Brace For Impact: Chapter Three: Year Three
AN: It has dawned on me that this is essentially an au where Hogwarts and Brakebills exist in the same universe, just on separate countries and they hate each other's guts. Which makes more sense since I was basically stealing the plot of season 3 and reworking it to suit my setting in ST.
Dumbledore and Fogg do not get along, but that's a story for another book ;)
Hope did not steal the bike, no matter what the Dursleys thought. She'd attached what looked slightly like a wagon to the back of it, stuffing her backpack and sleeping bag into it before taking off, grin on her face, sunglasses on her eyes, Nath's phone in her pocket.
If she'd been biking the whole way, she suspected it would've been something like almost a full day of biking, but Hope could flash and it took time off reaching her destination, because although Pithos, what the Slytherin castle was called, was in Wales as Potter Manor had been, it diverged at a certain point. And once she'd flashed there -scaring a few pigeons-, that still left her with a bit left to bike and it would at the very least be a work out for Hope's legs.
Her limp was gone now, though the scars would remain, but Hope had never minded scars too much, not with the new one the basilisk had left her on her arm.
So, she tied her hair back, let her skin be as olive as her father's had been, grinned, and began to pedal in the direction of the Forest of Morea.
It was a long ride, she'd admit later, when she finally peeled off the road to park the bike against a tree, hiking up her backpack and sleeping bag as she pulled out the flimsy parchment with her directions on it and began her trek in.
Hope had always liked the outdoors more than the Dursleys had liked her to, mostly because she already looked violently unlike them and adding a tan to it was going to make that difference more pronounced. And the Forest of Morea was far less terrifying than the Forbidden Forest.
She gazed around, looking for any indication of the castle positioned just off the coast, but she probably wasn't far enough in.
Hope consulted the map again before tucking it into her pocket, feeling the light dapple of rain making its way through the trees, making her grin more. She didn't even care that she was soaked by the time she reached the wrought iron gates so like Potter Manor's, yet, at the same time, so unlike them. They were like twisting snakes, weaving together…and beyond them lay the most magnificent castle Hope had ever laid eyes on.
It was nowhere as large as Hogwarts, but it didn't need to be. There were mounted spires and turrets with ivy and moss climbing up with flowers blooming across stone, and ramparts curving around the castle itself. And you could just feel the magic in the air, like at Potter Manor, but older, much older…more natural than Potter Manor's had felt.
She brushed her hands against the metal, watching the snakes slither away to allow her entrance, and she could just feel the protective magic Salazar Slytherin had layered around the property, like spiderwebs tugging at her skin.
There was a hint of what had once been a lovely bench on a swing, but everything was so overgrown it was difficult to see as Hope picked her way through tall grass and trees to press against the great double doors, throwing them open before it became too much of a torrential downpour.
Immediately, flames burst to life in long unused torches and Hope couldn't help but smile broadly.
Yellow-lensed glasses followed the child's movements, taking in a heavy breath. Quinn Adiyodi had met Hope Potter when she was twelve, still with a limp, unease sinking into her spine, nearly blinding them with energy they had no idea she radiated.
She cracked their best charmed lenses.
All magicians had magical energy. All gods had godly essence. All psychics had etheric energy.
Not just anyone could possess etheric energy on top of godly essence and even less could manage it without burning up...
"Whatever that kid is," Quinn muttered to themselves, "it's not human."
And, as if sensing someone was watching her, Hope turned quickly and Quinn vanished, quickly reappearing in their office, cupping their chin thoughtfully. Excess etheric energy was an issue that a lot of students had to deal with, it was what caused a large portion of magical accidents on campus. Overpowered spells sending unsuspecting brats -master's program their ass- to the infirmary, greenhouses bursting in full bloom, cocktails sending people on the worst trip of their lives…the list went on.
Hope Potter was no psychic, but Quinn was personally betting on the discipline that touched on all branches of magic.
Quinn was never wrong.
They'd gone over to Diane's place -trying not to think about how it had felt to kiss her- and had seen Hope and had given her the toughest magical arithmetic problem they could think of, just for kicks. Hope had finished it in five minutes and asked if they had another.
The kid might be learning wand magic, but she was a literal genius at wandless magic.
It was going to cause her a lot of problems; Quinn could just see it.
And Quinn, who hadn't taken a student on in more than a decade started to wonder about the possibility…
If Hope was feeling particularly adventurous, she probably could've scoured her way through the entire castle in a single day, but Hope liked to take her time and enjoy everything that the castle had to offer. The library, for one thing, was an absolute marvel, larger than Hope could've imagined, at least twice the size of the one in Hogwarts -if not larger-, and the greenhouse was something else entirely.
Well, it wasn't technically a greenhouse, Hope supposed. It was more of a conservatory, being a part of the castle itself and being more like a large glass-paned room that had perhaps once been delicately attended to, but had been left to grow in the absence of that care. She stood there in awe for the longest time.
Now, she had never been much of a lover of plant life, but something about it stuck with her since Professor Sprout had pulled her into that greenhouse last term, she'd had an appreciation for it…and it was starting to look like Hope might not need to buy any potion ingredients that could be grown for the next few years…and probably anyone else that wanted them…but cutting them all down was a toil for another day.
So, she continued on, stopping at the room that had been an interest ever since she had heard the name Nelda Slytherin and learned that Salazar's first born had, in fact, been a squib. So, she pushed her door open cautiously and entered the bed chambers.
It could not have been clearer how very unlike her revered father Nelda was. The room was a mess, a contrast with how James Potter's had been, billowing shirts, knee high boots, ripped breeches, and thick coats were strewn about, some of them a size more suitable for a man, but Hope remembered from Salazar's journal that Nelda had taken her first mate, a man named Damian Blackwood, to be her husband, so that would make sense.
There were knives everywhere; stabbed into walls, cluttering the desk, some even mounted in cases. Hope could make out a few that looked like the ones Nath had helped form her hands around before showing her how to fling them with ease. She was still a better shot with knives than a long bow but Nath had laughed, saying she struck him more as the crossbow type, either way. And Hope was still trying to figure out why he thought it was so important to teach a ten-year-old to know their way around weaponry, but Nath was a special kind of person.
Hope trailed her fingers over the assortment of knives, some of which seemed ornamental, like when a pirate captain wanted to terrify other pirates, but many had seen real wear, with red crusted into the hilt and tarnishing the metal.
It seemed that Nelda had a simple style, about everything not related to weaponry, which Hope could appreciate, and she pocketed a few earrings before finding a peculiar necklace. It was a long and thick chain with an ornate key hanging from it, beside a small jar filled with what looked like water, sea salt and a blue-green stone, sealed with wax, an octopus charm bound to it.
Hope frowned in confusion, returning it to its place, getting distracted by the serpentine blades propped against the wall.
The necklace would lay forgotten for many years until Hope sought it out with a purpose.
Bill Weasley had never met Hope Potter in person, but she was, for all intents and purposes, a nerd, that much he could figure out while listening to her ramble to his siblings on a compact mirror that his father had enlarged so as to keep them from fighting over it.
"—and there's so many books, so many fucking books," Hope was saying, full of awe and excitement. "I have to show Hermione the library one day, because she'll just die on the spot, oh my gods…and I don't even think this counts as a greenhouse but ho-ly fuck!"
Bill watched the mirror swing around to show them that was hardly a greenhouse, but certainly large, with glass-paned walls, absolutely covered in plants.
"I'm gonna cut down so many plants," Hope said, absolutely delighted before pausing, "wait, where did I put my knife? Never mind, Nelda's room's full of knives, I can use one of them instead—"
Bill arched an eyebrow when Fred waggled his eyebrows at George who turned pink and ignored him.
"Have you found the pirate ship yet?" George asked instead and Ginny popped her head up immediately.
"There's a pirate ship?!"
"I haven't found it yet!" Hope complained with a pout. "But I'm determined to find it before Dean and Miss Diane come up."
"And when's that?" Ron snorted.
"Apparently, Dean and I have the same birthday so Miss Diane decided that we'll have a picnic up here and then she'll drive me back to the Dursleys—" Hope mimed gagging. "—I'm personally looking forward to going back even less because Vernon's sister is going to be visiting and she's going to be a treat…maybe I should look into a spell for self-combustion…"
Ron snorted. "At least you're up to your eyeballs in trouble. Fred and George tried to shut Percy in a pyramid."
Hope laughed, bright and light. "I'm guessing it didn't work."
Percy glowered from the couch.
"Mum spotted us," Fred lamented.
"Oh, yeah, Bill, this is Hope," Ron added and Hope waved cheerily.
"You're the cool older brother, yeah?" she asked.
Bill allowed himself a chuckle. "Something like that. Nice to meet you…is that a blood rune?" He couldn't help but notice the carving on the inside of her wrist. "Nice penmanship."
Blood Magick wasn't technically outlawed on the continent, but it was rather frowned on, so it was amusing that the Girl-Who-Lived had chosen to study it.
"Thanks," Hope grinned, faintly surprised, "I'm thinking of doing 'protect' and 'attack' on my palms, but waiting for them to heal is gonna be a menace."
"Did you ever get around to turning that basilisk fang into a knife?" Ron asked and Hope lit up before yelling "Don't move!" and taking off. "I don't know why I bother asking, she's gonna have a collection on knives by the end of this." Ginny giggled.
"I dunno," Fred's eyes gleamed, "I think George likes when she's got a bunch of knives, right, George?"
George turned positively red and Ron cleared his throat loudly and on the other end, Hedwig jostled the mirror, trilling a hoot. Hope had let her go before they'd gotten on the train and it looked like she'd hunted her down the long way round, which was probably preferable to being locked up with the Dursleys.
"Shut up!" he hissed and Bill hid his amusement and befuddlement, trying to remember a time that George had honestly been attracted to anyone, but that had always been more of Fred's thing.
"Maybe you should get her a knife for her bir—"
George slammed his hand over Fred's mouth, both of them falling to struggle on the ground just as Hope came back.
"Here it i—hang on, what's going on with Fred and George?"
"Ignore them," Ron said sagely, "they're absolutely mental."
Bill snorted.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm okay," Ginny admitted, holding the mirror and watching Hope try her hand at shredding some plants that looked like something she'd used in potions before. "Some days, I'm not so great, but being away…helps, I think."
Hope hummed faintly, using her teeth to tie twine around a bundle of knotgrass. She was making headway on clearing up the greenhouse, but the Venomous Tentacula was going to take some work.
Ginny swallowed thickly. "Sometimes I think something might really be broken inside me."
That made Hope pause and sigh heavily. "Yeah, I feel that way sometimes too."
That startled Ginny, but she remembered how down Hope had been the previous year before Christmas, when she'd had a violent turn around and started baring her teeth and fighting with anyone that gave her trouble. Ginny remembered thinking 'If she can do that, then why can't I?' But it turned out, Hope had a lot of help and put a lot of work into it.
"I think my brain…breaks sometimes," Hope admitted. "I'm getting better but I take medications -um, potions, I guess- to help me handle it better. Some people's brains just don't work the way they should and we've got to try a bit harder at things that come easier to everyone else…like getting out of bed when we don't even want to move, or having more trouble concentrating on things, not finding things as fun as you used to…but don't let Riddle tell you how to live your life."
Ginny grimaced.
"What'd your parents say about the mind healer?"
That was what Madam Pomfrey had suggested after everything. Dad had wanted to, but mind healers could be expensive, but Mum had never put much stock in mind healers…it wasn't like there was anything physically wrong with Ginny, after all, and Ginny told Hope as much.
Hope's scowl was so fierce that Ginny had to stare when some fluxweed caught on fire and Hope muttered something distasteful under her breath, beating the fire out. "Sometimes I don't understand your mother at all," Hope growled. "I've been to therapy! I am a work in progress because people noticed I was struggling and helped me get the help I needed!"
Ginny couldn't quite put it into words, how it felt to hear someone on her side against her mother, but Hope always chafed against authority. She'd been utterly flummoxed as to why she and Ron couldn't share his room last year when Mum had turned red in the face, or why she had to help with making lunch when the boys didn't have to…but Mum had always been a bit old-fashioned.
"You call me if you ever need to talk, yeah?" Hope's eyes were dark and severe and Ginny remembered her pale and bloody in the Chamber and she remembered the scars littering her leg; Hope had paid the price for her experience.
"I promise," Ginny said quietly before shaking herself and clearing her throat to say resolutely, "I will."
Hope nodded approvingly and somehow that meant more than Mum's pleasure at her doing well in school, despite all that had happened.
"So, you haven't found the ship, yet?" Dean laughed and Hope swallowed her disappointment into her sandwich.
"Nope…but it's gotta be under the castle, if it's still there," Hope complained. "Like, I've never been a pirate person, but that ship would make me reconsider."
Dean scoffed. "You have two knives on you right now, I think you're a pirate person."
Hope scowled and Diane sniggered into her cup of juice, watching them banter as she sat back and enjoyed the show on the blanket they'd spread out on the beach, their sandwiches and drinks crammed next to their legs.
"What'd George get you for your birthday?" Dean grinned. "Was it a knife?"
"You know what, Thomas? I'm gonna shove this—"
Diane cleared her throat. "No violence where there are witnesses."
"Mum!"
"Sure thing!"
Dean glowered and Hope smirked devilishly.
"It was a knife, though, wasn't it?" Dean asked, unable to help himself, yelping when Hope threw herself at him, catching him in a head-lock while Diane roared with laughter. "Mum!" he choked. "Help!"
"Son, you got yourself into this, you can get yourself out of it," Diane snorted as the pair tussled in the sand, Hope's new necklace glinting in the sunlight. It had a key on a chain with a decorative raven, wings spread, and it did, in fact, conceal a knife, but she wasn't about to tell Dean that.
Eventually, Hope let Dean up, massaging his neck as he did so, Hope rushing into cold water to rinse the sand out of her long red hair. She'd decided to grow it out, Diane had noticed. It was a good look, but it helped when she looked so much happier than she had the last time she'd seen her. She wasn't trying as hard to hide the scar on her forehead, yanking it up into a high ponytail, and Diane could see that she'd had the time to add to her earrings, because the last time she'd seen her, she'd only had two piercings, something which was no longer the case.
She was still wearing the red-gem dangling earrings her godfather had given her, but now there was a snake ear cuff on one ear and two loops in her cartilage of her other ear, and Diane knew Hope had gotten a leather jacket at some point.
"Darling," she said sweetly, "just curious, but are you planning to murder your boy on sight?"
Hope turned bright red. "I'm not—he's not—look! I like this look!"
"It's a good look," Diane smiled, flicking her eyes towards Dean. "Try and get a picture, won't you, darling?"
Dean laughed and Hope huffed.
Long after the kids had run off, Diane palmed a cigarette, snapping her fingers to light the end, and taking in a long drag, blowing out smoke. She barely used magic these days for anything that wasn't lighting a cigarette, and it was better that way.
She used to have so much power at her fingertips, at every tut of her hands, but if there was one thing you shouldn't do, it was get involved with the deity to whom you'd made a deal with for magic. Dean was her greatest gift, but he was also proof that magic wasn't worth a god having power over you.
She could see her lover in every mirror, in every reflection, and she could see her in the water rolling in. Diane remembered well the dark thick curls, the hypnotic eyes, the soft smile, the raven always perched on her shoulder.
Diane scowled, stamping through her image and not caring if she soaked her shoes.
"Mum!" Dean shouted. "There's a– its huge! You've got to come see!"
"Did you actually find the pirate ship?" she called back, amused.
"IT'S AMAZING!" Hope's yell pierced the air and Diane laughed, following after them, content to leave the past in the past.
But the past had a nasty habit of not staying where it was supposed to, she found later on, while driving her kids back to Surrey. Dean had commandeered the back seat and had fallen asleep a long time ago, with Hope following suit not long after, curving her body against the window.
Diane's eyes flicked to the back of her neck, visible from her ponytail falling over one shoulder and if anyone with clear eyes was looking, they would be able to see the hint of the triple spiral on the skin there.
She huffed in annoyance. Claimings were tricky business, but it would be just Diane's luck that Dean would end up befriending what equated to his sister, so it was likely that them being born on the same day wasn't mere chance.
