a fraction of what he can, we'll trounce the other houses without breaking into a sweat."
Hope watched as the other members of the Quidditch team kicked off and soared effortlessly into the air. They moved into formation and began soaring through a warm-up routine, circling the posts and swooping across the central line, one after the other. Stebbins glanced at his team and mounted his own broom.
"Let's get up there."
Hope needed no further encouragement, and kicked off from the ground at once. The broom wasn't as responsive as her real one, but she didn't care; she was flying again! Even if Snape had given her fifty detentions on the spot, it couldn't have wiped the smile off her face. Stebbins beckoned to her to follow him, so she leaned forward and the broom shot off towards the goal posts, looping them easily and following into a fairly gentle dive. He checked back over his shoulder and she grinned widely at him, shaking her hair back out of her eyes.
"You'll have to do something about that lot!" he yelled about the torrent of russet red whirling behind her head. "Too easy a target for the other side's Beaters. Stops you seeing as well. Keep up!"
She urged her broom faster, gripping it tightly and loving the sting of the air against her face more than ever. It seemed like she'd been bound to earth for eternity. A sharper rise then a turn and an unexpected plummet to earth. She twisted down and down, the wind now tearing at her face and clothing as the ground dizzyingly surged towards her. She caught up and levelled with Stebbins before pulling up short of the turf and hovering a moment to catch her breath.
"Bloody good," he said. "Didn't think you'd have the nerve for that one. Give it a go with the Snitch before it gets too dark."
With that, he rummaged in his inside pocket and with a little whirring and zipping noise, the little golden ball zoomed off out of sight. Hope grinned happily and swerved off, her eyes and ears hunting for the tiniest of clues to the Snitch's whereabouts. She was aware of Stebbins cursing at the Chasers for their lack of precision, of them performing the manoeuvres time and time again until he was satisfied, yet she saw nothing. Her senses strained for that glimmer of devilish gold, and it was only when ducking from a Bludger that the other Beater, Dryadne Littleton, had accidentally sent hurtling in her direction that she finally saw it.
Amid a torrent of curses from Stebbins, Hope shot forwards, twisting tightly to her left and then straight down following the nervous twitching of the Snitch. It doubled back on itself, and Hope pulled out of a dive harder than she'd ever done before. The broom was shaking in her grasp as she forced it round, willing it to move.
"Come on!" She heard the expectant roar behind her as Stebbins had clearly spotted what was going on.
She looped back, rolling under the shaft of her broom and then straightening up to dart like an arrow, straight through the rest of the team towards the goal hoops. The Snitch fluttered one way, then zipped in the opposite direction as quickly as it could. Hope stretched out her arm and leaned into a circular spin. Closer and closer, she circled above the nervous ball. It jerked a little and Hope plunged straight downwards, arm outstretched, adrenaline throbbing through every inch of her body as she palmed the tiny little ball, clamping her fingers tightly around its struggling form to prevent its escape.
Whoops of appreciation came from the players who watched from below, and Hope shakily pulled herself straight and floated back down to earth.
"Quimby'd better watch out," Dryadne Littleton called over. "He'd never have caught that in a month of Sundays. Fancy retiring now, dear heart?"
Quimby winked at Hope and threw the Quaffle square at his girlfriend's chest. "I've better luck with the girls than the Snitch, Dryadne. You should know that!"
Stebbins was grinning like he'd won a thousand Galleons in The Daily Prophet Prize Draw. "Not bad for a kid," he teased and ruffled her hair. "You never know, we might even substitute you on for part of the first match. As long as Snape gets that no first year rule waived, I've a good feeling about this season!"
Hope collapsed back on the grass feeling the happiest she had yet at Hogwarts. How her father had fixed this with Snape, she had no idea, but she owed him one. As soon as she'd finished teaching Belford, she was going to go straight up to the Owlery to send him a thank you note and a long description of the training session.
