Chapter 1: I'll Find You

Freya Hawkins did her best to stay out of mischief. Which often proved more than a challenge than many would think. It seemed that in both her home life and school life, she was never able to step away from it. Not that she abhorred mischief—no, not at all. It was fun to speculate from a distance. And that is where her problem arose from; she always somehow was dragged into it against her will.

With a red trunk in hand that had her name engraved on a golden plate, Freya chased a much shorter figure through the crowd of Platform 9 ¾. "Eugene," she called. "Eugene!" Instead of stopping and waiting for her as the intone of her voice commanded, her younger brother sped up, his laughter like a bread trail for her to follow, weaving through legs and arms. A sensible part of her suggested that she potentially overreacted to her brother's disappearing form. He was in second year, after all. If she didn't chase him, he would likely stop after realising. But stopping meant that she wouldn't see the back of his head and then what would he get up to? She could barely trust him to get on the train in time.

A figure emerging from the thicket of the crowd abruptly ended her chase. A gasp erupted from her at the same time as a painful thud resonated through her skull. "Bloody hell!" With the momentum on her side, the figure in front of her absorbed the force of the impact, tumbling backwards. She nearly went head over heels atop of him. She could tell it was a him by the low, guttural cry. Though she wasn't one to judge if she was proved wrong.

The pair sprawled across the platform, one of the trunks unlatching and spewing an assortment of books and clothes. People swerved from the sight of impact, avoiding a book spinning across the cement.

"Hawkins?"

Freya pressed her hands into the ground and pushed herself off the body. At the sight of who lay underneath her, her head dropped with relief. "Oh, Potter." She gave a breathless laugh and rolled off him. "It's just you."

'Just you' Potter was a member of not only her Hogwarts House but a Gryffindor in the same year. They had spent some quality time in close quarters. Running him over was probably a fortune rather than it being somebody else. He had a head of messy, short black hair and squared frames upon his nose that ever so slightly sloped inwards. It was no surprise to see him in a long shirt and grey vest over top.

"Just me?" James Potter spluttered. He cradled his side, feigning agony. "I think you broke a rib."

"Oh, James, do get off the floor dear."

Freya's head snapped upwards, finding two elderly forms standing near them. She tore to her feet, brushing off her pants and hands. With a strained throat, she greeted, "Mrs and Mr Potter. It's nice to see you again."

Euphemia Potter raised her brows mirthfully. "Freya. I think I saw your brother just run past."

Freya took a long breath and nodded aimlessly. "Yes, hence my chase." She glanced down to James who was still in the process of picking himself off the floor. "Sorry 'bout that."

The boy picked his frames off his nose and checked over the glass. They were fine. They both looked towards the trunks. At least it was hers that went flying open. "Yep," he coughed. "No worries. Run into me any day you like."

Freya smiled despite his derisive tone. Another boy with similarly dark hair, but strands that sported around his neck rather than a short mess, sprang out of nowhere. "Another girl falling at Jamey's feet?"

Sirius Black was a masterpiece… According to the many not so subtle whispers girls made in the halls. They clearly hadn't seen him with snot running down his nose because he accidentally set off a bomb from Zonko's before he could plant it. Freya had tried to warn him and had to spend an entire afternoon dealing with him.

His hair swept just above the collar of his dark jacket. He had a thin face, but a strong jawline and black eyes that structured a defined face altogether.

"Ah, Hawkins," he bellowed towards her, then pursed his lips downwards to his friend. "I won't judge your taste."

Freya cocked her head. "I'm not sure you even have any, Black." She brushed past his shoulder as his eyes ventured to the back of his head and knelt at her trunk. It was a mess, but it wasn't exactly not a mess before it split open in any case. Two forms trailed behind and tucked away the books that had splayed further out. "You don't have to help."

"My mother is watching," Potter croaked out, glancing over his shoulder. He smiled under a duck of his head which told her he didn't mind. So, she didn't protest. Soon enough, her trunk was somewhat neatly packed and latched. Thank Merlin that their shared owl was in a cage that Eugene carried. "Not planning on doing this all year, are you?"

"Godric no," Freya laughed. "I have made extensive plans to stay away from you. They're even written in my journal."

Black smirked. "Remember when we burnt off her eyebrows in potions?"

James tipped his head, a mirthful huff rocking his shoulders. "Third year, wasn't it? I think I put in too much crushed fluxweed. I do feel bad for the whole Black Lake thing though."