"Fucking Morrigan," Diane muttered under her breath and kept driving.
Sirius Black had been staking out the Dursleys house for the longest time, because he knew that was where she had to be, his goddaughter, Hope.
She'd been so small the last time he'd seen her, wailing inside that house in Godric's Hollow, not caring how the house shook with every keen…but there she was, striding out of Number Four with an annoyed frown, grabbing a bike where it was propped against the side of the house.
She looked so much like them, Lily and James. The hair and eyes of Lily and the olive cheeks and smirk of James as she flipped off the woman shouting at her to get off the grass, not even bothering to look back, pedaling past.
Sirius didn't want to lose track of her, so he raced after her on his four legs to see her stop at a building labeled 'Fire Station'
"Li'l Hope, not so li'l anymore, eh?" a man commented, wiping his hands on a rag and Hope laughed, leaping off the bike to situate it against a nearby wall.
"Hey, Jim, is Nath inside?"
"With the food," Jim agreed, considering her, "you're starting to look an awful lot like him now, you sure he's not your daddy?"
Sirius bristled faintly, but Hope laughed, waving him off. "No, he's definitely just my godfather, but I'm sure he'll appreciate that you think he's old enough to have a teenager."
"Meh," Jim grumbled, "he's older than he looks." And Hope followed him inside, leaving Sirius to linger, waiting for her reappear again, but that was more than an hour later.
Then, she was accompanied by a tall man wearing the same uniform that Jim had been wearing, but he had James' (Hope's) olive skin and bronze hair tied back in a low ponytail, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
"George got me a hidden knife," Hope was telling the man delightedly, "see, look!" She showed him her necklace, which confused Sirius, but the man sniggered.
"Well, at least you've picked someone who knows the way to your heart," he snorted and Hope's cheeks flushed. "You really like this guy a lot, huh?"
Hope shrugged, still flushed. "He's…he respects my space, he never forces me into a corner…he makes me laugh, and the air feels more…breathable when he's around…I don't know how to really describe it, but I like him, he's sweet, and I'm debating about kissing him."
Now, Sirius had been kissing girls at thirteen, and, somehow, he didn't realize how hypocritical of him it was to think "She's too young for that!"
"Are you?" Nath hummed, amused. "Ah, well, don't let him push you into anything, yeah?"
Hope snorted. "When has anyone ever pushed me into anything?" And Nath couldn't help but chuckle in agreement, waving her off as she pedaled away, striding forward to stand beside when Sirius was lying, debating taking after her.
"Now, you aren't playing your part very well, Black," he said, stopping Sirius' heart in his chest. He looked up, but the man didn't seem to notice, patting his pockets with a mutter of "That damn brat stole my cigarettes!".
Sirius growled.
Nath's mouth twisted in amusement. "I stopped finding mortals frightening centuries ago, though I suppose my goddaughter might eventually be in the running." And then he slid his sunglasses down and Sirius yelped, skittering away at the sight of the blackness pooling in his eyes, making the man -not a man- laugh loudly.
In the distant darkness, someone considered a pair of pictures. One could not have been more clearly a muggle, a simple, powerless, muggle, and the second bore two children, an unknown boy with dark skin and a wide grin, and a familiar girl with a scar on her brow, laughing deeply.
He'd once worked in the Department of Mysteries, what seemed like ages ago, and he knew that Hope Potter's name was recorded in a number of places that you wouldn't've thought it should be. The girl was dangerous, that was why the Dark Lord had gone after her, after all…but he served more than one Dark Lord these days, and this one had power beyond He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wildest dreams, and terrified Rookwood even more.
This Lord didn't even think Rookwood would be able to kill two children, even one as infamous as Hope Potter, and Augustus Rookwood was determined to prove him wrong, even if he seemed to Rookwood…vaguely child-like in his determination to play fatal games.
They weren't even children, anyways, they were beings -monsters- wearing the faces of children to confuse their enemies and he wouldn't be confused and he wouldn't lose. He'd prove to his dangerous Lord why he was so effective during the War.
Maybe it would be enough to stay his execution.
Marjorie Dursley was a demon, of that, Hope was entirely certain…or maybe it was the whole family…Of course, "Aunt" Marge had never really liked Hope to begin with, why, Hope couldn't fathom, it wasn't as though she had done something wrong, anything wrong.
Or maybe the woman liked being cruel? She had once given her dog treats as some sort of present, which Hope hadn't been too impressed with. Did she even look remotely like a dog?
She had something against how green her eyes were ("I mean, look at them! No normal person has eyes that color!"), and Hope dearly wanted to say that she had inherited the color from her mother, but she kept her mouth shut, and then Marge complained about her hair ("It's not even the proper ginger!"). Proper ginger, my ass, Hope thought angrily. Her hair was perfectly natural thank you very much. And this time it was about the earrings and how she should be covering her scar up when with company, which Hope thought was utterly ridiculous.
Thankfully, Hope had missed most of her stay, and was only forced to make dinner for her on the last day. Of course, Marge thanked Petunia for such a lovely dinner, while Hope sulked, eating her small share of the food she'd made.
Hope cleared away her things and excused herself from the table once she was finished, doing her best to block out Marge's voice. And by "excusing herself" she meant standing up abruptly as going to the kitchen. She snuck a bit of the leftover Sheppard's Pie into her mouth when they weren't listening.
And then Hope froze when Marge began to talk about Hope as if she wasn't there.
"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the girl's turned out, Vernon," she said to her brother in a soothing voice. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."
Hope had heard those insults before, it was nothing new, but she could see where it was going…
"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she continued, unaware of the lightning storm brewing inside of Hope at her callous words. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup—"
Without meaning to, Hope caused her wineglass to shatter, caused hairline fractures on the windows, and made the plate she'd been holding cleave in two. Hope frowned deeply, even knowing how Marge always insulted her parents, it still made her anger bubble up inside.
She didn't turn around, but she could feel the glares burning into her back courtesy of Petunia and Vernon.
"Marge! Marge, are you all right?" Petunia asked.
Luckily, Marge was dismissive of her shattered glass. "Not to worry. Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"
Hope gritted her teeth as she packaged the rest of the dinner, just like she was supposed to for a day of leftovers, purposefully spilling a bit of water in the process, forcing her to hike up the stairs and grab a spare towel from the closet and rid her of Marge for a few minutes.
She arrived back down the stairs in time to hear Marge complimenting Dudley for being "proper-sized".
Hope rolled her eyes in annoyance. Proper-sized? Maybe she needed to get her eyes checked if she thought becoming the size of a whale was proper-sized and healthy-sized.
"Now this one," she said, jerking her head towards Hope with a look of disgust, "she's got runty, troublesome look about her. You get that with dogs."
Hope's eyebrow twitched. There she went again, comparing her to a dog again.
"It all comes down to the blood, as I was saying earlier. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg." The plate that had broken in two gained another crack. "They turn up in the best of families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."
Hope clenched a fist tight, trying to take a calming breath. Diane would've lit her cigarette a pressed the end into Marge's arm with a "What're you gonna do about it, bitch?" expression on her face.
"This Potter," she said, glancing slyly at Hope as if keen to see how long she was going to remain in control of her emotions, "you never told me what he did?"
The dinner small talk wasn't going in the direction that Petunia and Vernon had hoped, if the nervous looks on their faces were any indicator.
"He –didn't work," Vernon said after hesitating a half-second. "Unemployed."
Hope could feel her rage bubbling. Her parents were in hiding! Of course, they couldn't work!
"As I expected!" Marge sounded almost positively gleeful that she had some grounds to insult Hope's parents now. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy—"
"Hey, Marge?" Hope snapped suddenly, turning around to glower at her. "Eat shit and die."
Marge swelled up like a bullfrog and Vernon and Petunia were throwing her looks that she ignored. "What did you just say to me?" she blustered.
"I give you about three months, to be perfectly honest," Hope retorted snidely, seeing the aura around her more clearly than anything else. "And if there's one thing I've learned, its I'm never wrong about a death, and it must suck to know you didn't amount to much in life, huh?"
"Shut up!" Vernon snapped. "Enough from you! Marge, she's—"
"Insane?" Hope offered helpfully. "Didn't you use that already when I told the police that Dudley pushed me into traffic?"
"Duddy never did such a thing! You made it all up," Petunia insisted hotly, a familiar argument for Hope to sink her teeth in. "You-You have a mental problem!"
Hope gave her an unimpressed look. "Depression didn't grow arms and legs and push me into traffic, Petunia, your son did…and as for you…" Hope's eyes darkened as she looked over Marge. "My parents might not've been working when they were killed, but they contributed far more to society than you have, you fat old bat." Her mouth twisted into a sneer. "So, get stuffed!"
Marge mouthed wordlessly at Hope, apparently completely stunned at being spoken to the way she had, but then she started to expand, blowing up like a balloon floating up to the ceiling.
"MARGE!" Vernon screamed as Hope allowed herself a private smirk before she made her escape, darting upstairs.
Sirius Black couldn't really help himself. He was worried, especially with that man with dark eyes being such an active part of Hope's life; he just had to make sure she was all right.
A door slammed open with a loud crack and she strode out of it, wand tucked behind her ear, a bird cage tucked under her arm, dragging a heavy trunk behind her…and was that a woman shaped like a balloon floating up into the sky?
Her face was shrouded by darkness until she came under the lamppost, intent on the park bench that was just a few feet in front of the bush behind which Sirius was hiding in, and then Sirius approached quietly and cautiously.
She was muttering to herself. "…no Dean's no good, I don't want to overstay my welcome…and the Weasleys aren't even back from Egypt yet…" So, she withdrew a small compact mirror, her hand pulling out the wand and holding it tightly.
"Angelina Johnson," she said clearly.
"Hey, Hope!" a female voice answered her before becoming a bit confused. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," Hope said quickly, "I just had a question about that bus you told me about…the Kn—"
"The Knight Bus," the second voice finished for her, "yeah, you just hold out your wand and it'll take you wherever you want to go." The voice grew suspicious. "You're not in any trouble are you?"
"No, I'm fine," Hope disagreed. "See you when term starts, Angie."
"Al—" but Hope had shut the compact and shoved it into her pants, raking a hand through her long hair.
"Okay, I know you're there," she called out into the darkness, "you can come out now."
Sirius balked slightly and then terror overwhelmed his senses. What should he do? Should he come out or stay hidden? But then he took a step slowly forward and came out of the shadow so that she could see him.
The dog made "drowned" seem like an understatement as it approached her, whining softly. Its ratty fur was pitch black and sticking up every which way and its eyes seemed to glow in the light of the moon.
"C'mere," she crooned softly, holding out a gentle hand and wearing a smile. She scratched behind his ears, making him lean into her hand. Her eyes were drawn to his side and she winced at how obvious the ribs were protruding slightly under his coat.
She gave him a tight smile. "You must be very handsome when you have a bit of meat on your bones," she said, stroking the fur that covered his head.
Sirius wagged his tail and licked her hand, making her laugh aloud. She pressed a sound kiss to the top of his muzzle, but had to blink in surprise because the next second the dog had completely vanished. She scratched her cheek in slight confusion; there had been a dog there, hadn't there been? She was pretty sure… and then she saw why it had bolted.
Hope blinked owlishly at the purple double-decker bus that came to a stop right in front of her, in front of her pointed wand. So, this was the Knight Bus, was it? Not entirely what she was expecting.
A young man, looking rather like he was barely into adulthood himself, stepped down, speaking loudly to the night rather than to Hope.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening!"
Hope raised an eyebrow as he finished, sounding very much like he'd swallowed a script. But that action made her scar shift upwards on her forehead, bringing a bit of it into the light and making Stan's eyes jump to it.
"Woss that on your 'ead?" he asked her.
Hope ran a hand over her fringe, making certain that her scar couldn't be seen. "It's nothing," she said quickly.
"Woss your name?" Stan asked suspiciously.
"Diane Thomas," Hope said, thinking of the first name that came to mind. "Can this bus go to London?"
"Fo' eleven sickles," Stan said, bobbing his head up and down, "but fo' firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and fo' fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color o' your choice."
She tossed him a galleon. "Just to the Leaky Cauldron, keep the change."
Stan grinned toothily as the pair of them managed to haul her rather heavy trunk into the landing of the bus. It was a bit strange on the bus, Hope had to admit, mostly because she had never seen a bus with beds in the place of seats, but then, this was a Wizarding bus, so maybe it was different.
"You 'ave this one," he told her, shoving the trunk under the bed that was directly behind the driver. "This is our driver Ernie Prang."
Hope had the overwhelming feeling as though she was looking at some kind of insect, but then she realized that he was just wearing large and thick glasses that made his eyes seem larger than normal and bulbous.
"Take 'er away, Ern."
Hope yelped aloud as the bus accelerated suddenly, making her fall back onto her bed due the sharpness of the lurch in speed. She clamped her hands down on the bedposts to keep from flying off, and gazing out of the window in slight awe at how fast the streets and cars and people were passing them by, or was it the other way around?
Then she looked back to Stan, her attention drawn to the Daily Prophet he was reading. The figure photographed on the front of it was someone that she had seen before. She'd seen those same dark, endless eyes, that same thin, stretched face on the telly. An escaped convict or something, wasn't it? Was he a Muggle or a wizard, then, if he was on muggle television and on the wizard newspaper?
"That man," she said, nodding to the photo, "who is he?"
"'oo is 'e?" Stan asked, completely startled. "'oo is—? That's Sirius Black, that is. Don't tell me you've never been hearin' of any Sirius Black?"
"No, never," Hope said, eyeing the paper curiously, though, now that she did think about it, the name did sound slightly familiar, though from where Hope couldn't be certain. She'd only just barely seen him on the telly, which was a miracle all by itself.
"'E's a murderer," Stan said, gleeful to be the bringer of morbid news. "Got himself locked up in Azkaban for it."
"Azkaban?" Hope said in confusion. That name did sound familiar…was that the place Hagrid had been sent to, the one he was terrified of? "The prison? How did he escape the prison?"
Stan's eyes widened dramatically and Hope wondered if he was pulling her leg for all this. "That's the question, innit? He's the first one that done it!" His voice dropped. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. I reckon you've 'eard of him."
Well, Hope couldn't disagree with him there.
Hope didn't trust Minister Fudge from the second she saw him last year from underneath her invisibility cloak with Ron, and she certainly didn't trust him this year. He probably found her disconcerting, not really reacting to much of his kindly spoken words, but Hope had learned the hard way not to trust many in authority positions.
She hadn't even been concerned about how the Ministry of Magic had apparently found, punctured, and modified Marge's memory, which Hope thought was a little too bad. And she didn't understand why they were being so fussy now when they weren't the previous year.
(Hope still didn't know how Nath got that thrown out but she was fairly certain that it was illegal, which made it even more hilarious)
But she supposed it was all right to hang out in Diagon Alley for a few days until it was time to leave on the train, and she managed for a few days quite successfully keeping to herself, but the trouble came when she was making sure she'd gotten all her books for the coming term, only to grab a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions from her trunk and realize it wasn't hers.
Hope had grabbed a lot of books from her family's vault before her first year, but this was clearly one of James Potter's books, going off the bold script on the inside of the cover and there were notes…so many notes…Hope had never even known if her father had been good at potions.
So, she took it with her, intending to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, only to pause and look at the Apothecary, thinking about the basilisk.
Hope had right of conquest, right? To the victor goes the spoils, and Hope had killed the thing…so she stepped inside to see about making a deal with the apothecary.
Mr. Elton, who owned the Apothecary, was absolutely delighted about the prospect of getting his hands on some basilisk parts -anything from the venom, the flesh, the scaley skin, the bones, and the fangs- and from his calculations, it sounded like basilisk materials were worth a fortune.
Hope had no idea what she was going to do with that money, but she didn't really like the idea of leaving a basilisk's corpse, particularly one saturated in venom hanging around in a school.
(The irony that she was carrying a knife made from a basilisk's fang escaped her)
Just as long as Hope's name was kept out of it, she didn't mind going back into that chamber to dice up the serpent's corpse…though Mr. Elton had almost fainted when she asked if he'd wanted several miles of basilisk snake skin.
