Disclaimer: Ok, listen. I did this thing with An Unusual Beginning where I wrote these really elaborate tongue-in-cheek disclaimers for every chapter. I did it with the prologue for this work. But I'm coming to realize that the playful tone and the "Oh, haha, I'm not J.K. Rowling" vibe (with the implication that she's the "real deal") feels much less appropriate to me now, in a time where Rowling has thoroughly doubled down on her very public TERF-y views. For those who may not be familiar with the term: TERF = trans exclusionary radical feminist, i.e. someone who considers themself a feminist, but thinks that you have to have specific biology to be a woman (newsflash: as a professional and credentialed Science Person (TM), I can state with authority that, even if gender were not a social construct, the biology part of this is not black and white). To be clear: J.K. Rowling has probably always been a TERF. She was probably a TERF while I was writing An Unusual Beginning, and it is entirely possible that I was not paying enough attention to figure it out until her TERF-iness became more public.

Regardless. Given the context, I don't feel great writing that kind of disclaimer anymore. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. To say otherwise is to contribute to the marginalization and danger that trans people face in the world every day. And if you disagree with me and you feel obligated to send me a message informing me of such disagreement, just know that I will make a donation in your honor to an organization that supports trans rights and/or to a specific fundraiser for gender-affirming surgery or care.

I'll say this instead of my usual disclaimer: I am not responsible for the world of Harry Potter. I am responsible for this story and some of these characters (and if you are going to use elements of this story or any of my original characters as inspiration, etc., I don't mind - but please do reach out first!). I do not agree with the opinions and worldview of the person who did create Harry Potter. She kind of sucks. I am trying to suck less.

It's a work in progress.

Chapter 1: Catching Up

"All of those stupid Ministry functions are exactly the same," Rose said peevishly to Al the next day.

"We've only been to the one," Al pointed out. It was true – the Weasley-Potter clan kids were exempt from most Ministry functions until they started Hogwarts. In retrospect, Rose realized that was because their parents had left out certain . . . critical details about the Wizarding War for most of their childhoods, until such a time when they decided their children were mature enough to handle those details. Certain critical details including the fact that Rose's uncle Harry Potter happened to be the Chosen One, the only wizard able to finally defeat Lord Voldemort. And the fact that Rose's parents, Ron and Hermione Weasley (née Granger), had accompanied Harry nearly every step of the journey towards Voldemort's death, including the destruction of his seven Horcruxes (which were not common knowledge) and the devastation of the Battle of Hogwarts (which was). Rose and Al had found all of this out at the beginning of their first year after coincidentally sharing a train compartment on the Hogwarts Express with none other than Scorpius Malfoy – they had no idea how much their parents had hated each other until Scorpius, of all people, told them.

Of course, their very first night at Hogwarts, their parents had shown up and swept Rose and Al off to the Feast of the Annunciation – a Weasley-Potter clan tradition where the full story of the War and their family's role in it was divulged, now that the children were old enough to understand why parts of it needed to remain a family secret. Still, sitting next to Scorpius Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express had been . . . enlightening.

Ultimately, after age eleven, the extended Weasley-Potter-Lupin-etc. clan children were expected to be able to manage themselves in polite society. Living up to that expectation was a different matter entirely. While last night's Ministry function had indeed been Rose's first, she was becoming quickly aware that between "expected to be able to manage yourself in polite society" and "actually able to manage yourself in polite society," there was a large, possibly insurmountable gap. At least for some of her cousins.

"Teddy says they're always the same," Rose insisted stubbornly. Teddy had disappeared somewhere with Victoire very soon after arriving at the function, which Rose had taken as her cue that being an out-of-sight-but-presumably-still-around Weasley child was just as acceptable as being a bored-stiff-by-having-to-talk-to-all-these-people Weasley child.

"You're just mad you missed the whole bit with Fred and the chocolate," Al said, rolling up a pair of socks and trying to toss them into his open trunk. He missed, but didn't bother to pick them up.

"You missed it too." Rose folded her arms. "I'm not picking those up for you, you know."

"I know. You've already said about eight times that you finished packing ages ago." Al gestured hopelessly around his bedroom, which was a violent explosion of green and gold (from Aunt Ginny's Holyhead Harpies paraphernalia) with occasional flashes of orange (from Chudley Cannons gear, as gifted to Al by Rose's father) and the odd sock or t-shirt stuck to a wall, tossed over a chair, or shoved haphazardly into a space on the bookshelf. "I'm working on it."

"Well, the sooner you're done, the sooner we can get to Diagon Alley, you know."