The others slowly began trooping back to the castle at the end of training and Hope looked around her for Belford. She ducked behind the broom sheds but found the place entirely deserted but for a lone figure somewhere further along the stands.
Hope waved madly and raced in the direction of the observer. She hoped Belford had seen the practice and wouldn't be as nervous about flying as he'd been earlier. It wasn't fair for the other Slytherins to taunt him and if Hope could do anything about it, he'd be flying like an expert before the first of their proper lessons.
As she neared the figure, she slowed down and jogged to a halt. It wasn't Belford at all, but a slender girl of about her own age with a long pigtail hanging down her back; the girl who shared her dormitory. She stood up, with a ramrod-straight back and stared at Hope in the unfriendliest of manners.
"What?" Hope demanded. "What have I done?"
The girl sniffed and an expression of disgust and loathing twisted her features. Hope couldn't understand it. She'd barely spoken to the girl and yet she was hated by her. It didn't make sense.
"Very clever, Hope Potter," the girl said in a dangerously cold monotone. "You have it all now: fame, wealth, Quidditch success, the world at your feet."
"I don't!" Hope objected. "I wouldn't want all that anyway. I was only flying, that's all!"
The girl smiled - a dry, wry smile with no warmth behind it. Hope felt herself shiver.
"The gods amongst us can fly, yet the rest of us are earthbound; isn't that the way you've always been regarded? You're the valiant protector of the wizarding world. You're our saviour."
Hope stared at her, having no comprehension of what the girl was driving at. "I'm nobody's saviour," she said at last. "Whatever happened when I was a baby wasn't me at all. I know Dumbledore used my magic to bring down Voldemort, but he was controlling it, not me. If anyone deserves the respect and admiration, it's him."
The girl looked as if she might be sick with disgust. "Hope Potter, the shining beacon of all that is good. She Who Can Do No Wrong."
Hope shook her head wildly. "That's not me. I do stuff wrong all the time. Ask Snape, if you don't believe me. I've been in detention since I got here!"
"Detention?" the girl sneered quietly. "Such a punishment!"
The sarcasm rankled deeply with Hope and she clambered across the seating to face the girl directly.
"What is your problem?" Hope demanded. "What did I ever do to you?"
"To me? Why should the glorious Hope Potter care?"
Hope felt like throwing something hard at the irritating girl, but there was nothing nearby. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep her temper.
"I'll try not to care if you flaming tell me what's wrong."
The girl gave a short bark of a laugh, like a seal.
"You don't have a clue, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You, Hope Potter, are the single reason why my life is ruined. You've caused so much heartache and ripped families apart. What gives you the right to have done that? What makes you the god to decide our destinies?"
Hope staggered backwards, gazing with horror at the girl. She didn't understand at all. The girl's face was white and pinched, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the girl said in a steely-calm voice. "My name is Rachel MacNair. Because of you, my father has been in Azkaban for the last ten years of my life."
A Fresh Start
"What's that you've got there, Belford?"
Hope craned her neck to try and see further down the table. Parkinson was openly sneering at a parcel her classmate had just opened at the breakfast table.
"Nothing," he said quickly and tried to bundle everything back together again and stuff it into his pocket before Parkinson had a chance to pry further.
"It doesn't look like nothing to me," she said in a way that made Hope's blood begin to boil. Parkinson snatched at the parcel and Matthew Belford glared back at her, even though he was turning redder by the minute.
"Why don't you leave him alone?" Hope snapped.
"Oooh, little Potter's got herself a boyfriend, has she?" Parkinson smirked. "No class and no taste, Belford. You don't have much going for you, do you?"
Belford's face so glowed fiercely at this that it blended with the Gryffindor banner hanging behind him on the furthest side of the Great Hall.
"Better that than no manners!"
"As if you'd know," the raven-haired girl sneered. "Potters are all the same. They always act as if the world owes them everything, and expect everyone to drop down and worship them. It's not going to work with me. I can see right through you!"