Still, Hope was feeling fairly accomplished when she finally sat down for a caramel sundae, reading her book propped on the napkin dispenser and reading his careful notes.
'Crush with flat side of dagger -releases juice better'
'Add a sprig of peppermint to counter excessive singing and nose-tweaking side-effects'
Hope tried to imagine learning potions from someone like her father. Would he have been patient, explaining each step carefully and making sure you knew it was all right when you screwed up? Or would he have been more like Snape?
She traced the slanting words and smiled.
Seamus saw her first, mostly because Dean got just a little distracted by a pretty blonde girl that he was pretty sure was in Slytherin, but there was something about the way she'd smirked at him out of the corner of her eye that had made Dean trip over his feet slightly.
"Damn," Seamus said. "Hope looks good."
And Dean followed his line of sight to where Hope was sitting at the ice cream shop, a school book open. He frowned. He supposed, objectively, Hope was quite pretty, her dark red hair hiked up in a top knot high on her head, not bothering to hide her scar, and she was keeping her skin olive now so she looked more like her father (She'd cried when Mum had shrugged and said "You look more like you, actually" and Dean had laughed until she'd punched his arm). But Hope had a bit of trouble with clothes, he'd noticed, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to wear baggy shirts or form fitting ones.
She was wearing a very baggy plaid shirt that looked an awful lot like what his mum would wear, tucked into jeans that surprisingly fit well and short boots and Dean suspected his mother having a hand in the pants and boots.
"Seamus, I'm saying this because I love you and you're my best mate," Dean said earnestly, "you aren't anywhere close to being her type."
And Seamus burst into laughter, remembering full well the glow in George Weasley's eyes when he got her to laugh. "Hey, Hope!" he called anyways and Hope looked up from her book to grin and wave and Seamus dragged Dean over. "Good holiday? Blowing people up and all that?"
Hope groaned loudly. "How did you hear about that?"
But Seamus grinned. "I'll never reveal my sources."
Hope actually laughed a that. "Bullshit. If I get you some butterbeer, you'll be talking a mile a minute."
"So, you got the Dursleys to sign your permission slip?" Dean asked. "Even after blowing someone up?"
"I conned it out of Vernon before the night started," Hope preened, "stuck it with a bunch of papers he needed to sign for work and he didn't even think twice."
"And you're still reading school books before school's even started!"
Hope looked down at the book in her hands before smirking. "Guess you'll find out why in a few weeks."
Seamus really didn't like the look on her face. "I'm terrified, my heart's racing."
Hope sniggered into her ice cream, downing it when she'd realized it had melted, checking the time. "I'm gonna grab some lunch. See you guys later."
They both waved her away with a laugh, heading off towards Quality Quidditch Supplies, no doubt to marvel at the new Firebolt, and Hope tossed a few coins on the table and headed off to the Leaky Cauldron, taking the steps upstairs two at a time to drop off her book and then making to head back downstairs after shutting her door, only to pause, tentatively pressed down on the floor with her left foot.
It was true that she'd had some sensory loss with her left leg, from how damaged it had been after the accident, and the doctors at the hospital had been pretty certain that while she might regain the ability to walk on it, it was unlikely that she'd experience sensation like she used to. Honestly, it waxed and waned for her and right now she was having a hard time feeling it.
She huffed in annoyance. They should've just cut it off.
"You all right?" came a familiar voice and Hope looked in surprise. George was tanner than he'd seemed on the mirror, the freckles dotting his cheeks in contrast, but he had the same furrowed brow and tentative smile.
"You're back," Hope said, not even realizing he'd said something to her, "and wow, you look—" Her cheeks flushed and he grinned. "Oh, shut up."
"How do I look?" he asked, leaning against the wall. "Good? Spectacular? As radiant as the summer sun?"
"I'm not nearly that poetic," Hope grumbled in annoyance, ducking her head slightly and George swallowed thickly when the necklace she was wearing caught the light.
"I guess you liked it," he managed. "My present."
Hope tugged on the chain. "Pretty and dangerous, I like it a lot." She looked up to meet his eyes. "I haven't taken it off."
George rubbed the back of his head, coughing faintly as his cheeks bloomed with color, avoiding her eyes. "Well, um, how would you feel, uh, about going on a date to Hogsmeade." He paused and then clarified. "With me."
"Sounds nice," Hope said, turning pink herself.
"Really?" George was far too pleased, and then he beamed. "All right, then." He stooped to quickly kiss her cheek, but Hope surprised him, turning just slightly so that he caught her mouth instead. His eyes widened, but hers fluttered shut, fingers running into his hair, keeping him there and George didn't mind in the slightest.
"Mm," Hope mumbled when they parted just enough for them both to breathe in sharply. "Not bad."
George's eyebrow twitched. "Not bad?" Then he smirked. "I can do better than that."
But Hope blocked his lips with her fingers, unable to help laughing at his surprised expression. "Later," she promised, kissing his cheek sweetly. "If you have the patience for that."
"You are, without a doubt, the worst person I have ever met," George decided, kissing the fingers against his mouth before interlocking them with his. "You're paying for my butterbeer for this."
"It better be fucking worth it," Hope laughed brightly and he joined her.
Ron was exasperated but unsurprised to see Hope and George walking hand-in-hand, faces flushed and Fred was still howling about them kissing before even making it to Hogwarts.
"Do you think I can murder your twin before he gets on the train?" Hope asked loudly to George.
"If you can manage it, all the power to you," George replied sagely, making her giggle and Fred gape in outrage.
"George, you're supposed to be on my side!"
"I'm the one he's kissing," Hope snorted. "He's on my side."
George beamed and she glanced out of the corner of her eye, turning faintly pink. "Sorry, Freddie."
"Just wait until I find Angie," Fred grumbled under his breath.
Hermione giggled into her pumpkin juice. "Good holiday, then, Hope?"
"Fairly good." Hope stole some chips from George's plate. "Apart from, you know, blowing someone up, which was just desserts, by the way—" Hermione gave Hope a reproachful look that Hope wisely ignored. "—but, Hermione, Pithos' library is massive and you've got to see it one day!"
And Hermione had never looked quite like something beautiful had slipped from her grasps.
"Was France fun?" Hope asked instead. "See any remains in the ancient catacombs?"
"That would be what you'd want to know," Hermione grumbled while Ron sniggered. "It was beautiful."
Hermione had a small compact mirror to match Hope's but she hadn't used it all that much during the summer, getting swept away in her vacation, which was fine. It wasn't as though she got to see her parents all the time, anyways, and Hope didn't want to intrude.
"Besides, did you really blow up your aunt?" Hermione tried to look severe as Hope opened the Daily Prophet, the same article on the mass-murderer Sirius Black emblazoned.
"I wasn't trying to," Hope responded, unperturbed, "but I also wasn't not trying to, if you know what I mean." George and Fred burst into sniggers while Ron howled. "Hermione, if someone called you a dog and said that there was something wrong with your mother to make you like this—" Hope gestured to herself. "You'd want to blow them up."
Hermione gave a conceding sort of nod.
"We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too," Ron was telling Hope as she ate a few more chips. "So, you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's staying, too!"
There was something weird about that. Staying in Diagon Alley when they could've saved money by staying at home, especially with how little money the Weasleys had was certainly odd.
"Darling, Dean tells me you blew someone up."
George looked up at the good-to-honest delighted voice as Hope laughed. She was a tall woman with dark gleaming skin, nearly bald and George could see the hint of the muscles in her arms under her light jacket. There was something about her that screamed 'warrior'.
"Awesome," the woman grinned. "Stick it to the assholes."
Hope bumped her fist, grinning widely. "You're always happy when I pick fights, Miss Diane."
"A little fighting is good for the soul," Miss Diane declared.
Mum made a scandalized sound. "You're telling children to fight?"
Miss Diane wasn't too impressed with Mum. "So, you tell your kids it's okay for adults to treat them like shit and walk all over them and abuse them? I know for a fact my kid came to your place last summer with a massive shiner, just how do you think she got that?"
There was an uncomfortable air around them and Hermione arched an eyebrow at how Miss Diane said 'my kid' and how Hope didn't bother to correct her.
"Children rough house!" Mum blustered, flushing red. She hadn't quite believed them or Hope when she'd said where she'd gotten it, but George still remembered feeling how Hope trembled, hiding behind him, only passing out when Mum got too close.
"Maybe your children do, but mine get the mental health they deserve when adults like you fall short," Miss Diane replied unimpressed, eyes flicking over to where Ginny was sitting, trying to make herself smaller.
"Your children? She's not yours."
George squeezed a tensed fist, Fred grimaced and Ron sank into his chair, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Hermione hid behind her book.
"She would be," Miss Diane snapped icily and Hope's head shot up, gaping. "I'd adopt her in a heartbeat if I didn't have to deal with meddlesome show-boating wizards." She knelt suddenly, giving only Hope her attention. "Now, darling, when you come home for Christmas we'll go through my old boxes and see if there's any of my clothes you like that will fit you better than that old thing—"
"I like this," Hope complained, tugging on her too-big shirt.
"It's still a bit big on you," Miss Diane smiled. "And then we'll go shopping for anything else you'd like."
Hope blushed brightly. "Oh, well, um, you don't—"
"And you must be George?" Miss Diane held out a hand to him, smiling broadly. "Hope's told me a lot about you."
George beamed, ears red. "Yeah?" Hope avoided his gaze, turning, if possible, even redder. "Awful things?"
"Absolutely horrible," Miss Diane laughed. "My girl can handle herself, but I'm obligated to inform you that if you hurt her, my son Dean is under orders to hex you something awful."
"I can hex him myself," Hope grumbled, nettled, but she still permitted Diane to kiss the top of her head, sliding her sunglasses back into place.
"Be the chaos you want to see in the world, boys," Miss Diane smirked before making a peace sign and walking out.
"Dean's mum is amazing," Fred said in absolute awe. "Can I marry her?"
Dean, who had arrived long enough to hug his mum goodbye, glowered at him. "Mum doesn't date men."
Mrs. Weasley choked on her tongue while Hope sniggered into her pumpkin juice. "I'm sure Angie'll be relieved."
Fred pinked as they all laughed.
Dean was heading to bed when he paused outside what must've been Hope's room, because he could hear her inside, talking to someone, sounding frustrated and confused. He couldn't help but knock. "Hope? You doing okay?"
There was silence and then the door opened and Hope's face was pale. "Nath's in the hospital," she said raggedly, scattered. "I've-I've got to—" And then she was rushing around, shoving her clothes into her trunk with all her books. Hedwig hooted in concern on top of her cage. "Hedwig, you go on ahead—" She took off easily and Hope shoved the cage into her trunk, tapping it with her wand, shrinking it so she could pocket it, and then zipping her wand into a hidden pocket inside her jacket.
"I'll come with you," Dean said to her quickly, remembering all his mother's warnings about never going out after dark without a partner. "Lemme just— don't go anywhere—" And he darted over to his and Seamus' room, to let him know, leaving his best mate with his trunk, tucking his own wand into his jacket. "All right, let's go."
Hope didn't say anything as they quietly made their way down the stairs and were halfway to the parlor and the door that lay beyond, when Hope grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop, forcing him to listen in.
It sounded like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley -Dean had been hearing all about his mum's snide comments to Mrs. Weasley all night- and they were arguing.
"It makes no sense not to tell her," Mr. Weasley whispered testily, his voice only echoing slightly in the darkness. "Hope has the right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Hope like a child. She's thirteen years old and—"
"Arthur, the truth would terrify her!" Mrs. Weasley hissed back, making Hope frown slightly in confusion. "Do you really want to send Hope back to school with that hanging over her? For heaven's sake, she's happy not knowing!"
"I don't want to make her miserable," Mr. Weasley refuted, "I want to put her on her guard! You know what sort of trouble those three get into! Hope's ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice already, and Ron once! But Hope mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to her that night she ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked her up, I'm prepared to bet that she would have been dead before the Ministry found her. And she spent nearly the whole summer off on her own…if she'd known…"
Dean and Hope shared a stunned, befuddled look.
"But she's not dead," Mrs. Weasley insisted, "she's fine, she's better than fine, so what's the point—"
"Molly." It sounded like Mr. Weasley was straining to remain calm with his wife. "They say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than we are inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after—"
"But Hope will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."
Hope's heart fell straight down into her stomach. What?
"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe," Mr. Weasley said bitterly. "If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."
"But no one's really sure that Black's after Hope—"
Hope flinched back slightly both from the words and from the echoing sound of a fist colliding with wood. Dean ground his teeth together.
"Molly," he said, his voice even more carefully controlled than before, "how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same two words: 'At Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Hope dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Hope will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Hope stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that."
Dean opened his mouth, but Hope was already turning her hair jet black and dragging him quietly out the door to hail the first cab she could find.
She didn't talk for the longest time, not until she was sitting in the hospital room, curled next to Nathaniel Lord's slumbering form. Dean had never met Hope's godfather, but he'd always seemed unbelievably kind, not the kind of person who would have enemies to put him in a hospital.
"They think he was stabbed," Hope said hollowly. "No one even saw it…how the hell does no one see something like that?"
Dean shrugged helplessly. "They think he's gonna be okay, though?"
"Yeah, 'course he'll be fine," Hope said roughly, beginning to hum softly, a tune that Dean vaguely remembered.
"I think my mum's ex used to sing that," he said, trying to be conversational.
"Your dad?"
Dean frowned. "Don't think I ever had a dad, to be perfectly honest."
Hope paused and then she nodded in agreement. She'd thought Dean was adopted to begin with, because the likeliness of Diane being with a man was the lowest of the low, but it made sense; not everyone identified with the gender they were assigned at birth.
"…are you worried about what the Weasleys said?" he asked. "About Sirius Black?"
Hope sighed tiredly. "If I got worried every time someone tried to kill me, I'd never sleep."
"You don't sleep much anyways."
Hope wrinkled her nose at him. "I'll deal with it later."
"Bet you five galleons we miss the train tomorrow," Dean said, settling in for the night.
"Don't worry," Hope muttered mutinously into the sheet. "I've got a broom."
It was so stupid. He hadn't been thinking, but he'd felt the spell as it ran through him and Nath hadn't been able to help staring at the rich red of the blood pouring out of him and thinking "You know, I don't really fancy the color".
And poor Hope, she looked terrible when he'd awoken to tell her if she needed a bed, he would've just bought one for her. She'd looked caught somewhere between completely furious and about to burst into tears.
Dean bore a lot of resemblance to his mother, Nath had to admit grudgingly, a blessing and a curse. He prayed that the boy never met his absentee mother but the likeness that he would was growing with each passing day.
"You two have already missed your train," he reminded them when Hope wanted to stay longer. "If you stay any longer, you'll never catch up."
"But—" Hope huffed, her eyes fiery, but the stern look he gave her might as well be patented. She grumbled, pulling on her jacket. "Come on, Dean, if the old man wants to be alone…"
"Oi! I'm not old!" Which wasn't entirely true, he was certainly far older than he looked, but he wasn't about to tell Hope that.
She rolled her eyes, shoving Dean out the door before he was properly awake, shooting him an incredibly petulant expression.
"Be safe!" Nath called after her, which she ignored. But she'd be all right.
Augustus Rookwood, however, was marked for death and had been moved to the top of his list overnight. He allowed himself a private smirk.
Remus Lupin had fallen asleep on the train, and was rudely awakened by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. He kept his eyes closed, hoping he'd be lulled back to sleep.
"Who d'you reckon he is?" a boy hissed, the door shutting after him.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," a girl replied almost immediately.
"How'd you know that?"
"It's on his suitcase, Ronald," she sighed, undoubtedly pointing to it.
"Wonder what he teaches?" Ronald wondered instead.
"That's obvious. There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Well, I hope he's up to it," Ronald replied doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?...But never mind that, you didn't see Hope board the train, did you?"
Remus struggled not to react to the name.
"No, I think she must've missed it," the girl fretted, "maybe she and Dean are still at the hospital with her godfather…have you ever met him?"
Remus twitched slightly at the mention of 'godfather' trying not to remember Sirius Black, young and happy and cradling a small Hope Potter against his chest, delighted by her babbling.