"You've also said that about eight times." Al glared at Rose. "We haven't even got our – "

"Al!" Aunt Ginny called from downstairs, "Your book list for this year just arrived!"

There was a long pause.

"Don't say it," Al suggested.

"Yes we have," said Rose, pleased to be right about something.

. . .

It had been, Rose thought, a particularly trying summer, and she wasn't at all sorry to see the end of it. True, her only year at Hogwarts so far had been spent largely being pursued by a mentally unbalanced Muggle driven mad by Death Eaters murdering his family, who wanted his children back so desperately that he had tried to use Rose and Al (and, incidentally, Scorpius) as human sacrifices in a magical ritual he'd taken out of a fictional children's book – but somehow, at least being caught up in all that meant she felt like she knew what was happening. At home, her parents were doing their utmost to shield her from any of it, and that was beyond frustrating.

Peter Marduin, the Muggle who had been responsible for the havoc last year, was dead. But the puzzle remained incomplete. Someone had broken him out of the psychiatric ward of a hospital – twelve years prior. Someone had kept him out of the public eye, and had helped him evade readmission for twelve years. Someone had told him about the magical world – the real magical world, not the fictional version from the children's book that he had confused with reality. Someone had let him into Hogwarts. Someone had let him into Gryffindor Tower. And, as far as Rose could tell, they still had no idea who was responsible for any of that.

Which meant, she figured, that she and Al, and possibly the rest of the Potter-Weasley crew, were probably still in very grave danger. And that Hogwarts might not be a safe place.

Still. Being back at Hogwarts beat being home and having her parents tiptoe completely around her.

There had been a flurry of activity at the beginning of the summer – when Rose and Al brought home all the information Scorpius had gathered on Peter Marduin – that had nearly ended in Rose's father storming Malfoy Manor and confronting Draco Malfoy about why he was "in league with the Muggle madman." But, aside from a few long discussions with Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, and her mother and father, the adults had largely kept Rose and Al out of it. Rose only knew that things were still happening because her father and mother looked so worried all the time.

Eventually, what she realized that meant was that they weren't getting anywhere with it.

"Mum," she asked after making sure Hugo was nowhere to be seen, "Have you looked into Melisenda Wilkes at all?"

"Rose, dear, you've asked me this about a hundred times already," Hermione said, clearly trying not to sound exasperated. "I understand you don't like Melisenda, and I know her family may have a . . . reputation. But your not liking her does not make her a criminal."

"But Mum – "

"Trust me, Rosie, your Uncle Harry made this same mistake back in our second year with D . . . with one of our classmates." Rose figured out who she was talking about fairly quickly, but didn't feel the need to point it out. Scorpius was . . . well, Scorpius was her friend, as much as she'd resisted it in her first year. They tended to snipe at each other, particularly under pressure – they'd said some unkind things to each other in the Shrieking Shack . . . but she wouldn't have escaped in one piece without him. She and Al wouldn't have figured out nearly as much about Marduin as they had without his help. His father being something of a git and an actual Death Eater didn't make Scorpius less of a friend to her, but that didn't mean she wanted to talk about it much. She switched targets.

"All right, but what about Callister?"

"Your Transfiguration Professor and the current Head of Slytherin House?"

"Yeah, him."

"That wouldn't be cliché at all," Rose's father said, breezing in.

"Clichés exist for a reason," Rose said, folding her arms.

"We checked into him, Rosie," Ron said. "His record's spotless. He's from an old Pureblood family without much money. No Muggle connections or relations. The bloke has an unfortunate name, but that's it."

And that had been the last time they talked about it. Any of it.

Of course, Rose and Al talked about it all the time. But without more information, and given that, well, nothing new seemed to be happening, their conversations tended to spiral and weave and fractalize. And Scorpius was no help; they hadn't heard from him all summer.

In fairness to Scorpius, that may not have been entirely his fault. Al was not the most reliable of correspondents, but he and Rose had sat down a few times to write to Scorpius . . . only they never sent the letters.

"What do you think it would look like for owls from the Weasleys and the Potters to show up at the Malfoys' windows all the time?" Rose would ask. "Don't you think that might get him into trouble with his parents?"

"You think," Al would reply, "that they know what our owls look like?"

"Maybe! Who really knows what they know? They're parents! It's their job to know everything!"

"They'd have to be stalking us to know what our owls look like on sight, Rose," Al would, very reasonably, point out.

"Well maybe they are!"

And Al would roll his eyes, but they wouldn't mail the letters. And Scorpius never once sent them anything, so Rose figured he felt about the same way as she did.