Cora dolloped some marmalade on her toast and glanced acerbically at Priscilla Parkinson. "If you're feeling like you're not good enough, I can't see what Hope can do about that. It's hardly Matthew's fault that he's got a parcel when your family have forgotten to send you one."
"At least I've got a family to send me things," Parkinson retorted.
Hope's head spun quickly, ready to leap to the defence of her friend. Her fists were clenched at her sides. How dare she say something like that?
"Except they haven't sent you anything, have they?" Cora smiled sweetly at the other girl and took a large bite out of her toast. Parkinson tossed her head and gave a disgruntled snort of disgust. She sat awkwardly, with her back half-turned to the other three and began chatting to some older Slytherins on her other side.
"Wonder where her poodle is today?" Cora mouthed, jerking her head towards Parkinson. Hope shook her head and shrugged. There was no sign of Rose Lambert along the Slytherin table, not even beside the fifth member of their dormitory who was sitting glumly with a solitary cup of coffee. It was all very strange.
"ROBERT MILES, HOW DARE YOU BE SUCH A DISGRACE TO THIS FAMILY?" Fierce shrieks rang from the other side of the hall, and the giggling Slytherin students craned their necks and giggled to see who had received the Howler. There were jeering and cat-calls. Hope didn't dare look. She knew the voice all too well, and sunk further down into her seat. "WE SEND YOU TO HOGWARTS AND WHAT DO YOU DO? BREAKING RULES AND BEING UP TO NO GOOD AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY AND NIGHT. I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOUNG MAN, IF WE GET ONE MORE OWL TELLING US YOU'RE MISBEHAVING I'LL COME RIGHT UP TO THAT SCHOOL MYSELF AND SORT YOU OUT. BELIEVE ME, I WILL..."
Hope caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye and couldn't stand it any more. She swivelled her legs from under the bench and jumped to her feet.
"Back in a bit," she muttered and hurried from the hall.
She stood in the foyer, gulping in air like she'd never been allowed to breathe before. Her heart was racing. She'd never asked her dad if Robert had had an owl home about being out of bounds, but she should have suspected that Snape would be malicious like that. Robert's parents had always been strict with him, and she'd pulled him into more trouble than anyone could have guessed over the years. Robert had greeted the various punishments meted out to him with a resigned grin, claiming it to have been 'worth it', but suddenly Hope wasn't so sure it would be like that any more. She could only imagine the humiliation Robert must be feeling because of her own stupidity.
Before she could chastise herself further, the door swung open amidst an undisguised roar of laughter and Robert closed it quickly behind him, blotting out the worst of the noise. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but he held himself steady. Not even turning to look at Hope, he began to trudge up the marble staircase, his shoulders bowed and an expression of utter dejection on his face. Hope called after him, but his head just sank lower and he kept climbing.
"Please Robert!" she called, springing up the flight of stairs as quickly as she could. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Wait!"
She caught up with him and pulled on the sleeve of his robes. He stopped and slowly turned to face her. His blue eyes showed hurt and confusion, and Hope could understand why. She'd have reacted far worse if Robert had landed her in trouble and stood by doing nothing to help her. That wasn't what their friendship was about.
"I'm a git," she said.
The corners of Robert's mouth quirked into the smallest of smiles, but he said nothing.
"I'm the gittiest git in gitdom, and I'm surprised you've not punched me or something. I deserve it."
"I did think about it," Robert admitted honestly, "but that probably would have got us both another detention and I'm in enough trouble already. Just let it go, Hope. I'll be all right, even if Mum does want to kill me right now."
"No change there, then," Hope tried to joke, but it fell flat. Robert's eyes sank to the floor again and he shifted uncertainly from one foot to another.
"I told Snape it was my fault."
Robert's head lifted quickly, confusion knitting his eyebrows closely together.
"I can't believe he owled your parents," Hope shook her head in bewilderment. "I told him I was there, said it was my idea and everything. But..."
"It's because he didn't see you," Robert sighed.