"Nah, but he's gotta be special for her to go back to a hospital, willingly," Ronald conceded. "Did you see Mum and Dad's faces when they heard she'd run off?"
"Yeah…they didn't look pleased," the girl noted. "But, I mean, how much trouble can she get into in a hospital."
"Don't jinx it," Ronald said wisely and Remus lost track of the conversation, falling back asleep.
Broomsticks weren't nearly as uncomfortable as Dean had originally thought, thought it still wasn't what he would call an eventful ride, holding tight to Hope's waist, tightening his grip when the wind jostled them too much.
He used to dream about becoming a raven and soaring through the skies and this was about as close as he'd ever get to that dream, he reckoned…unless he wanted to be like Professor McGonagall and become a raven animagus, which frankly sounded like a lot more trouble than it was worth.
But Hope was an excellent flier, which he'd known from watching her play Quidditch, but sometimes you couldn't account for something coming out of nowhere, like a jet of green light colliding with Hope's head and Dean didn't have a chance to shout in alarm before they were dropping into a dive and Hope tumbled off it completely to fall motionlessly against the ground.
Dean scrambled to her side, not even considering pulling out his wand. "Hope! Hope! Nonononono—"
Her brow was split, like the spell had hit her scar and made it spread, cracking like lightning across her forehead. He couldn't even tell if she was breathing because in that moment he'd looked up and fear coiled deep inside him, writhing and recoiling.
It was the tree.
It was the fucking tree!
Dean had sketched the likeness of the Blood-Soaked Tree so many times, too many to count, the parted trunk, the burned bark, stained with blood that never seemed to dry. He'd papered his room with them growing up until his mother removed them. God, he couldn't look at it, there was a more pressing issue, like the man in dark robes striding towards him with his wand drawn.
It slashed through the air and Hope moved.
Hope heard voices before anything else. She felt so unbelievable small and cradled by gentle arms. "Hope, hm?" came a voice so achingly familiar yet Hope couldn't quite place it in the moment. "A good name, a strong name for a child with a destiny like this one."
"Give her back," a second voice seethed quietly.
Hope struggled to hear the rest.
"…I haven't killed the living in a while, Deal-Breaker, don't make me start."
Hope's eyes shot open and she had to take in everything in a matter of seconds. The man advancing towards a stunned Dean, the malevolent Tree from her nightmares, so Hope did what only felt natural; she threw herself in front of him, using her weight to push him back as the white spell passed through the air.
Hope felt it connect rather than saw it, sharp pain burning across her throat, the blood gushing from the wound as she gave rattling gasps for air.
There were a lot of things Hope could've done right then. She could've frozen until Death took her, she could've frozen in the sight of the Blood-Soaked Tree, but Hope didn't do any of those things.
She clutched at her throat, unable to articulate the word 'heal' the only rune she'd carved into her skin, but she didn't need to, she could feel it glowing hot against her skin, so she reached behind her to the pocket knife Nath had given her and flung it.
But the problem with fighting with muggle weapons when your opponent was a wizard who could clearly see them coming, meant that faster than Hope could blink, her own knife was buried in her left thigh.
And then he was on them and Hope blinked and they were knee deep in the Black Lake and somehow, she was holding a pitch-black blade and it was buried in the man's throat.
He stumbled back, eyes stretched wide in horror and Hope pulled it out, Dean behind her, dragging her to shore.
And, like scenting blood, the Giant Squid broke through the surface and its tentacles wrapped around the struggling body and dragging him under until Hope could see an audible gulp.
"What the fuck," Hope managed out emphatically, her voice rough and raw, her neck aching fiercely.
"I think I almost pissed myself," Dean said weakly. "I'm not gonna sleep for a week."
"I'll keep you company," Hope ground out, barely noticing when he dragged her into a hug that made his shoulders shake. Hope was more used to spontaneous acts of violence, so she just patted his shoulder kindly, examining the blade behind his back.
It was cooler than Godric Gryffindor's, that was for sure, pitch black and with a hilt like spread raven wings, positioned down as it beat against the wind.
Hope was definitely keeping it.
"Holy—your leg—"
Hope looked down at the knife embedded there. "Can't really feel it, to be honest…neck's worse, I think."
Dean looked from her neck down to the blood staining her front.
"You still got my broom?" Hope asked in her same rough voice.
"You-you idiot! You almost died and you're worrying about—!" He rubbed at his face furiously.
Hope shrugged helplessly.
Hope hadn't even shown up by the time the Sorting had concluded and Dumbledore had begun his speech and Hermione glanced down the table to where George was sitting with his twin and she could see his concerned frown.
Ron was mentally planning for the worst, given Hope's penchant for getting into trouble by doing nothing.
"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business," Dumbledore explained seriously from the front of the Great Hall. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks."
Ron and Hermione shared a glance, thinking of Hope's cloak.
"It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you—"
"YOU WANNA GO YOU RAGGEDY FUCK!" was roared not too far away and everyone in the hall froze for the longest moment until a figure, slightly assisting the second stumbled through the great double doors.
Dean certainly looked like he'd been through the wringer, soaked to the bone and utterly exhausted, but Hope put him to shame, looking like a vengeful banshee at his side, blood-stained from a cut to her throat and more blood dripping down from her brow, a knife in her leg, and a blade in her hand.
"You've got some infestation, Headmaster," she grumbled, her voice raw. "How many times do I gotta be killed tonight?"
"You only died once, stop being dramatic," Dean muttered beside her and Hope's eyes twitched.
"If I got a knut for every time I was killed, Dean, I'd have three knuts, which isn't that much but it's still weird that its happened three times," Hope replied dryly, "and if I wanted to deal with my depression kicking my ass, I'd go off my meds."
"If you go off your meds to prove a point, I'll kick your ass," Dean promised.
"Bring it on, Thomas." Hope bared her teeth and she had never looked so out of place, so unearthly. "Sorry we're late, I was murdered and Dean was collateral damage, but I think I lost a lot of blood, so I'm gonna pass out now."
And right on cue, her knees buckled and her eyes rolled back in her head. And it seemed Dean had the same idea, because they both fell to the ground in a dead faint, leaving the entire hall gaping at them.
Deep in the darkest parts of the castle, lips curved into an amused smile. These were the kind of games they enjoyed so much.
How many times had they played 'kill me if you can?'. They'd honestly lost track. And she was so good at it…but they couldn't very well let her know what they were doing by attacking all the time, that wouldn't make the game very fun.
And they liked fun and games, especially the kind that piled bodies.
They whispered a spell and sent the folded-up parchment on its way, lodging deep into Hope Potter's trunk where it would lay forgotten for a year.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"I didn't." One palm landed on the back of her opposite hand and the guard was asleep faster than Diane could blink. She curved one hand and snapped, the magic rippling, putting the cameras on a loop.
It was more magic than she usually used and she knew She was going to notice, but Diane couldn't quite bring herself to care as she took the stairs into the first file room that unlocked at the wave of her hand, diving into the stacks.
"You're using an awful lot of magic, dear heart," came that familiar, musing voice that once sent shivers down her spine.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Diane muttered, flicking through the papers, looking for anything with Hope's name in it. "It's not for me anyways."
"No," Morrigan agreed, "it's for the girl from the broken home, the God-Touched Child."
Diane paused, turning around slowly to meet those hypnotic, dark eyes, that sly mouth, cloaked in raven feathers as she was. "God-Touched?" she repeated. "No, she can't be…she's human, she'd never survive—"
"Is she?" Morrigan quirked an amused eyebrow. "Difficult to find out with a dead family, I suppose."
Diane glowered at her. "That's an old belief, I don't believe in it."
"Yet you believe in the Beast With No Name?" Morrigan was unimpressed.
"Of course, I do—"
"Only because you saw Him…you saved those children, you took them to the Neitherlands—"
"Well, they were godlings, weren't they?" Diane snapped. "Surely they, surely Dean—"
"Godlings are blessings of gods, someone who is God-Touched has a seed planted inside them, only they can grow it into something more." Morrigan snapped and in Diane's hands was a large pile of papers, all with Hope's name on them. "It keeps her alive, just as it could kill her in years to come; that is its nature. She is my Claimed child, but I will bring unneeded danger into her life. She and Dean will be safe from Otherworldly dangers until they reach seventeen…nearly seventeen, I concede, He will attempt nothing further."
"Further?" Diane questioned fiercely.
Morrigan's mouth twisted wryly. "Hope's a warrior, she and Dean were attacked but they're fine…its always been more of a game to Him than anything else."
Diane's hand clenched into a tight fist. "My kids are attacked and they don't even say anything?" she snarled. "Those assholes! I'm gonna kill them!"
"I would enjoy that," Morrigan nearly purred. "Immensely."
Diane growled at her. "You don't get to do that. Not anymore."
"You could come back." Morrigan's lips brushed against the curve of her neck and Diane struggled not to melt. "We had so much fun, dear heart…the two of us together…we made stars collide, we created art from blank canvas and painted the skies." Her hands were on Diane's hips, pulling her more firmly against Morrigan's chest. Diane felt herself relaxing, sighing as she tilted her neck to the side, the smallest moan leaving her as Morrigan sucked hard. "I could make you so much more…"
Diane shook herself violently, pulling herself out of Morrigan's arms. She'd offered that before, but to be ageless when her son couldn't be…surely there was nothing worse? "You know my thoughts on that."
"Hm…" Morrigan's eyes gleamed, like she'd known it wouldn't work, but enjoying how much Diane had been tempted all the same.
Diane looked down at the papers in her hands. So many incident reports…so many documentations on Hope's injuries and accusations and all of them swept under the rug by some doctor…an A. Dumbledore. Diane scowled fiercely.
"Do you love her?" She asked Morrigan before she could leave. "Your Claimed?"
A muscle jumped in Morrigan's jaw and for a moment she looked honestly angry. "Do I love my child? Tell me Diane, do you love ours?"
"That's not what I meant," Diane huffed.
"If I were to remove her from her so-called family, she would be back with them in a matter of hours. There are other forces at work here, ones that wish her to play a very specific piece in a chess game only a puppet master can see." Morrigan sighed heavily, looking wearier than Diane had ever seen her. "But I do love her…just as I love Dean. I know you won't give him my love, but know that I am thinking of him."
Diane remembered their last fight, Dean barely an hour old. "There are some things you can't protect him from, Diane."
And when she looked back to her, she'd gone, and all Diane could do was sigh.
"Look, they wrote an article…An unconfirmed attack on two Hogwarts students by former Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood, imprisoned in Azkaban since he was discovered to be a Death Eater passing valuable intel to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during the War. Both students were largely unharmed and will make a full recovery…well, I guess they didn't say your name, so that's helpful," Ron muttered while Hope ignored the attention fixated on her, spreading jam on her toast without a care.
She was earning a lot of stares, but what could she do? She and Dean had been interrogated, politely, but interrogated nonetheless, had picked out their attacker from a slew of pictures, and had slept fitfully. There was a thick bandage around Hope's brow, something which still made Madam Pomfrey uneasy, but there was only one spell that precise shade of green; Hope surviving a second Killing Curse had spread like wildfire.
"How's your throat?" Hermione asked apprehensively. She could see the thin scar across Hope's throat. Madam Pomfrey had said it was a miracle she could heal it so neatly, given the dark nature of the spell, but it had cut deep and there were doubts that her voice would ever be the same. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No," Hope said patiently. "I'm fine."
She probably wasn't fine, but that was neither here nor there, because Hope had classes, lots of classes, some of which required the Time Turner that she was now sharing with Hermione. Personally, Hope thought she'd give it a year and then drop Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, because Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes sounded far more interesting.
"If I was given the option to miss out on a few days of school, I'd take that up in a heartbeat," Ron said dryly.
"I'm taking more classes than you," Hope retorted, "I can't just miss a few days, I'll get way behind and I doubt Snape's gonna be that understanding about it."
George slid into the seat beside her, pressing an easy kiss to her bandaged temple. "Doing all right?"
"I'll manage," Hope grumbled around her toast.
"People are asking if you really killed a dementor," Fred added, grinning as he sat across from his twin.
Dementors, Hope had learned, were the terribly ragged creatures that had tried to have a go at her and Dean. Apparently they could suck your soul out and Hope was certain if she hadn't been numbed beyond belief and so unbelievably wrathful, she would've been frightened; as it was, she hadn't had the time to do anything other than run it through with the sword that she'd hid deep in her trunk, wary of having it removed for safety reasons.
"I will neither confirm nor deny," Hope muttered mutinously, quite done with the gossip and not really seeing how she was getting a lot of attention for not being killed by miraculous effort.
"Hope, did you really stab someone?"
"Hope, did you really get hit with another Killing Curse?"
"Hope—"
She was irked and annoyed and everyone was talking about how the guy was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers, but all she could think was: What was one of Voldemort's followers doing with the Blood-Soaked Tree?
Dean was just relieved to be safe and sound, so she didn't want to bring it up.
"You're looking tired," George noticed, his brow furrowed. "Maybe you could've just taken today off."
"I'll manage," Hope waved him off, kissing his cheek lightly. "See you around, Georgie. We've got Divination to head off to." And then the trio were gone.
Lee snorted. "Lucky you two got yourselves sorted out before term started…you haven't heard what some of the other lads are saying, have you?"
George scowled fiercely. He'd heard them. Someone had called Hope's voice 'sexy' and a few others had commented on how well her jeans had fit her the previous day. The idea of calling a thirteen-year-old witch whose voice box was damaged from Dark Magic as having a sexy voice now was annoying and appalling. George couldn't understand it.
Did he think she was a badass? Absolutely.
Did he also think she might be two steps from a breakdown? Probably.
Was he going to tell his not-quite-yet girlfriend that her voice was sexy? No! Because he wasn't a goddamn creeper and had basic common sense!
He stifled his grumbles into his pumpkin juice.
Their first class was Divination, but, unfortunately, none of them knew quite where the North Tower was located. Also, unfortunately, they had acquired the help of a knight in a painting, and he was, as they soon discovered, quite mad. In the end, Hope was starting to wonder if the class was even worth it if it was so high up in one of the spires, and Hermione and Ron couldn't help but agree with her there.
Professor Trelawney was an oddity, and that was putting it in simple terms.
Hope didn't like her mainly because she was sure she was allergic to the perfume that she had used to fill the room, making her sneeze violently at random intervals, and the one time Professor Trelawney brushed against her, she'd felt uncommonly like she'd been burned, but she was probably imagining it.
"Gods, that's revolting!" Hope gagged after she downed the tea, since they were reading tea leaves, and all. "This mud passes for tea?"
Ron couldn't help but agree with her there. "Best get it over with."
"They better be serving something really good at lunch, is all I'm saying," Hope said in disgust as they switched teacups, "I need something to wash down this filth."
Ron sniggered. "Right, what can you see in mine?"
"A load of brown junk that shouldn't be in teacups in the first place," Hope informed him solemnly, "you're sure this isn't poison?"
"No," Ron said, staring into her cup, "but if it's any consolation, if you die, I die."
"The definition of true friendship," Hope drawled.
"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Trelawney cried with a dramatic air that was now serving to provide Hope with a massive headache.
Hope grumbled slightly before finally opening up her Unfogging the Future and staring dubiously between the cup and her book. "Okay, so you've got a tilting cross, and that means…you're going to have some 'trials of suffering', my sympathies, mate," Ron sniggered at her inserted commentary, "and you've got a sun here, so…'great happiness'…so you're going to suffer, but you should be very happy about it."
"Well, I think you need your Inner Eye checked," Ron said, trying to hide a snort before inspecting her cup. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat, so maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic…but if you flip it, it looks like an acorn…and that's…'a windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some…" Hope smirked slightly. "…and there's a thing here that looks like an animal…maybe a hippo? No…a sheep?"
"Maybe you need your eyesight checked," Hope said, "if you can't tell the difference between a sheep and a hippo."
"Let me see that, my dear," Trelawney said, swooping over to their table like an overgrown bird and snatching Hope's cup from Ron's grip. "The falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy."
"But everyone knows that," Hermione scoffed, making Ron and Hope, and possibly everyone else in the room turn and stare at her. "Well, they do. Everyone knows about Hope and You-Know-Who."