"Really? I thought it was funny."

It was not. She had been standing with Lily on a stone the shore of the Black Lake. It was a week after Christmas and the grounds were snowed but the lake hadn't yet frozen over completely. It was a beautiful sight that she had marvelled from the Gryffindor Tower and had to see up closer. James Potter and Sirius Black had followed. Freya still wasn't entirely sure what happened, only that Potter was likely attempting to show off and it ended up with her falling into the lake. With drenched clothes, and temperatures below freezing, Potter had the guts to feel bad and took her to the hospital wing after her lips turned blue. He brought her a packet of droobles to make up for it which he sheepishly placed at her bedside without a word. Freya still laughed to that day at his fright finding her awake. He darted out of the wing like she would hex him at any moment.

"Thank you," she gushed out, launching to her feet. "I've got to find Eugene before he falls onto the tracks."

Black threw his arms out with a grin. "Hey, we're doing the same thing but with Peter."

"You're still missing one," she pointed out.

"Remus is already on the train," answered Potter, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Freya made a noise of understanding and smiled. "He's a prefect this year, did you hear?"

"No," she said with a tone of interest. "How's that going to work out for you?"

It was no secret that the four Gryffindor boys were the epitome of mischief. Exactly what she tried to keep her distance from. With Remus Lupin, often the devious mastermind behind many of their doings, a prefect would put a spanner in the works as muggles would say.

"Means we'll get away with more," said Sirius as though it was clearly obvious.

"Duh," she muttered. "Can't imagine anything else. I'll leave you to it." Hooking her hand around the handle of her trunk, Freya waved blindly over her shoulder. "Bye Mr and Mrs Potter!" She heard something from one of the boys but the whistling of the train muted everything else. Freya finally found her younger brother attempting to haul his trunk into the storage carriage. It balanced overheard, his thin frame wobbling underneath. Porridge (she did not name him) hooted from his cage next to his feet. "Eugene Hawkins!"

"Yes—" He wobbled some more— "Freya?"

Freya plucked the trunk from his hands, if only to save their owl. He dropped his arms with a mighty sigh. "You made me crash into Potter."

Eugene gathered the owl cage. "I didn't make you do anything. You chased after me and we weren't playing tag."

Freya's nose flared. Her brother was something. A lively lad, also in Gryffindor, with a particular inclination to independence. She just wishes that he understood that wasn't always entirely possible. "I told you not to run and when Father isn't around—"

"You're in charge," he mumbled. He blew a tuft of brown hair from his eyebrow. "I know."

Freya shadowed his shoulder as he strode towards the carriage where the pets were being stored for the journey. "If you know, then listen to me."

"I was perfectly fine." He smiled at Porridge, wiggling his finger through the cage. "You're just worrying too much." He told her that too much. Her lanky armed brother swung around with a grin. "I'm fine. You're fine. Go find your friends."

He swerved around her back onto the main platform, leaving Freya with her jaw unlocked. By the time she had the sense to turn around, he had disappeared again. She darted back to the storage compartment where her trunk lay forgotten and heaved it onto the masses. "Little brat," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm sure if trunks could talk, it would be offended."

"Would wood have feelings? Or would it just be… Wooden?"

Freya rested her head between her still raised arms. "My brother," she said, "not my trunk."

"Ah," Fabian sang. "That does make more sense. And makes you saner. I was worried you thought your trunk might be sentient."

"Though I'm sure her brother would be offended if he heard too. You do know he's not here, right?"

Freya dropped her arms and swung around to meet the red-headed twins. "Yes, very much aware. Because when is he ever in my sights?" The twins shrugged in sync. "Good holidays?"

"Pleasant enough."

Freya hung around long enough to share a few quick stories of their summer adventures until the train whistled once more as a final warning. With no one to wave to on the platform, she quickly found her way onto the usual carriage towards the front of the train and meandered down the aisle. Each door was like looking into the window of different lives, each with its own distinctive narrative. And Freya's narrative had a group of Gryffindor girls.

"No need for fake smiles any more girls," Freya announced, theatrically opening the door. "Your favourite is here." A resounding rise of disagreement met her that had her raising her hands. "I'll pretend you're teasing me."

"For the most part," said Lily Evans. Freya sat down next to the auburn-haired girl. She and Marlene were the ones belonging to the same year and the other two, Dorcas and Mary, a year above. Marlene rambled on in a long contention against both Lily and Freya, her arguments revolving around how she was very much the favourite.