Hope's insides twisted. She understood now what had hurt Robert more than anything. It wasn't the detention, or the Howler, or even his parents' disappointment in him. It was the fact she had failed to stand by him and face the punishment together.
"I couldn't," she whispered. "I don't blame you for hating me, but I couldn't."
Robert's perplexed expression returned in full force. "What are you talking about?"
"Cora was hiding with me. She was begging me not to let her get caught because her mum would never forgive her. If I'd stood up in the alcove and let Snape see me, and I was trying to, I'd have got her caught as well. I saw he'd got you and I'd have been there in a second, but it would have got Cora into bother and wouldn't have helped you get out of it. I went to see Snape before breakfast to tell him it was me. I told him it wasn't your fault for being out of bounds. I'm so stupid."
"Yeah, you are." Hope's heart sank for a second until she caught Robert's eye twinkling at her.
"Not as stupid as you."
"Want to bet?"
She giggled and pushed him away from her. He shoved back and she lost her balance and grabbed at his arm. The two of them toppled down a few steps and fell onto the half-landing with a thump in a tangle of limbs and robes. Both were helpless with laughter. A nearby portrait coughed and shook his venerable head disapprovingly at the pair of them.
"Sorry," she repeated. "If I'm ever out of bounds again, I promise I'll not drag you into it."
"You're kidding, right?" Robert sounded incredulous. "After everything we've been through together, you'd seriously think of not taking me along?"
She looked carefully at him. This was Robert; she'd known him virtually all of her life. He knew what she was thinking before she did half of the time. They'd grown up falling off brooms together and making all the adults around them despair at their antics and the state of their clothes afterwards. Being without him was like not having an arm or a leg.
"Friends?"
Robert laughed and hugged her quickly. "I'd not have it any other way."
The doors to the Great Hall swung open once more, and Hope and Robert quickly scrambled to their feet, standing casually apart as if they'd been there all along. A tide of Ravenclaws surged up the stairs, and there was a giggled murmur about the 'Howler boy' on the way past. Robert shot a furtive glance at Hope, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.
"Oh, you've got it coming, Potter. Just you wait!"
"Got to catch me first!" Hope shrieked and flew back down the stairs at breakneck speed, with Robert in hot pursuit.
They bumped and jostled their way through the ever-increasing numbers of students leaving breakfast and heading towards their early morning classes, finally collapsing in a breathless state against the dungeon wall outside Snape's classroom. The shared grin quickly evaporated as the classroom door slid open, and the distinctive shape of the Potions Master filled the void.
Hope found that the day passed far more quickly now that she was actually trying to do well in her lessons. Her quill scribbled and scraped across the parchment in her haste to get the notes down and catch up on what she'd missed through her own inattention the previous week. Snape nodded at her as she left his room, showing a faint sense of approval, yet Professor Sprout regarded her warily throughout Herbology. With the promise of Quidditch at stake, Hope was determined to show she'd changed, even to the point of ignoring Parkinson's whispered taunts.
She dug ferociously in the potting compost, pleased to see that there had been definite growth in her fungi after last week's lesson. It hadn't been as good as Matthew's toadstool, but it wasn't so shabby all the same.
"Rose Lambert's still not here," Cora muttered when Professor Sprout's back was turned. "Wonder what's happened..." Belford glanced swiftly up at them and his eyes scanned the room with interest. He winked at Cora and his stool scraped backwards over the tiled flooring.
"Hey, Flint! Can I borrow your watering can?"
Professor Sprout's head turned momentarily, and Belford strode brazenly across the classroom to collect the equipment from a thickset boy whose dark eyebrows resembled very furry caterpillars. Hope saw the heads from the table lean together and an urgent conversation took place. By the time Professor Sprout had turned round again, Belford was back in his place, watering his own project.
"She's in the hospital wing," he said in an undertone. "The others don't know what's wrong with her, but apparently she turned up there in the middle of the night and Pomfrey hasn't let her have any visitors yet. Didn't you hear anything happening in the dormitory?"