"Hermione," Hope said in a whisper, "I need you to know that I kind fell a little in love with you because you said that to a teacher."
Hermione pulled a Hope and rolled her eyes at her friend, small patches of pink appearing on her cheeks as Trelawney continued with her reading of Hope's tea leaves. "The club…an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"
"That must have been the bowler hat," Ron hissed out of the corner of his mouth to Hermione and Hope; Hope's mouth twitched faintly.
"The skull," Trelawney continued as though she could not hear them having a whispered conversation in front of her, which was entirely possible, now that Hope thought about it, "danger in your path, my dear."
"Danger's always in my path," Hope grumbled, thinking of the previous day, "I don't need tea leaves to tell me that."
Hermione cracked a faint smile at that comment, but was interrupted by Trelawney gasping and screaming.
"Oh, what's wrong, now?" Hope demanded, her semblance of a good mood short circuiting.
"My dear girl…my poor, dear girl…no…it is kinder not to say…no…don't ask me…"
Right, because that was going to keep anyone from asking her, wasn't it? She was practically begging someone to ask her what she had read that was so awful in Hope's tea leaves. Well, Hope wasn't going to do it, so better get used to disappointment.
Unfortunately for her, it was Dean that instead asked, "What is it, Professor?" and then enough people crowded around Hope, Ron, and Hermione's desk that Hope was beginning to get uncomfortable.
"My dear," Trelawney said, the drama still obvious and in her voice, "you have the Grim."
This did not have the appropriate effect on her, unlike what Trelawney had hoped.
"What the bloody hell is a Grim?" she demanded, because a large number of the class had pressed their hands to their mouths in horror or had gone white; some had done both.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" Trelawney cried, shaking her hands before her slightly as if hoping shaking them would cause her to understand. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear girl, it is an omen –the worst omen– of death!"
And miles away a great black dog raced, his forepaws and hind-paws smacking against the ground as he made for Hogwarts with only one thing on his mind; his goddaughter.
Hope was more than a little eager to get out of the North Tower and make her way down to Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was funnier than usual, though this was mostly due to her disapproval of Trelawney, but it still made Hope feel a bit better when she left Transfiguration for Ancient Runes with Hermione. This was one of the classes that she was really looking forward to, so she hoped that it wouldn't disappoint.
The classroom was a bit awing, that much Hope and Hermione could agree on. There was Egyptian hieroglyphics, Scandinavian Norse, and Ancient Greek as well as a number of other symbols that Hope couldn't even come close to understanding strewn throughout the room.
"This…" Hope said in amazement, "is so cool!"
"No kidding!"
Hope twisted around at the voice and grinned. "Hey, Parv– oh, sorry, I almost thought you were your sister!"
Padma Patil was identical to her twin sister, much like George was identical to Fred, but the differences were far more obvious with Padma and Parvati than they were with Fred and George. Padma was obviously in Ravenclaw House, so she wore blue instead of the red that Parvati wore. Padma's clothes were a bit loose on her and far more modest than her sister's uniform, and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail.
"That happens a lot," Padma assured her, before switching her books to her other hand and holding the free one out to shake. "I'm Padma."
"Hope," she said squeezing it with her own.
"Hermione," her friend added beside her when Padma extended her hand to her as well.
"It's nice to meet you," Padma said politely. "My sister's mentioned you two a few times."
Hope smirked. "Anything good?"
"That would depend on the day," Padma said with a slight smile.
"Find your seats!" a female voice called out into the room and Hope and Hermione quickly grabbed one of the seats closest to the front.
The woman who taught Ancient Runes was not a stern-faced woman, like Professor McGonagall was. Her hair was a light brown, set in wild curls around her face and her cheeks dimpled as she smiled.
"Hello and welcome to the Study of Ancient Runes!" she called out with a bright grin. "My name is Bathsheda Babbling, we will begin with roll call!"
As soon as she had checked everyone's name down, she smiled warmly once more, sitting on her desk in a fashion that would have scandalized Professor McGonagall. "This is a class that delves into the mysteries of the past and unearths the languages that have been long forgotten," she told them, "the main focus of your first years in this subject will be translation and eventually we will touch on warding and barrier-erection that you might find in your future occupations. We will begin this semester with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Today you will be given a specific hieroglyph that I want you to research and find its meaning, an ancient text in which it is used, and what it represented to the Ancient Egyptians.
"Now if everyone would open to chapter one in their books, we will begin with the first recorded history of the hieroglyphs…"
"I'm sure my hand will recover eventually," Hope said as she and Hermione left the class to meet Ron for lunch (as he had had a free period while they were in Ancient Runes and had mocked them a little about it).
Hermione rolled her eyes at the red-haired girl. "Oh, please, it wasn't that hard."
Hope gave her a dumbfounded expression. "Maybe you weren't in the same class as me, Hermione, but that woman can write and talk at the same time and she does them both pretty fast!"
"Like I said," Hermione continued, her voice tinged with amusement, "it wasn't that hard."
Hope mouthed wordlessly at her before shaking her limp hand at her friend. "Look at it! It's got permanent damage!"
"Have George give it a kiss to make it better!" Hermione fired back.
"What am I kissing?"
Both girls blushed at George's sudden voice, his arm sliding into place around her shoulders.
"Nothing!" they said quickly and Hermione made a quick getaway before Hope could threaten more violence.
"Traitor!" she yelled after her friend. "I'll get you, Hermione! Just you wait!"
"Do I want to know what you two were talking about?" George asked in amusement, his arm dropping to wrap around her waist instead, before ducking his head to meet her lips with his, giving her the lightest kiss.
"Probably better to not ask," she admitted, giving him a wink, "ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, and all."
"Ooh, you troublemaker," he said with a smirk, "stealing my own words!"
"Easy to steal things when they aren't well-guarded." Hope's eyes gleamed brightly, sinking into the arm around her waist. It was nice, nicer than she'd care to admit.
"Sure," George drawled out. "By the way, do you know why Ron looked like something was going to drop dead in front of him?"
"Dunno," Hope said with a frown, "unless he's still freaked out about that Grim thing."
George froze in place, dragging Hope to a stop as well. "What Grim thing?"
Hope glanced up to meet his eyes and was surprised at how uncharacteristically serious his face was. "George? What's wrong?"
"What Grim thing?" he repeated.
"It's just something that Trelawney saw in my teacup, that's all," she said, not quite understanding what the big deal was. "Why?"
A nervous laugh left his lips, startling Hope who had never heard such a sound from him before. "You do know what the Grim represents, don't you?"
"Trelawney said it was an omen of death," Hope said slowly.
"You haven't seen any recently, have you?" he asked her, searching her with his eyes as if looking for signs that she had. "Any great black dogs?"
"Yeah," Hope said, recalling the dog at Privet Drive, "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'." Her eyes met his. "But it was probably my imagination," she said dismissively, but George didn't look so convinced.
"Our Uncle Bilius saw a Grim once," George said, still serious, "and he died twenty-four hours later."
Hope frowned. Was the Grim really that scary? It was hard to be scared of great black dogs when the Blood-Soaked Tree and dementors were hanging around; Hope knew which scared her more. "But I saw it weeks ago," she reminded him, "and I'm still alive, so don't worry. That one was probably a stray." She stood on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek.
She knew what he was thinking about, though. She was almost killed the previous day, she and Dean both…but that wasn't connected, was it?
"If you keep worrying about it," she called over her shoulder as she began to walk away, "then I'm not going to want to go on that date!"
She laughed when she heard him splutter.
By the time Hope, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to Hagrid's cabin, Ron and Hermione weren't speaking. From what Ron insinuated, she gathered that it had something to do with the Grim. It seemed that they had a similar conversation to the one that she and George had had. Only Hermione had disregarded Ron's concerns completely, which was a little rude, Hope had to think to herself. It was kind of like saying that his uncle died for no reason.
That was one thing you never wanted to say about anyone.
"C'mon, now, get a move on!" Hagrid called as they milled around the cabin. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right follow me!"
"If we're going into the forest again, I'm skiving," Ron muttered in her ear, making Hope smile. They had had to go into the Forbidden Forest just last year to talk to the giant Acromantula by the name of Aragog concerning the Chamber of Secrets, and Hope had been hoping that they wouldn't have to go back quite so soon.
But, luckily, they only went by the edge of the forest to an empty paddock that Hope had never seen before.
"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" Hagrid called, clearly very excited about his first class. "That's it –make sure yeh can see– now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"
"How?" That disgusted drawl could belong to only one person; Hope's archenemy, Draco Malfoy. She was secretly hoping that he would have cooled his heels over the holiday, but that was turning into a vain dream.
"Eh?" Hagrid asked in confusion.
"How do we open our books?" Malfoy said in annoyance.
Hagrid glanced around to all of The Monster Book of Monsters that his students held, noticing how they had them bound in rope or Spellotape or a belt like Hope. "Hasn' –hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" he asked, to which he received a unison shake of the head. "Yeh've got ter stroke 'em! Look—"
Using Hermione's book as an example, he tore the Spellotape that bound it shut and ignored the book as it tried to bite him, running a finger down its spine.
Hope couldn't help but gape as the book shivered and fell open in his hand, seeming to have all the bite taken out of it.
"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy bit out, his lips curling into an unattractive sneer that instantly made Hope want to smack it off his face with her fist. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"
"Shut your fat mouth, Malfoy," Hope snapped, "before I—"
"Before you what? Collapse?" Malfoy smirked as the rest of the class fell silent, waiting on baited breath, wanting to see who came out on top, ignoring the sounds of Hagrid lumbering off to get the 'monster' they were going to study.
Hope scoffed unimpressed, reaching into her bag to pull out her abalone knife, flipping it open, sharp edge glinting and long cleaned of her blood. "How about I slit your throat and stab your leg and see how well you do, because I'm pretty sure you'll die rather than collapse, you witless worm."
Malfoy took a step back and a few people coughed uncomfortably. It was one thing to poke fun at Hope for surviving the Killing Curse when she was a baby -if you were feeling particularly cruel, given that the event orphaned her-, it was another thing when she'd survived three murder attempts in three years and lived to tell the tale.
A kid surviving by a fluke didn't have much to stand on, a kid that stepped in front of a friend and took an Avada Kedavra and a spell to her throat had a bit more weight.
Hope's smirk was darker. "I might've collapsed from blood loss, but at least I didn't get so scared that I ran into my boyfriend's compartment and nearly wet my pants 'cause I was so scared." That's what Fred had said anyways, he'd been vindictively pleased and George had been as well, both remembering how depressed she'd been the previous year from the slimy git.
She hadn't meant to use the word boyfriend, she wasn't quite sure what she and George were yet, but it was the best word to describe them.
For those who hadn't heard that, it was incredibly hilarious. Seamus and Dean in particular were rolling around in the grass laughing until tears came out of their eyes.
Hope's smirk widened at the pale flush that had crept up Malfoy's neck to cover his cheeks, but before he had a chance to give her a verbal retaliation, Lavender distracted them by crying "Oooooh!"
The creatures that Hagrid had chosen for his first lesson were beautiful in an incredibly bizarre and strange way. They had the bodies of horses, front legs, wings, and heads of eagles. Hope had never seen something like them before in her life.
She could tell that some of her classmates didn't agree, by the way they backed away slightly.
"Hippogriffs! Beau'iful, aren' they?" Hagrid said with a beaming smile, and Hope had to agree with him there.
"Now," he said, beginning his first lecture, "firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it may be the last thing yeh do." He gestured to the hippogriff with beautiful feathers as grey as storm clouds. "This here is Buckbeak, now who would like to say hello?"
Hope didn't notice how the whole class had taken a large step back, so when Hagrid smiled and said "Well done, Hope, well done!"
Hope reined in her scowl towards her friends, shoving off her cloak and making her way forward with a stubborn stomp. Hagrid was always a 'throw into the wild for fun' kind of person and maybe he thought some chaos would be good after the shock she'd just had.
Maybe not the best idea, but Hope was in too deep now.
"Easy, now, Hope," Hagrid warned once she'd gotten a little close to the hippogriff. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink…Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"
Great, Hope thought malevolently to herself, that's just great Hagrid, thanks for letting me know.
Buckbeak's eyes were a fierce and fiery orange and Hope accidentally turned her own eyes to the same color, making the half-horse, half-eagle cant its head slightly at her, but it made no move to attack her, so that was good.
"Tha's it," Hagrid said, obviously pleased that she hadn't been attacked (oh, joy), "Tha's it, Hope…now, bow…"
That didn't seem like such a good idea, to Hope, but she did as he said, bending over slightly at the waist whilst still straining to not blink her orange eyes, which were growing waterier with every passing second.
For a moment nothing happened, and then Buckbeak sank into a bow as well.
"Well done! You can go and pat him now!"
Hope gave him a shaky smile, but she moved forward (though it was much more slowly than she had been originally approaching him). Only her affection for Hagrid would make her do this, she told herself, anyone else and she probably would have told them to screw off.
But she still outstretched her hand towards the hippogriff, taking one step at a time, ready to pull her hand back in case he thought it was his next treat. After a few tentative clicks of his beak, he consented to allow her to press a hand to his face, under his large eye and next to his beak.
She sighed in relief, patting the feathers there gently as applause erupted behind her.
"I reckon he might let you ride him!"
"What?" Hope's face lost all of its color as Hagrid hoisted her off of the ground. "Wait- hey- Hagrid! This is a bad—"
He dumped her onto Buckbeak's back and she barely had any time to right herself.
"Don't pull out any of his feathers," he warned, "'cause he won't thank you for that!" And then he smacked Buckbeak's hindquarters with one of his massive hands. Hope had to clutch violently at Buckbeak's neck as he rushed forward, flapping his wings under her as he rose into the air, going higher and higher until he was above. That was the point that Hope finally opened her eyes once more and actually looked around her. She had always thought the view from a broom was the best, but this, this definitely topped that.
She laughed out loud as the wind whistled past her body as they flew up and up; circling the spires of the castle before going into a few small dives that made giggles bubble from her lips. This sort of flying was something else entirely, even if it did feel a bit strange. Something about it seemed more…magical than riding a broomstick.
Dumbledore was going over school records, unable to help himself, comparing Tom Riddle's to Hope Potter's…and he was finding so many unfortunate similarities. Of course, Hope had never been an overachiever, that was Hermione Granger, but she was top of the class in Defense Against the Dark Arts -when taught competently- and was fairly skilled in Charms and Transfiguration. She had chosen four electives, unable to settle on two, like Hermione had, though she'd opted for Muggle Studies.
He'd been so reluctant to allow one student, let alone two, the use of a Time Turner to go to multiple classes at the same time, and the fact that Hope happened to be one of them didn't settle comfortably to Dumbledore.
And then that attack on September first…he had known Lily and James must've enchanted Hope, spells of protection…they'd been utterly brilliant at spell creation, particularly James…such a shame. But that could've explained Hope's survival, barring the possibility he was still considering…
But even if her parents had enchanted her, that didn't really explain how she survived the previous day. She should've been dead, but she wasn't.
And there was a blood rune carved on the inside of her wrist.
It all gave Dumbledore a very ill feeling.
"You have a lot of nerve."
He looked up in surprise to see two unfamiliar figures. The one who had spoken was a furious woman with dark skin, and a nearly bald head, who was imposing as she was beautiful, but the second one was more…confusing.
Dumbledore honestly couldn't tell if they were male, female, or something else entirely. Yellow-lensed glasses were situated on a button nose, hair in thick multi-colored dreadlocks, dressed in a muggle fashion so very different from their companion.
"How did you get in here?" he asked in surprise, vaguely startled.
"I called in a favor with a Traveler," the first woman said dryly, like that explained everything. "My name is Diane Thomas. Dean is my son, do you understand where I'm going with this?"
"Ah," Dumbledore said eloquently. "The attack yesterday."
"'Ah'," Diane repeated in disdain. "'Ah' he says, you heard that right, Quinn?"
"Yup," the aforementioned Quinn responded, fingering a cigarette and not lighting it.
"And you didn't think maybe you should inform parents when their children are nearly murdered?" Diane sneered, slamming her hands down onto his desk. "A god, a god had to come up to me and tell me what happened! What is wrong with you people?"