So when he turned up to the Ministry function after a whole summer of silence, of course Rose and Al dragged him off to a quiet room to talk.

"I'm sorry to say I haven't found out anything new," was the first thing Scorpius said, shortly followed by, "But I've been thinking an awful lot -"

"Hello to you too," said Al.

Scorpius blinked. "Oh right. Yes, yes. 'llo. Hope you've had good summers. Did you . . .?" he looked at them expectantly.

"It's all right, Malfoy," said Rose, shrugging. "We don't know anything new either."

"So we can spend the rest of this stuffy 'function' just catching up," Al said, clapping a rather surprised looking Scorpius on the back. "How've hols been? I want to hear all about your trip to France! It really is good to see you, Malfoy."

And that, for the most part, was that. Well, aside from the fact that it actually was a bit nice to see Scorpius. Rose had loved spending the summer with her family, and with Al in particular, but something about Scorpius's being there, and about she and Al and Scorpius being . . . well, just them – something about it made sense. They fit, the three of them.

But they still knew nothing new, and Rose still got the feeling that her parents weren't making progress either. In moments of unguarded thought, Rose found herself musing. What they needed, she thought, was to get back to Hogwarts. If she could just watch Melisenda and Callister for a bit . . . if she could just ask the Fat Lady if there had been anyone odd coming into the Tower last year . . . but no. This is where she would stop herself.

Rose would not, she vowed, repeat the same mistakes this year that she made last year. She was not going to assume that she could find all the answers, alone – the last time she'd tried that, everything had gone horribly wrong.

She could still look forward to the new school year though.

Even after they got the lists of the books they'd need for classes that year, it seemed practically ages before they could get to Diagon Alley. Al had to finish packing, Rose had to Floo home and get her supply list (she'd tried to convince Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry that she could probably just use the same list as Al, but Al himself would have none of it. "You're going to put little checkmarks all over it," he'd said accusingly. Not that he was wrong, per se) she'd been distracted once she was at home by Hugo (who was still stomping mad that he had been barred not only from the Ministry function, but also from going to Hogwarts a year early), and by the time she was back at the Potters' and ready to go, Aunt Ginny had talked with Uncle Percy and Uncle Fred, and it was decided they'd all go to Diagon Alley tomorrow anyways.

Rose stayed at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's for dinner, which she'd been doing regularly over the summer whenever Hugo was in one of his Moods. Because when Hugo was in a Mood, household items tended to explode into their component parts. Anything held together by magic tended to reassemble itself in odd ways – which was how Rose's mother had discovered that Rose's father had broken a favorite picture frame of hers. And anything not held together by magic but responsible for holding other things (for example, a standard inkwell) tended to expel its contents rather violently (for example, all over Rose's half-finished notes on a Charms reading she was doing ahead). Ron had chuckled fondly, ruffled Hugo's hair, and said he was pretty sure this meant that he'd be a great wizard someday. Rose had muttered under her breath that it made him a great prat right now.

Unfortunately, Rose's father had heard her.

She wasn't exactly in trouble, and she wasn't exactly in a fight with Hugo, but it seemed more prudent to be elsewhere. Plus Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry always seemed happy to have someone around who could stop James and Al from fighting.

"I swear," said Aunt Ginny, rolling her eyes, "I grew up in a home with six brothers, and they were never as bad as those two."

"I'll distract Al if you take James," Rose offered.

"It's a deal. Think you can get him to finish his packing?"

"I don't think World Cup tickets could get him to finish his packing," Rose said solemnly, "But I'll give it a try."

Author's Note: Hello! I am back. The first draft of A Strange Sequel is done, and I feel good enough about at least this chapter to start posting. I'm going to try to stick to a weekly posting schedule - there may be exceptions if I am traveling, but I think generally that should be achievable.

In rereading An Unusual Beginning (several times), I was struck by the fact that I really, really disliked how long the chapters felt when I was scrolling through them. I think it's something to do with the difference between turning a page in a book vs. just endless scroll - my eyes get lost in the computer text. I'm not sure if other people have this. So you'll notice that the chapters for A Strange Sequel are a bit shorter - not, like, under 1000 words short, but there aren't any 7000+ word monstrosities. It's the same story, I've just broken the chapters up a bit more bite-size. At just over one hundred thousand words (yes, I too cannot believe this astronomical number, dear lord what was I thinking), that means that there will be around 34-35 chapters (currently 34 + Prologue, but I reserve the right to change how I've broken up the last few chapters as I go reread them).

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story!

Love, bbh