Hope and Cora both shook their heads. His eyes locked momentarily with Hope's, as he sank back into his seat, missing it completely and disappearing from site with an audible thump and groan from the floor. The noise made their teacher bear down upon them, so any further discussion of the matter was abruptly curtailed.
***
There were gasps of admiration in the common room when the news got out, and some envious questions from Belford's friends. Belford himself, hadn't quite understood the enormity of the situation.
"Quidditch?" he asked. "Sounds like a cross between a coin and a hole in the road."
"It's absolutely the best feeling in the world," Hope enthused. "Out there and flying so fast, pitting your wits against the other players and..."
"There's the frantic battle for the Quaffle!" Flint joined in with equal passion. "All the dodging and shoving to try and score."
"My dad's got season tickets to watch Puddlemere United," another boy said.
"They're bottom of the league now," someone else scoffed. "Their Keeper would let the Knight Bus through the hoops."
"That's not true!"
The conversation escalated madly in terms of fervour and noise. Hope had just laughed and turned back round to where Cora was still sitting, and found her looking rather surprised.
"You're Muggleborn?" Cora asked, so that only the three of them could hear.
Belford's lips tightened and he nodded silently.
"Really?" Hope's smile brightened, but Matthew avoided her gaze. "Aunt Hermione's family are dentists, but they're the only Muggles I know. That's really cool!"
Cora shook her head slowly.
"Haven't you learnt yet? It's wrong to be anything other than from a perfect pureblood family. Maybe other houses are different, but Slytherin's always been the same. You fit the ideal or you're out."
"But that's absolute... bollocks!" she finished up, remembering a particularly useful word from Uncle Ron. "As if being pureblood makes you a good person. Look at Parkinson: she's about fifty-fifth generation pureblood and hasn't a nice bone in her body. No one cares. Or no one worth worrying about anyway."
"I wish," Matthew said fervently, and he picked at a little fraying along the edge of the rug. "We're getting on better now in the dormitory, but I'm still an outsider. My mother doesn't have lunch with Flint's, my dad doesn't drop in on the Minister for Magic for a drink and a chat about whatever the magical equivalent of golf is. I don't wear the right clothes or even know which way round to hold a broom. I'll be a complete laughing stock when we get to those flying lessons on Saturday."
Hope tugged at her thumbnail with her teeth. He was probably right. Most of the Slytherins were particularly arrogant about their abilities, so maybe what they had to do was show them how wrong their estimations of someone could be.
"I'll teach you to fly before the lessons start," she said abruptly. "Seriously," she added as Belford gaped at her. "I've been flying more or less since I could walk. I'll get Uncle Remus to teach me some cushioning spells as well, just in case you fall off." Matthew blanched, and Hope giggled. "It's easy. Really it is!"
"If... if you say so."
So the deal was struck. Each night after Quidditch practise, Belford would sneak out and wait for Hope beside the broom sheds. They'd work on his flying for half an hour and then Cora would help them to catch up with the remainder of their homework. It seemed to be a plan with no drawbacks.
The balmy autumn air was cooling as Hope stepped out onto the lawns in front of the castle. The sun glowed golden in the softening sky, and for once, she stopped still and smiled. This was Hogwarts. This was her world. Cries of a mandrake shattered the stillness of the air, and the soft hooting of a few owls replied. Anticipation built in her chest until she could barely keep from dancing. She... Hope Potter... was going to Quidditch training with the Slytherin team for the very first time!
She skipped down the lawns, her feet hurrying faster and faster until she was running, desperate to get to the Quidditch pitch. She'd dreamed of this all her life; admittedly the robes had been a very different colour, but it was about to become reality.
The rest of the team were slouching on benches at the bottom of the Quidditch stands, chatting casually. Hope stared at the arena around her, the enormity of what was happening slowly beginning to sink in. The wind blew her bright hair in front of her face, and she impatiently tugged it away again. The sky looked vast from here, the hoops glistened with promise and house colours cheered along the empty stands.