"Ma'am," Dumbledore tried to placate her, "your son was unharmed—"
"Because he was pushed out of the way," Diane snarled. "He's not the only one I'm here for. They were both attacked and I'm told Hope's voice may never be the same again and she took a Killing Curse to the face for the second time in her very young life. Just how are you keeping my kids safe in a school surrounded by wraiths on top of murderous raving lunatics outside the walls?"
"They're dementors—"
"I don't give a shit what you're calling them here, they're soul sucking wraiths and they're caging a school!"
Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh. Quinn was wandering through the office intrigued with the various pictures, still toying with their cigarette, feigning indifference. "I protested their placement, but the Minister ordered—"
"I don't care what the Minister for Magic orders," Diane's fury wasn't close to being abated. "He doesn't have kids at a higher likelihood of losing their souls, does he? Both of mine are!"
This muggle woman fighting for her magical child and one she had no claim to would've made the old Albus, the one that had befriended Gellert Grindelwald, laugh, loudly. He remembered his reasonings to Minerva about why Hope had to stay at the Dursleys, about how being famous for something she couldn't remember…it had sounded so vain, even to him…but somehow he could sense it, something lingering, something unnatural about the child, something that even he couldn't shape and mold to his will.
Hope Potter was a force of nature outside of his control.
"Miss Thomas," he spoke carefully, "Hope Potter is well looked after by us."
"You'll have to forgive me for doubting that immensely." Diane's lips curled. "Because you left her in that hell, after every bruise, after every broken bone, after actually dying for a solid minute in that accident…you didn't just abandon her, you caged her in an abusive environment. Every time there was an investigation, you made it go away. You made an orphaned child feel worthless, and at Christmas I'm going to tell her everything you've done to destroy her life."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair slightly as Quinn slunk over to wind an arm around Diane's shoulders. "C'mon, babe," they said gently. "Let's see how the kids are doing and let the manipulative old codger stew in his juices."
Diane glared daggers, but allowed her friend to steer her out the door, getting one last rude hand gesture in before the door slammed shut behind them.
Dumbledore sank back even more so, sighing in defeat. Whatever those two were, muggle was certainly far from it…which begged the question; what exactly was Dean Thomas?
"Mum!"
"Miss Diane!"
"At least Hope looks pleased," Quinn noted, amused by Dean's surprise. "Favoritism, there."
Diane snorted, aching for a cigarette that Quinn had already lit, but she'd once tried to steal their cigarettes in school and it hadn't ended well. "But you can hear her voice."
"Yeah, sounds raw and raspy," Quinn hummed, sliding their lensed glasses down slightly to flick their only eye to Diane. "But it still works, and she's still alive…she's okay, Di."
Diane released a relieved breath.
"And Quinn! Hi, Quinn!"
Hope was beaming widely, parting from her friends to eagerly race forward and Quinn blew smoke out of their mouth quickly to accept the hug Hope bestowed on them. They'd only met a handful of times, but Quinn's childhood had been even more broken than Diane's or Hope's even, currently as it was, and they had a no-nonsense dry sarcasm that Hope enjoyed immensely and attempted to emulate as much as she could.
"How did you even get here?" Dean asked, still stuck on them being in the corridor like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Quinn wiggled their fingers. "One of my specialties. I'll tell you about it one day."
"Nice," Hope grinned broadly, the smile faltering at the severe look on Diane's face. "Oh…are we in trouble?"
"It wasn't our idea!" Dean complained in a huff. "We missed the train because Hope's godfather was in the hospital—"
"He was?" Diane arched an eyebrow. "He's an EMT."
"A minor stabbing," Hope waved it off. "We went by broom, instead, almost made it too, but some asshole shot us down—"
"With a Killing Curse," Dean interjected sharply. "She likes to downplay death—"
"I do not!" Hope complained in that raspy voice that Diane was going to need to get used to. "I've died like…okay, there was once when I was a baby, then there was when I was ten, and then the basilisk bit me at the end of term—" Hope was counting them off on her fingers when Dean interrupted her, rolling his eyes.
"That doesn't count!"
"It totally does! Four times! I've died—Miss Diane, are you okay?"
Diane had pressed a hand to her face, her shoulders shaking faintly before she dragged them both into a hug. "You-you absolute morons!" she said thickly. "You're not allowed to get into trouble until next year."
"Well, no way Hope's gonna make it a year, Mum, you need more reasonable goals," Dean muffled into his mother's shoulder.
"I'll kick your ass," Hope grumbled to him.
Diane released them, cupping Dean's cheek and then lightly touching Hope's throat, eyes flicking over the bandage across her brow. "Oh, darling…"
Hope shrugged. "What're a few more scars, right?" But her smile was a little too pained and Diane's heart ached. "I'll be fine, I promise…apparently people think my voice is hot, which is a bit…weird. George seemed pretty offended when someone mentioned it."
Diane was affronted, but Quinn snorted. "Hope, you may have found the last decent man."
"Oi!" Dean complained.
"Dean, you don't count, for obvious reasons."
"Hey!" Dean and Diane complained as one and Quinn pulled out a pair of glasses, not unlike their own, but with emerald green lenses, and handed them to Hope.
"What're these for?" Hope asked, sliding them into place immediately before going "Whoa! Check out those wards!"
Quinn smirked. "Thought you'd like that. Charmed lenses with a revelation charm bound to them…since you're always going on about mine."
"Favoritism!" Dean complained, only to start at the sound of a bell. "Hey, Hope, we've got Potions!"
"Ugh!" Hope groaned loudly, shoving the glasses into her bag and waving quickly to the pair. "Bye, Miss Diane! Bye, Quinn! See you at Christmas!" And then Dean was dragging her away at a quick jog.
"If Dean had been hit by that spell," Diane said hollowly, thinking about the cut clear against Hope's throat, "do you think he would've survived?"
Quinn sighed. "I may be blessed with Precognition, but I can't See everything, Diane…dwelling on the past can make you forget to live in the present. The kids are alive, they're tough, breathe."
And Diane did.
Quinn, though, watched Hope until she vanished completely, frowning briefly. The girl needed training like yesterday, her mind was like an open book and her etheric energy level was concerning. They shook those thoughts off.
"Wanna get some dinner tonight?" Quinn asked instead, returning the cigarette to their lips. "Just you and me?"
Pick up where they'd fallen apart back in school? When Diane had just been a warlock who'd made a deal with the goddess Morrigan and Quinn had been dropped into the psychic discipline for their ability to teleport on command, to Travel between worlds.
"I was basically just propositioned by my ex earlier today," Diane informed them dryly.
"So…tomorrow, then?" Quinn asked.
Diane was startled that they weren't turned off by that.
"We've all been propositioned by our exes," Quinn rolled their only eye, blowing out smoke. "So, next week, then?"
Quinn pulled her close and Diane blinked, back in her house once more. "All right," Diane said, her skin tingling where Quinn was touching her. "Saturday."
Quinn grinned widely. "See you then, babe." And then they were gone and Diane had to sit down heavily.
"Fuck," she said emphatically.
Hope stormed furiously out of Potions not more than an hour later. Her potion had been perfect, which was rare, mostly unheard of, but she'd been using her father's old Potions book with annotated notes, which wasn't really cheating, just using -clearly- more qualified source material.
The potion had been perfect and Snape had taken one look at it, declared she'd cheated, failed her immediately and told her there was no reason for her to continue with the lesson.
Hope was so incensed that she accidentally splintered the door as she threw her stuff in her bag, Ron and Hermione sharing a concerned look.
She ignored the shout of "Detention, Potter!" behind her, clenching her hands into fists. Nath was always getting on her to control her temper but it was really hard to remember that when all she wanted to do was run up to her dorm, grab the black sword and go back to the class and run him through.
Eh. He'd survive. Maybe.
Hope huffed, running a hand through her hair before seeing a familiar head of red hair near one of the trees close to the Black Lake. Oh, good. She took off before she could second guess herself.
Meanwhile, Sirius regarded any glimpse of Hope as being worth something far more precious than gold or gems. He had known it was a bit daring to sneak onto the grounds, but he couldn't help himself. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't around, but there was a small group of Gryffindors lazing about near the Black Lake.
But then she made an appearance, storming up to them with a scowl on her face, her hair in disarray as she came to a stop next to one of the red-heads who had immediately brightened at the sight of her, only to falter at her expression. "What's wrong?"
Hope dumped her bag next to his. "I need to borrow your lap," she told him decisively, her voice rougher than he remembered, before plopping herself down between his crossed legs, settling herself easily into his lap, situating his arms to wrap around her.
The boy kissed the back of her head and Sirius growled under his breath remembering Hope's comment that he'd overheard, about wanting to kiss someone named George…but how old was this kid? Fifteen? Sixteen? Far too old for her!
(Again, the hypocrisy escaped him)
George's friends (and one brother it seemed, identical as he was to him) started to snigger and give them looks and he glowered at them. "Want to talk about it?"
"It was a perfect fucking potion, that's what it was," Hope grumbled, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "I was using my dad's book and I guess he was brilliant at potions, but Snape accused me of cheating and he voided my potion and failed me, like the asshole he is."
George leaned his head slightly to kiss her cheek. "Yeah, he really doesn't like it when we get the potions right, so we stopped really trying…"
"But he's gonna fail me on everything," Hope complained. "How am I supposed to pass Potions this year if he keeps pulling this?"
"Start righting it down," the girl with dreadlocks advised. "Put into writing what you did and what he said about it, compile it and hand it in to McGonagall before the end of term. Alicia did that."
The other girl nodded seriously. "Works like a charm."
Hope scowled doubtfully and groaned.
"Anyways," George's twin prodded, "looking forward to Hogsmeade, Hope?"
"Fred," Hope said with her eyes shut, burrowing comfortably into her boyfriend's arms, "fuck off."
Fred laughed and Sirius slunk away, hunched low and resolving to never give George Weasley -because he must've been one of Arthur and Molly's; there was something definitely Weasley-ish about him- the time of day.
It was days before Hope finally peeled off the bandage to get a look at her tender brow, now scabbed where the curse had struck her, fracturing like actual lightning.
"How bad does it look?" she asked Parvati, the only one in the room and Parvati had paused, considering her.
"Bad?" Parvati asked. "Or badass?"
Hope couldn't help but choke on her own laugh.
Malfoy was going to ruin her week, that much Hope was completely certain of. After her short little ride around the grounds, Malfoy had somehow managed to get Buckbeak to attack him -not that twitchy little ferret wasn't asking for it, insulting Buckbeak after Hagrid had warned them against it-, and was apparently still complaining about the slice to his arm, which was a load of dung, if you asked Hope. It was only a small slice, it wasn't anything like Hope's leg had been when she first came to Hogwarts, but he still milked it like he was going to fall over dead any second.
"Can you believe that anyone so irritating was ever born?" Hope growled under her breath as they diced their caterpillars for their Shrinking Solution, not really caring how close Malfoy was to hearing her. In fact, she hoped he heard her; she was feeling a little bit more than vindictive. "I mean, seriously! It's his own fault he's injured!"
The blonde smirked at her over his cauldron and she flipped the bird at him in time for Snape to call out "Detention, Potter."
Hope turned her nose up at the man that was the bane of her existence, knowing with certainty that he was going to fail her, regardless of how well her potion came out, and making an ugly face at his back once he'd turned away.
Hermione gave her a look that said "You deserved that one." Ron bumped his fist with hers appreciatively, to Hermione's annoyance.
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them in above a whisper, to which Hope snapped snidely back, "Go bother someone else, ferret." She was pleased to see the pale flush appear on his cheeks at the insult, even mild as it was.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," the Slytherin continued, his lips twisted upwards into an empty smile that put Hope on edge. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"
"How about I shove this knife—" Ron started to hiss before quieting instantly when Snape turned his attention towards their group again.
"—he's complained to the school governors," Malfoy continued with a gleeful trill, making Hermione grab Hope's elbow as she clenched her fingers tightly around her silver knife in an effort to stop her from gouging out his eyes. "And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know ("Father's got a lot of money to throw around," Hope corrected in a hiss). And a lasting injury like this…who know if my arm'll ever be the same again?"
"If the pain is so bad, go to St. Mungo's," Hope seethed, "only, the thing is they can tell the difference between liars and people who are seriously injured. So why don't you take your money and shove it up your ass Malfoy, because sooner or later, you're going to run out of it, and I'm going to laugh when you do."
"Better to have money than to be poor," he said, casting a sneer towards Ron who was twitching.
"Better to be poor with a great personality than to be rich and arrogant," Hope said back.
"Hey, Hope, can I borrow your scales?" Seamus cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife with a lopsided grin that Hope couldn't help but give a smile of extreme relief.
"Sure, Seamus." She lifted the scales from the table to hand them to the Irish boy.
"Did you read the Daily Prophet this morning?" he asked her.
"No, I've been too busy, why?" she asked. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were both proving to be challenging albeit interesting subjects.
"They reckon Sirius Black has been sighted not too far from her," Seamus said, his eyes holding an excited gleam.
Ron glanced quickly to Hope as his dorm mate went back to his table, but Hope gave him a frown in return. She'd told them fairly early on about what she'd overheard with Dean from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before they'd run off to check on Nath in the hospital. She still wasn't quite sure about the whole 'Sirius Black is out to get you' vibe that was apparently encompassing all of the professors who were all being uncommonly wary around her, even more so than the other students. Surely the dementors would be able to stop him if he ever came close to the grounds, wouldn't they? But then, she thought to herself, they had been so helpful before, hadn't they? If he could escape from creatures that didn't have any qualms about attacking unsuspecting third years, well, then the odds were already in his favor.
Just so long as he didn't end up with a sword to kill them like Hope had…but Ron and Hermione had said Professor Lupin had managed to repel them with a spell and that sounded like it might be worth learning.
She bit down slightly on her lip as she concentrated on giving her Infusion of Wormwood a good shake before stopping Ron from adding a drop too many of Leech Juice. She could feel Snape's eyes on her, waiting for her to slip up and somehow cause a massive explosion with a few too many mistakes.
Believe her, it had been done before, with spectacular results. Really. She thought the bright colors looked quite well on the walls of the dreary dungeon, if she did say so herself (which she did). In her defense, she had probably been channeling Fred and George.
She sighed quietly to herself, counting down the minutes until the class ended. Was it really twenty more minutes in this hell hole? Hope groaned internally. The only consolation was that Defense Against the Dark Arts was next, and she was really looking forward to it.
Nineteen more minutes.
Hope liked Professor Lupin before he'd even done that spell on Peeves, but he also made her uneasy. Adults often did, given how they had a tendency to disbelieve her no matter what she did, but Professor Lupin fit the description of the man Nath liked to disdainfully refer to as 'The Coward', someone who had come to see her in the hospital, yet hadn't stuck around long enough to actually see what a depressive hole she'd dug herself into.
Hope couldn't disagree with that bitterness; she held the same thoughts. But he had a lot of personality. He faked blindness and deafness when pranks happened before his very eyes, and he was very fair about punishments. And to make him seem even better in her eyes, their first lesson was going to be a practical one.
Their lesson took them to the staffroom, in which –unfortunately- Snape was sitting comfortably in a low armchair.
"Leave it open, Lupin," he directed to the much more shabbily dressed wizard. "I'd rather not witness this."
But his next words made Hope's anger spike, turning her eyes a deep blood red. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust Longbottom with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
Hope couldn't help but scowl fiercely as Neville turned scarlet, ducking his head.
"I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," Professor Lupin said calmly, a light smile gracing his scarred face, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
He watched his colleague sweep out of the room before ushering the class closer to a wardrobe that trembled and shook as if something inside was dying to get out.
"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin assured them as Hope eyed the wardrobe curiously and cautiously. She hoped he wasn't going to pull a Lockhart and give them a bit of 'hands-on' experience without telling them anything like how to defend themselves against an attack. "There's a boggart in there."
Hope frowned slightly. "What's a boggart?" she queried out loud.
Professor Lupin spared her a smile, making her lips twitch reflexively. His smile made his face look years, maybe even a decade, younger. "That is the question, isn't it, Hope?"
Hope's cheeks flooded with heat and few people gave a few chuckles.
"Hermione?"