Mary pinched her lips. "Freya's presents always come with sweets."

Marlene squinted. "I can start doing that."

"Don't you dare!" Freya bellowed. "It's my thing."

Marlene kicked her feet up against the opposite seat. "I'll do one better than. Every present will come with money."

Freya's eyes swelled shut, laugh bubbling from the depth of her chest as the girls considered her argument. With a final whistle, the train began to roll out of the station. The other girls leant towards the window, waving and searching for their guardians. Ironically enough, Freya was more so heading towards hers on the far end of the journey. Her little cottage styled home sat in the Scottish back-land in a muggle town. It always seemed a bit of a nuisance coming all the way from Scotland, just to board a train in London to head back to Scotland but over the years, now coming into her fifth, she found the ride a vital part of the Hogwarts experience. And the Trolly Lady came around.

When she came around this time, Freya went last from her compartment. She spent some extra time and money picking out extra things. "Could I have those in a bag, please?" The Trolly Lady dutifully did as requested and took her handful of knuts and sickles.

"Blimey," Dorcas said. "You get all that for yourself or are you sharing with us?"

Freya rolled her eyes. It was hardly a lot, but twice as much as she would usually get. Besides, her father gave her a bit of extra spending since the shop had been doing so well. "I owe someone."

With the brown paper bag scrunched under her furled fingers, Freya hunted down the compartment she needed before the Trolly could reach him. Along the way, Sirius was also wandering down the aisle. "Hawkins. Don't run into me, will you."

"Why are people thinking I planned it?" She held up the paper bag. "Besides, I'm already on my way to make up for the last one."

He leant in close to the bag, trying to peek in. "What did you get him?" he asked, sounding frankly childish.

"Just some treats from the Trolly. Where's your compartment?"

"I change my mind," he said, ignoring her question. "You can trip me up if I get some too."

"You're filthy rich, Black. I'm not buying you shit."

"So is James!"

"And I tackled him to the bloody ground. In front of his parents! Where's your carriage?" Sirius pointed off in the direction he came, mumbling something about leading her to it. As he walked past her, his arms flailed in the air, and he soared towards the ground. Freya blinked at the sound of the impact against the carpet. "I bet that hurt."

"I tripped over your foot!"

Freya chuckled and walked over him in the direction he was going. "Please," she muttered and continued her hunt to find the other part of his gang. When she did, their heads were burrowed together, in the midst of a no doubt thorough conversation. She knocked on the door and slid it open.

"Freya," Remus greeted kindly. "Not like you to come find us. Usually the other way around."

Freya hummed in agreement and shuffled into the compartment. "I'm already breaking rule one in my journal." Remus didn't seem surprised that she had made such a thing. "How's your rib, Potter?"

James clutched at his side with furrowed brows. "Still broken."

She held up the brown package. "Will liquorice wands and—" she peered into the packet— "choco balls help?"

His face lightened. "Very much so." Freya grinned and tossed the packet across the compartment. "Thank you," he attempted to say through a full mouth and half-chewed chocolate. He peered into the package once he was finished but had a second thought and held it out to her. Freya smiled and shook her head, so he offered it to Remus and Peter who both each took a liquorice wand.

"Black will probably have a bloody nose when he returns but don't give him any sympathies. He did it to himself."

Remus's neck retracted. "What in Merlin's name did he do? Punch himself?"

"He punched the floor with his face," Freya corrected in a pensive tone. "In order to guilt-trip me into also buying him sweets. Didn't work." She saw a parchment in Peter Pettigrew's clutched hands. "What's that?"

Peter's eyes thinned. "Can we show her?" he questioned, turning to James.

James's brows lifted as he glanced at her then gave Peter a nod of confirmation. "Yeah, sure."

Freya leant forward and took the parchment from Peter, reading over it. It was a list of events that had yet to come. They weren't all pranks, just more-so plans for the year. On realisation that she was involving herself with their mischief, she flung the parchment back at Peter. "On second thought, I don't want to know." Just as she stood up, the compartment door slid open. Sirius Black entered, one side of his face particularly red and a bruise was appearing across his eyebrow. "Good look, Black."

"Thanks," he replied derisively. "It was by your design."

Freya lifted one corner of her lips. "I already told them what you did. They're not backing you up." She pulled him into the compartment, taking his place in the doorway. "Don't find me, I'll find you."

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