"Potter?"
Hope whipped round to see a burly seventh year boy holding a broom out for her.
"Snape said yours hasn't arrived yet from home, but this one isn't bad. It's decent enough to put you through your paces on, at least. What are you on normally?"
"A Silver Lightning 511," she said in a meek voice that sounded little like her own.
He whistled. "Good broom, that one. Snape reckons you're a decent little flyer. You must be; it's not like him to break the rules for anyone."
Hope began to flush. The others were all looking at her with a good deal of curiosity, and they were all so much bigger than she was. Would she ever manage to hold her own on the Quidditch pitch at school level?
"I'm Magus Stebbins, Slytherin Captain," the boy explained, walking with Hope across the pitch towards the centre. "I'm one of the Beaters on the team. What are you like at playing Seeker? I only ask because Snape's threatening to pull Quimby over there off the team because his love life is making him get behind with his O.W.L.s work. It's not a good sign if that's happening already, so if you can slot into his position, I'll love you forever!"
"I could give it a go," Hope said, grinning with relief.
"You'll be great! I saw your dad playing last season, and if you can do a fraction of what he can, we'll trounce the other houses without breaking into a sweat."
Hope watched as the other members of the Quidditch team kicked off and soared effortlessly into the air. They moved into formation and began soaring through a warm-up routine, circling the posts and swooping across the central line, one after the other. Stebbins glanced at his team and mounted his own broom.
"Let's get up there."
Hope needed no further encouragement, and kicked off from the ground at once. The broom wasn't as responsive as her real one, but she didn't care; she was flying again! Even if Snape had given her fifty detentions on the spot, it couldn't have wiped the smile off her face. Stebbins beckoned to her to follow him, so she leaned forward and the broom shot off towards the goal posts, looping them easily and following into a fairly gentle dive. He checked back over his shoulder and she grinned widely at him, shaking her hair back out of her eyes.
"You'll have to do something about that lot!" he yelled about the torrent of russet red whirling behind her head. "Too easy a target for the other side's Beaters. Stops you seeing as well. Keep up!"
She urged her broom faster, gripping it tightly and loving the sting of the air against her face more than ever. It seemed like she'd been bound to earth for eternity. A sharper rise then a turn and an unexpected plummet to earth. She twisted down and down, the wind now tearing at her face and clothing as the ground dizzyingly surged towards her. She caught up and levelled with Stebbins before pulling up short of the turf and hovering a moment to catch her breath.
"Bloody good," he said. "Didn't think you'd have the nerve for that one. Give it a go with the Snitch before it gets too dark."
With that, he rummaged in his inside pocket and with a little whirring and zipping noise, the little golden ball zoomed off out of sight. Hope grinned happily and swerved off, her eyes and ears hunting for the tiniest of clues to the Snitch's whereabouts. She was aware of Stebbins cursing at the Chasers for their lack of precision, of them performing the manoeuvres time and time again until he was satisfied, yet she saw nothing. Her senses strained for that glimmer of devilish gold, and it was only when ducking from a Bludger that the other Beater, Dryadne Littleton, had accidentally sent hurtling in her direction that she finally saw it.
Amid a torrent of curses from Stebbins, Hope shot forwards, twisting tightly to her left and then straight down following the nervous twitching of the Snitch. It doubled back on itself, and Hope pulled out of a dive harder than she'd ever done before. The broom was shaking in her grasp as she forced it round, willing it to move.
"Come on!" She heard the expectant roar behind her as Stebbins had clearly spotted what was going on.
She looped back, rolling under the shaft of her broom and then straightening up to dart like an arrow, straight through the rest of the team towards the goal hoops. The Snitch fluttered one way, then zipped in the opposite direction as quickly as it could. Hope stretched out her arm and leaned into a circular spin. Closer and closer, she circled above the nervous ball. It jerked a little and Hope plunged straight downwards, arm outstretched, adrenaline throbbing through every inch of her body as she palmed the tiny little ball, clamping her fingers tightly around its struggling form to prevent its escape.