Of course, Hermione had answer; Hermione always had the answers, Hope couldn't help but think fondly.
"It's a shape-shifter," she explained in her no-nonsense voice. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most." Now Hope and Ron eyed the wardrobe apprehensively.
"Quite right," Professor Lupin hummed in agreement. "So, the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us fears the most. However, at this point, we have an advantage over it. Have you spotted it, Hope?"
Hope sputtered slightly at the sudden question, earning her a few chuckles. "But I don't know anything about boggarts!" she said, making the chuckles transform into laughter.
The flustered expression was Lily's dead-on whenever James had tried to ask her out in the most ridiculous ways.
"Give it a go," he offered with a kind smile.
"Er…well," Hope said uncomfortably, glancing around the room as if doing so would help her come up with some sort of answer to the problem at hand, but luckily, this time it did, "there's a lot of us in the room, maybe it won't be able to tell what we all fear at the same time."
"Well put," Professor Lupin said, nodding his head. "When a boggart is faced with more than one person, he tends to get a bit confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug ("Makes you wonder who could be afraid of a slug," Ron muttered to Hope and Hermione who had to stifle their giggles)? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake and turned himself into half a slug ("Never mind being afraid of a slug," Hope whispered, "what about half a slug?"). Not remotely frightening."
Ron sniggered.
"The charm that repels a boggart is simple," Professor Lupin continued, his eyes twinkling slightly towards Hope and her friends, making her think that he'd heard their conversation quite clearly, "yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."
"That's it?" Dean called from the left.
Professor Lupin chuckled at the question. "Yes, Dean, just laughter. Now, the charm is Riddikulus. Repeat after me, Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus," the class intoned in unison.
"Good." Remus beamed. "But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."
The brown-haired Gryffindor jumped violently as Seamus nudged him slightly forward. He looked so horrified that Hope couldn't help but feel bad.
"Now tell me, Neville," Professor Lupin continued in a jaunty way, "what frightens you?"
Neville mumbled a few words that the class could not hear until Lupin asked him to speak up and he uttered two words: "Professor Snape."
Of course, laughter ensued at those words, and Neville couldn't help but smile as well.
"Frightens all," Professor Lupin agreed with a thoughtful hum, "and I believe you live with your grandmother?"
"Yes," Neville said, tremors filling his voice slightly at the mention of the formidable woman that had raised him since his first year, "but I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."
Hope smirked slightly as more laughter echoed around them, but Professor Lupin was quick to dissuade his fears, assuring him that that wouldn't occur. His next instructions were whispered into Neville's ear so none of the other students knew what to expect when the wardrobe door flew open.
Boggart Severus Snape was just as darkly impressive as his counterpart and just seeing him increased the amount of annoyance that Hope felt towards the man. He moved forward with that perpetual scowl of his permanently curling his lips into a distasteful frown, and for a moment Hope had thought that Neville had lost his nerve, but then his voice rang out, clear as a bell: "Riddikulus!"
The effect had her and Ron roaring with laughter (Hermione didn't find it as funny as they did, but she had to admit that it was quite amusing).
Snape, in a green dress, with a fox-fur scarf, with a vulture-topped hat, and a red handbag swinging from his hand. Oh, this would have been perfect blackmail material!
"Excellent!" Professor Lupin cried. "Parvati! Forward!"
There was a scramble to get into line to face off against the boggart, but Hope had a larger concern on her mind; what was it that frightened her most? Honestly, she couldn't say. When she'd told Jeanna, her therapist, about not fearing death, she had been telling the truth. She wasn't trying to be macho or anything, but she had experienced death before, and people generally feared what they didn't understand, but Hope got death.
Her thoughts settled briefly on Voldemort. She had every right to be scared of him, after all, he had killed her parents and had tried to kill her two years in a row, but Voldemort was pushed aside, the Blood-Soaked Tree burning through her memory like fire.
Nothing had ever been more terrifying than that tree, she was certain of it.
So, she waited patiently and watched the boggart twist out of Snape's form, into something more terrifying and grotesque.
There was a man and a woman slumped onto the ground, eyes unseeing, stained with blood, wearing something that must've been more traditional to their family, and there stood a woman, tall and dressed richly, a dark hood up and a flock of moths obscuring her identity.
Parvati took a step back, face ashen, and, immediately, Hope stepped in front of her.
And whatever Professor Lupin had been expecting -Voldemort, James and Lily's corpses, dementors, even- it wasn't that.
But why was Hope Potter's greatest fear a bloodied tree?
Hope ignored it to turn her attention Parvati, who was still shaking like a leaf. "'Vati, I think we should get you to the hospital wing, let Madam Pomfrey look at you."
Parvati's eyes latched on her, like she was seeing Hope for the first time. She nodded silently, seemingly incapable of speech.
"C'mon," Hope said kindly, "let's go." She shot a wrathful glare towards the professor before taking her dormmate easily out of the room.
Parvati didn't speak about it, the woman that had been her greatest fear, and Hope realized she'd never asked about her parents before and she was starting to think they were as dead as her own, killed by a monster not unlike Voldemort.
But Hope wisely didn't ask. It wasn't any of her business as she steered Parvati to sit limply on the cot while Madam Pomfrey looked for a Draught of Peace to calm her down.
She supposed everyone had their demons, and while the Tree might seem malevolent, it was still a tree and Hope figured that she might as well've been grateful for that.
Hope and Dean awoke later that night in their respective dorms, dreaming of blood-stained bark and twisting branches and bloodied hands grasping at their throats.
If you've ever had a detention with Severus Snape, then you would know that it was the number one worst detention to ever get. Hope had an awful lot of these detentions and she found them grating, which was her own fault, if you ever asked Hermione about it. At least Professor McGonagall let her work on her homework in complete silence (as all her detention students did; though, Hope didn't get many detentions with Professor McGonagall, she actually liked her). He'd make her scrub at the stains of ruined cauldrons for hours, even though the stains were practically permanent, all the while reading a number of her essays with scorn and pointing out supposed inconsistencies ("Shredded Moonstone doesn't glimmer in complete darkness; it's not a unicorn, Potter."). Hope just thought he was full of a lot of tripe.
By the end of the night, she was tired, hungry, and sore, but she would never let Snape see that as she left the dungeons the same way she entered them, in complete silence.
The first thing she did was find a spare bathroom to wash her hands, thoroughly ridding them of the grime that had accumulated there during the course of her detention, and the second thing she did was find a nice stone bench to rest, because her legs felt a little stiff from standing in the same position for so long.
"Fancy some dinner?"
Hope jumped suddenly at George's voice before smiling as he came to sit down beside her. The moonlight painted silver streaks into his hair and she could see the flames that flickered lowly in the brackets on the walls were reflected in his eyes.
"Dinner was hours ago, Georgie," she said, rolling her eyes slightly, even as he took her hands in his and pulled her, groaning, into a standing position.
"Ah, but there is a table with food waiting for us in the kitchens," George said sagely, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes sparkled. "Really?" Heat flooded her cheeks as her stomach made an audible and obvious growl as if voicing its desire for the food.
George barely muffled his laugh, barely. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
"More fun than Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Hope asked slyly.
"No, but it's still fun," he said, lifting her completely off her feet and into his arms without her giving much protest; she must have been really tired. "Now all we have to do is dodge a few patrols!"
He didn't have to see Hope's face to know that she had just rolled her eyes at him. "And you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Weasley?"
"As would you, Potter," he said with a conspirator wink. "Don't think Fred and I didn't catch you sneaking out after curfew more than once."
Hope huffed lightly, looping her arm around his neck securely as they descended the stairs. "Star-gazing is not the same as causing trouble, George."
"Hm? What did you say? I'm afraid I wasn't listening."
Hope gave him a filthy look. "Keep talking like that and I might have to have words with your mother."
George gazed at her in complete unabashed horror. "You wouldn't!" he gasped out loud, knowing full well it was an empty threat; Hope and his mum were practically opposites and didn't understand each other in the slightest.
"Possibly," Hope said in slight amusement as he set her –groaning– onto the floor once more before a painting of a bowl of fruit. "So, this leads to the kitchens?"
"Yup," George said, reaching out a finger to tickle the pear in the picture.
Hope stared at him in complete and utter bafflement. "What're yo—"
George pressed one finger to her lips, halting her speech and making her blush at the same time. "Has anyone ever told you, you ask too many questions?"
"You've told me a number of times," Hope said in a dry manner around his finger.
"Maybe if I kissed you, you wouldn't have all these questions," he mused aloud.
"Right," Hope drawled, her cheeks pinking slightly, "well, you let me know how that goes, alright?"
"Ah, but you'd be the first to know," George said wisely, "you'd be the only person I would test it out on."
"Oh, I'm flattered that you wouldn't kiss another girl," Hope said, rolling her eyes slightly as his lips descended on hers, brushing a faint, chaste kiss to her lips.
Hope blinked dazedly as she was released, glaring lightly at him. "Now I know you're just doing that to mess with my head."
He winked. "Would I do that?" The fire cast a soft glow across her face, making the green of her eyes stand out in the darkness and making the color of her hair a much brighter, more vivid red. The scar at her throat and her brow seemed even darker. He swallowed thickly.
"I should hit you," she decided, but she didn't as she followed him inside the room, him tugging easily at her hand, smiling so wide that she couldn't help but replicate it.
Hope put her foot down about the makeup.
"No," she said sharply. "I'm not wearing that."
Angelina held up an eyeliner pen. "This could make your eyes really pop," she tried to wheedle. "George won't be able to take his eyes off you."
"He's already like that," Lavender giggled, looking for the right outfit and Hope shot her a glare.
"George thinks I'm at peak attractiveness when I'm covered in blood and brandishing sharp weapons," Hope replied just a touch dry. "I know, Fred told me." Besides, she'd tested it a few times, pulling out a knife and sharpening rock just to see how flustered he got.
"No accounting for taste," Angelina snorted.
Hope huffed. Diane had told her thirteen was too young for makeup anyways, but it wasn't like Hope needed to impress George with her looks. As it was, she was wearing jeans and probably her nicest shirt in rich red with the necklace George had gotten her dangling from her throat; she could see how his eyes gleamed every day he saw her wearing it.
"Don't worry, you look hot," Parvati said without looking up from her fashion magazine, which didn't exactly give her the best view.
Angelina huffed. "Well, all right, then. See you in Hogsmeade, girl, don't have too much fun with your boy…I heard you both came back very late last night." Her eyes were practically glowing.
Hope's face burned. "I had detention! He took me to the kitchens for some food!"
"Ooh!" Lavender spoke up suddenly. "Was it romantic?"
"No!" Hope said hotly, trying not to think about how he'd held her hand the whole time, pressing light kisses to the back of her hand when he wanted her to fumble.
"Oh~!" Parvati and Lavender sang as one. "It was!"
"Shut up!" Hope snarled, digging through her trunk, more to have something to do than actually look for something, but she caught sight of her album that Hagrid had given her. She flipped through the pictures, not really knowing what she was looking for until she landed on a picture that she'd removed from her father's room in Potter Manor, with the three unknown boys, one of which was a boy with brown hair and a scarred face…who didn't look all that different from Professor Lupin.
She scowled, grabbing a jacket and stuffing it into her pocket and putting on her shoes, heading down into the common room.
"Hermione?"
Hermione looked up from the book that was in her hands. "Yeah, Hope?"
"If George asks where I am, tell him I went to have a word with Professor Lupin."
Her eyes colored in confusion. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "I didn't think you liked him all that much after that boggart lesson."
Which was mostly true. She kept her head down in class, moving firmly to the back and did her best not to interact with him, not really impressed with the boggart lesson despite everyone else's experiences. It seemed that Parvati's had been the worst and a few Slytherins had laughed about Hope being scared of a tree before Ron had snarled them down.
"He's…fine," Hope shrugged. "It's something personal." She waved Hermione's concern off, heading out the portrait hole and strolling down the corridors until she happened across him. "Professor Lupin!"
The man smiled tiredly. "Ah, Hope, I thought you'd be down in Hogsmeade with your lad." He'd been there when Hope had found out that Fred had cashed in on the pool that apparently the entire school had been in on trying to guess when the pair would date and honestly it was a miracle Fred Weasley was still alive.
Apparently there had been a knife involved.
"I'll be over there soon," Hope said, unconcerned, taking the picture out of her pocket and handing it to him, pointing out one boy, "that's you, right?"
Professor Lupin faltered. "Ah," he said exhaustively, "why don't you come inside?"
Hope followed him into his office cautiously, sitting down silently, refusing the tea he offered her. "You knew my father. You were friends with my father."
"I, yes," Professor Lupin admitted, "we were friends, good friends—"
"And you were at the hospital after my accident," Hope continued. "Nath saw you. You were there and you didn't even bother to check on me."
"No, I didn't want to intrude," he'd noticed she'd been withdrawn since the boggart, but he didn't dream that it had been because of him. "You were alive, you were healing—"
"I was in agony," Hope snapped. "I was, I still am, clinically depressed, and, according to my godfather, several steps short of suicidal when he came to see me." Her eyes were icy black. "I died, alone and afraid on that road and I was fine with it. Nath brought me back. Nath stayed with me. Nath told me stories. Nath convinced my doctors to put me into therapy. And Nath doesn't like you."
"…Oh," Professor Lupin said weakly, slumping against his chair. He had reasons, so many reasons, but Hope was a fiery thirteen-year-old witch who had been wronged so many times, would she even listen?
"Have a good day, professor," Hope said coolly, standing swiftly and leaving him alone in his silent office.
The upcoming full moon was sure to be terrible.
As it happened, Hope and George ended up touring the sights on their own. Fred and Angelina were heading off to do a bit of shopping ("Don't have too much fun while we're gone!" Fred had called out to them as he and Angie made a hasty getaway) and Ron and Hermione decided to leave her and George alone.
George squeezed their linked fingers, bringing them to his mouth to kiss them and Hope flushed. "You wanna talk about what had you so upset when you came down?"
"It's not a big deal," Hope assured him with a smile, "don't worry about it."
"It looked like a big deal," George said stoutly, only to blink in surprise when Hope took his cheeks in hand, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him soundly. For a moment he forgot his worries, just remembering Hope after she'd kissed him the first time telling him to try better next time. He sank his fingers into her hair, smirking at the startled squeak she managed to get out. They parted and Hope stumbled slightly, dazed from the kiss, and George wrapped his free arm around her waist, keeping her against him. "How was that?" he breathed against her parted lips. "Better than the first?"
Hope struggled briefly to get her thoughts in order. "Getting there," she rasped out, burying her red face into his chest when they heard a few catcalls. George glowered at them over her head.
"C'mon, Hope," he said smiling, loosening his grip on her to link her fingers with his once more, "where to first?"
"Anywhere you like," she said, looking around with interest, "since I don't really know my way around, or where anything is…"
"Well, first up you've got Dervish and Banges over there," he used their interlocked hands to point, "you'll find a lot of strange magical stuff in there, lots of odds and ends, but they also fix stuff too. And over there," he pointed on the opposite side, "is Gladrags Wizardwear, a clothes store, obviously. You want to start in there?" He remembered Miss Diane's talk with her about getting some new clothes.
"Nah," Hope said dismissively, "where's that sweetshop that Ron's been positively raving about?"
"Ah, a woman of class," George said with a smirk, earning him another eye roll, "follow me!"
She laughed as he dragged her through the village, dodging around a number of their classmates to reach Honeydukes Sweetshop.
"Whoa!" Hope said as they entered. "That's a lot of sugar!" There were sweets upon sweets, piled high and behind the glass panes. And there were so many colors!
"And now you know why Ron's such an addict," George said, one hand in his pocket, counting his spare change. "See anything you like?"
"You're not paying for everything for me!" Hope said aghast, whipping her head back towards him. "What if I decided I wanted to buy the whole store?"
"Then I would be very broke," George said with a smirk, before relenting at her scowl, "oh fine…but your lunch is on me."
"How kind of you," Hope said with a drawl before searching the store with her eyes for something that looked good to eat. The Sugar Quills looked really good, so did the Peppermint Toads, and, of course, the Chocolate Frogs. The Wizochoc would come in handy around the dementors -that's what Hermione had said-, and the Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes were really good.