Whoops of appreciation came from the players who watched from below, and Hope shakily pulled herself straight and floated back down to earth.
"Quimby'd better watch out," Dryadne Littleton called over. "He'd never have caught that in a month of Sundays. Fancy retiring now, dear heart?"
Quimby winked at Hope and threw the Quaffle square at his girlfriend's chest. "I've better luck with the girls than the Snitch, Dryadne. You should know that!"
Stebbins was grinning like he'd won a thousand Galleons in The Daily Prophet Prize Draw. "Not bad for a kid," he teased and ruffled her hair. "You never know, we might even substitute you on for part of the first match. As long as Snape gets that no first year rule waived, I've a good feeling about this season!"
Hope collapsed back on the grass feeling the happiest she had yet at Hogwarts. How her father had fixed this with Snape, she had no idea, but she owed him one. As soon as she'd finished teaching Belford, she was going to go straight up to the Owlery to send him a thank you note and a long description of the training session.
The others slowly began trooping back to the castle at the end of training and Hope looked around her for Belford. She ducked behind the broom sheds but found the place entirely deserted but for a lone figure somewhere further along the stands.
Hope waved madly and raced in the direction of the observer. She hoped Belford had seen the practice and wouldn't be as nervous about flying as he'd been earlier. It wasn't fair for the other Slytherins to taunt him and if Hope could do anything about it, he'd be flying like an expert before the first of their proper lessons.
As she neared the figure, she slowed down and jogged to a halt. It wasn't Belford at all, but a slender girl of about her own age with a long pigtail hanging down her back; the girl who shared her dormitory. She stood up, with a ramrod-straight back and stared at Hope in the unfriendliest of manners.
"What?" Hope demanded. "What have I done?"
The girl sniffed and an expression of disgust and loathing twisted her features. Hope couldn't understand it. She'd barely spoken to the girl and yet she was hated by her. It didn't make sense.
"Very clever, Hope Potter," the girl said in a dangerously cold monotone. "You have it all now: fame, wealth, Quidditch success, the world at your feet."
"I don't!" Hope objected. "I wouldn't want all that anyway. I was only flying, that's all!"
The girl smiled - a dry, wry smile with no warmth behind it. Hope felt herself shiver.
"The gods amongst us can fly, yet the rest of us are earthbound; isn't that the way you've always been regarded? You're the valiant protector of the wizarding world. You're our saviour."
Hope stared at her, having no comprehension of what the girl was driving at. "I'm nobody's saviour," she said at last. "Whatever happened when I was a baby wasn't me at all. I know Dumbledore used my magic to bring down Voldemort, but he was controlling it, not me. If anyone deserves the respect and admiration, it's him."
The girl looked as if she might be sick with disgust. "Hope Potter, the shining beacon of all that is good. She Who Can Do No Wrong."
Hope shook her head wildly. "That's not me. I do stuff wrong all the time. Ask Snape, if you don't believe me. I've been in detention since I got here!"
"Detention?" the girl sneered quietly. "Such a punishment!"
The sarcasm rankled deeply with Hope and she clambered across the seating to face the girl directly.
"What is your problem?" Hope demanded. "What did I ever do to you?"
"To me? Why should the glorious Hope Potter care?"
Hope felt like throwing something hard at the irritating girl, but there was nothing nearby. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep her temper.
"I'll try not to care if you flaming tell me what's wrong."
The girl gave a short bark of a laugh, like a seal.
"You don't have a clue, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You, Hope Potter, are the single reason why my life is ruined. You've caused so much heartache and ripped families apart. What gives you the right to have done that? What makes you the god to decide our destinies?"
Hope staggered backwards, gazing with horror at the girl. She didn't understand at all. The girl's face was white and pinched, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the girl said in a steely-calm voice. "My name is Rachel MacNair. Because of you, my father has been in Azkaban for the last ten years of my life."