Five minutes later Hope was whistling a tune as her free hand was weighed down with candy, other still clasped in George's.
"Where's your favorite?" she asked him as they maneuvered between the students.
"Do you have to ask?" he joked. "Zonko's Joke Shop!"
He made a big dramatic wave to the brightly show-cased store in front of them, making Hope giggle at his antics. Zonko's was the perfect store for him and Fred, Hope could see that as he dragged her inside. There were enough prank items there to fulfil their wildest imaginations and to inspire some more.
The Nose-biting Teacups and Hiccough Sweets wouldn't be something that she would fancy anyone giving her, and the Frog Spawn looked a bit revolting, but she couldn't resist buying a few Dungbombs, which absolutely delighted George, but then he went and bought some too.
"Ah, we should probably head towards The Three Broomsticks," he said almost as an afterthought, glancing at his watch before giving her a sly smirk. "And here I was having so much fun having you all to myself…"
Crimson pooled over her cheeks even before he bent downwards to kiss her again, and Hope didn't mind in the slightest. Her eyes fluttered shut and reached up to curl her fingers into the fiery locks at the nape of his neck as George's arms held her tight. By the time he had released her, she was appropriately flushed and unsurprisingly breathless.
"Are you ever going to stop doing that?" It was less of a demand and more of breathless question, losing feeling in her left leg again that had nothing to do with how dazed he'd made her.
"Never!" George vowed, pressing another kiss to her lips, though this one was much shorter than the previous one, it still made her burn like the sun.
"If you keep this up, we'll never meet the others on time," Hope wasn't really threatening him, as it was hard to do when he'd moved on from her mouth to pepper her cheeks with kisses.
"Meh," George said with an uncaring air, "I don't think Fred and Angie would mind…I think their mouths would be a little busy…"
"George!" she said sharply.
"Oh, all right," he said in an all-suffering voice, but Hope cut across him.
"No, not that." She gripped his hand. "I need a minute -my leg—"
George stopped and she leaned down to massage at the left leg. "What's wrong? Did you hurt it?"
"No, I—" Hope huffed in frustration. "My accident destroyed a lot of nerves in it and sometimes it gives me a hard time, that's all."
George frowned, watching how she squeezed the leg. "So, you have a hard time feeling it?" He was guessing that's what she meant.
"Mostly," Hope sighed. "The cold doesn't really help, though…okay it's a little more normal, we should be okay…"
George was still watching her in concern, though. "Don't worry about it, its normal. I wanted it cut off when I was ten, but apparently, I wasn't making that decision while being of sound mind, besides, the Dursleys would've never gone for something that meant they would've had to pay for even more therapy for me." She rolled her eyes, leaning back and testing her foot on the ground before looking up again. "It's okay, really…and weren't you saying the Three Broomsticks has butterbeer? And that its really good?"
She linked her arm around his and George gave himself a small shake. "Yeah, it's really good, and—"
Hope waving at Parvati and Lavender across the street who had either been asked by Seamus and Dean, or just so happened to bump into the two third years and were having an excellent time. Parvati and Lavender waved back, but Dean laughed as Seamus cat-called.
Hope rolled her eyes, leaning up to kiss George's cheek with emphasis and glared at them over her shoulder.
That just made them laugh harder.
Hope grumbled. "Bunch of assholes…who's got the boyfriend? Me." Then she backtracked suddenly, because even though she'd been thinking the word and saying it when he wasn't around, they hadn't actually talked about it.
But George was positively beaming, pink-cheeked and absolutely delighted. It was a good look, a really good look. "Yeah?" he asked eagerly.
Hope reddened. "I mean, if you like."
"I like," he promised and if Hope blushed any more, she was going to explode, so she ducked her head and dragged him forward to their group of friends.
Some of those at the staff table were understandably tense. Professor McGonagall hadn't thought it was a good idea for Hope to even be allowed into Hogsmeade given that Sirius Black was still after her, but Hope had her permission slip signed and there was little she could say on the matter without denying her something she had earned.
Remus' reasons were a bit more personal, as she was the daughter of one of his friends and the very goddaughter of the man hunting her.
"She came to talk to me this morning," he was telling Professor McGonagall, "she doesn't think very highly of me, apparently."
"Hm." Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Potter's got a lot of opinions how things ought to be and where she fits in…she doesn't have much of a fondness for adults; I gather too many failed her at her muggle school before she came here."
(She didn't know anything of the bruises and the broken bones and even if Hope said Dudley pushed her in front of a car, children did tend to exaggerate. But she would one day learn.)
"She likes you, though," Remus pointed out.
"I maintain a professional boundary and I validate her concerns, should she have them," Professor McGonagall replied. "I am her teacher. When she acts out of turn, she is punished, when she does something well, she is rewarded. She knows what to expect with me. You're an unknown variable who look at her and see ghosts of what you've lost."
"And you don't?" Remus couldn't help but be surprised. James and Lily were among her favorite students.
"Sometimes," Professor McGonagall conceded, "when the light hits her just right, I see James and I see Lily…but neither of them were as prone to muggle violence as Hope is, neither of them had a frankly ridiculous obsession with knives as she does, and I daresay neither of them were able to bounce back as easily from a former Death Eater targeting them as she is."
Remus didn't ask if she meant Rookwood or Black, but he still relaxed in his seat as Hope re-entered the Great Hall with her friends and boyfriend, plopping down into one of the seats at the Gryffindor Table and helping herself to some dinner.
"Did you go by to see the Shrieking Shack?" Ron asked Hope. "Hermione and I did."
"Oh, no!" Hope bemoaned. That had been one of the things that she had been looking forward to, and it had completely slipped her mind. "I totally forgot about that! Damn George Weasley, distracting me!"
Hermione hid a giggle, but Ron openly sniggered at her.
"Was it as scary in person?" Hope asked.
"A little from the distance," Hermione had to admit, "but I suppose it depends on how you see it."
Hope grunted in agreement before spooning the last of her soup into her mouth and standing up. "I'm going to go drop off my stuff in the dormitory, I'll be back in a few."
So, she left everyone to jog up several flights of moving staircases until she came to a stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Ah, hello," the slightly tipsy portrait greeted her, raising a glass of perhaps fine wine (or maybe not so fine; you never knew with portraits), password?"
"Revocate animus," Hope said clearly, and the portrait swung open with an "And to you."
It was strange to see the common room and the dorms so empty, but there were a lot of students in Gryffindor House, and all of them were either still out in Hogsmeade, trickling their way back to the castle for dinner or were in the Great Hall.
So, she took the steps two at a time until she reached her year's dorm, before tucking her bags into her trunk a bit haphazardly, shutting the door to the third years' dormitory with a snap as she bounded down the steps once more.
However, Hope first encountered a problem with the portrait which did not move at her touch like it did for all those students who wanted to leave the common room. Hope pressed against the portrait, but it was like it was jammed, only swinging free once Hope threw her shoulder against the frame, something that she was almost sure had fractured her shoulder in some way, but she didn't have time to dwell on it as she stepped out and onto the landing.
Where the Fat Lady was supposed to be, where she had been only moments before, were three long distinct scratches like a dog or a wolf had scratched through it. A massive dog or wolf. Her mind instantly flashed to that huge black hound that she had seen over the summer, the supposed 'Grim.'
And then she saw it again, looking directly to the left.
The animal bared its teeth at her slightly before turning on its heel and leaping up the stairs.
Without even thinking at all, Hope raced after it, her wand clenched tightly in her hand, her other reaching for the abalone knife. The dog was fast and slippery, taking a number of shortcuts and secret passages that she hadn't even known existed, and she was finding it difficult to keep up with him, but he never left her sight, no matter how far ahead he got.
She gripped the knife and flung it and it barely nicked the dog's shoulder, clattering against the floor, even as the dog whined in pain.
At this point, Sirius was running into a few problems.
First, and foremost, the Fat Lady had refused to let him inside the common room, in which he was certain traitorous Peter lay. He'd admit that his temper got the best of him a little when he slashed up the painting, but it just in his mind. The second problem arose when his little goddaughter forced her way out of the common room and saw him. And his third problem, and most important problem, was that his goddaughter was now chasing him around the school after throwing a knife, of all things, at him!
She had a good arm, if nothing else, and Sirius was as annoyed as he was grudgingly impressed.
Sirius would have to move fast or she would see him.
So, feeling incredibly guilty, Sirius wound around a corner very fast, transforming quickly back to a human and hiding deep in the shadows there as Hope came to a stop breathing hard, twisting two ways and frowning intently. When she looked in the direction that was opposite to him, he gave her a rough hit to the back of her head.
She crumpled instantly, her world fading into darkness.
Sirius regretted it the instant he did it, catching her limp body mere inches from hitting the ground as he laid her down gently, but there was little he could do now. He grimaced slightly; what would James and Lily've said?
Quite unsure of just what to do, Sirius simply dropped a hand to the top of her head, giving a whispered apology before his body shifted and lengthened into that of a great black dog, lurching into the shadows with barely a glance back to where his goddaughter's body lay.
She'd understand one day.
Unaware of their friend's predicament, Hermione and Ron were finally making their way out of the Great Hall and up onto the main staircase.
"I thought Hope would come back down once she'd finished putting her stuff away," Hermione said with a bit of concern, "she said she'd only be gone a few minutes…"
"You know Hope," Ron said, giving her an easy grin that made her feel warm, "she probably left out one of her books and got a little distracted by it."
It wouldn't have been the first time, that much could be certain. Hope could be very easily distracted just as she could be easily intently focused. They usually blamed George for getting her distracted, but it wasn't always the case.
"What's this?" Hermione questioned at the mass of Gryffindor students amassed around the portrait hole.
"Neville's probably forgotten the password again," Ron said sagely.
"Hey!" said Neville from behind them, sounding slightly insulted no matter the truth to his words.
"Oh, sorry," Ron quickly apologized as his brother made his way through the crowd.
"Let me through, please" Percy ordered. "What's the holdup here? You all can't have forgotten the password –excuse me, I'm Head Boy!"
"Real proud of that fact, isn't he?" Ron muttered to Hermione, making her give him a small smile, which made it all worth it in his mind.
"Get back all of you," Percy said suddenly, dropping the smiles from their faces in an instant. Ron had never heard Percy so serious in all his life, and that was including how he had spoken last year during the basilisk attacks. "No one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched –Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick!"
The person who was the furthest from the portrait just so happened to be Colin Creevey, so he turned and raced down the stairs in search of the headmaster. He must not have been very difficult to find because Colin returned in a matter of moments with the aged, silver-haired wizard trailing close behind him.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked, having just arrived and was now standing on her tip toes trying to see over the heads of the students that blocked her sight, but even that height difference didn't make her tall enough.
But Hermione and Ron couldn't offer her any answer because even they couldn't see through the throng of people, and when some of them finally shifted, Hermione gasped.
The Fat Lady was gone from her portrait, and the canvas that she had once resided upon was ripped as though with a claw.
Hermione didn't even realize that she was now holding onto Ron's hand tightly, and Ron felt no need to inform her of it. Hermione could feel her fear rising as Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Lupin rushed down the hall to Professor Dumbledore.
"Where's Hope?" she hissed to Ron, but she could his same fear reflected in.
"You'll be lucky," a very familiar excessively cheerful voice stated over the group, making a number of them jump in surprise.
It had been awhile since the pair had seen Peeves the Poltergeist. They actively avoided him, like most students did. Hermione didn't fancy an inkwell emptied on top of her head and Ron didn't appreciate having rugs tugged from under his feet. Hope, on the other hand, never seemed to mind the challenge.
"What do you mean, Peeves?" Ron had to commend the headmaster for having such a cool head in the face of Peeves, but he probably had a lot of experience with dealing with the prankster ghost.
Peeves voice changed to an overly sweet tone when speaking to Dumbledore. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscapes up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful. Poor thing…" That last bit was the fakest Ron and Hermione had ever heard.
"Did she say who did it?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, yes, Professorhead," Peeves said in a gleeful manner. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see. Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Hermione could swear that the headmaster's eyes darkened slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.
"All students will make for the Great Hall," he ordered, and the students were quick to comply, except for two.
"Professor McGonagall!"
Hermione lurched forward, dragging Ron by their still-linked hands (and firmly ignoring the butterflies fluttering rapidly in her stomach as if for escape) to their Head of House.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "please follow your—"
"Professor," Hermione said, interrupting her for the first time in her life, "Hope's missing."
Professor McGonagall went positively white, which was a first, Ron and Hermione had to admit.
"Go to the Great Hall," she continued in a would-be calm voice that betrayed her concern for the situation, "we'll find Hope, don't worry."
But Hermione and Ron couldn't help but exchange a look at that, because Professor McGonagall had done something that she had never done before.
She had said Hope's first name.
Now came the real challenge; evading George Weasley as long as possible.
Oh, that was going to be so difficult, Hermione just knew it was.
If there was one thing that Remus Lupin prided himself on, it was knowing Hogwarts for better than any professor.
So, he was going to be the one who found James' missing daughter.
And it helped that the full moon was tomorrow, so his senses were heightened, and that meant that he could follow Hope's distinctive scent with ease. He traced it from the left of the Fat Lady's portrait, up a few stairs, through a hidden tapestry.
"Hope!"
The thirteen-year-old witch was lying sprawled on the ground, her hair fanning out around her, her wand still clenched in her fist.
As gently as it could possibly be done, Remus rolled her onto her back, propping her head up with his hand as he checked that she was still breathing, which, luckily, she was.
Hope's eyebrows scrunched together as she feebly stirred, her eyelids fluttering slightly before opening to reveal those green eyes that had once belonged to Lily Evans.
Naturally the first thing out of her mouth was: "Ugh, not you."
Remus grimaced faintly, helping her sit up, her hand rubbing at the back of her head, like she'd been struck. He opted to ignore her distaste for him. "Are you all right?"
"What d'you mean?" Hope said, blinking her eyes a few times as if to focus her eyesight.
"You've been missing for about an hour," Remus informed her and she stared uncomprehendingly at him.
"Really?" she said in surprise. "It's been that long?"
"All the professors have been looking for you," Remus added.
"Even Snape?"
Remus almost wasn't surprised at the amount of contempt that her voice held towards the Head of Slytherin House. She was James' daughter after all, and there was some obvious tension between the two. Remus would have thought that Severus would have a bit of a better relationship with Hope because she had her mother's face than if she had been born a boy with her father's looks. But there was also the personality to consider, and Hope was certainly every bit the rebel her father had been, if not more so.
"Even Snape," he agreed before his concern shined through, "did you hit your head?"
His fingers gently probed the back of her skull for any injuries, feeling a small bump that made her wince.
"Ow!" she complained.
"Let's get you on your feet," he advised, "it might be best to let Madam Pomfrey look at your head."
"I'm fine," Hope said, nettled, "I don't want—"
"You're going," Remus said in a voice that brooked no argument. "How did you find this place anyways?" He kept a tight grip on her elbow when she tripped and almost fell, her movements much more sluggish than he hoped.
Hope screwed up her face in concentration, accidentally turning her hair violet, but it disappeared quick enough that Remus didn't comment on it. "I thought…I saw something, so I chased after it…I think?" she sounded more confused than certain, making Remus worry about that head wound of hers, no matter how small it was.
"You think?" he pressed, helping her carefully down the stairs, even as she used the stone rail for assistance, stooping once to grab a pocket knife that looked like it was tipped with blood- had she thrown a knife at Black?
"It's all…kind of fuzzy," she said in an airy voice that sounded distinctly like one of his second year Ravenclaw student's, Luna Lovegood, if his memory served him. "I was chasing…it…and then I lost it and something hit me from behind."
Remus clenched his teeth together, almost grinding them. Of course, Black wouldn't want to look her in the face, besides, back-stabbing was his specialty…maybe he hadn't wanted to look at the face that was nearly identical to the one that Lily Evans had worn.
"M'Tired," she murmured. "Can we sleep now?"
"We're almost there," he said, steering her towards the hospital wing. "Madam Pomfrey?"
The Matron was at his side in a matter of moments, her eyes fastened on Hope. "Oh, Hope! You are bad for my heart!"
"That's probably what George thinks too," Hope agreed with a bit of a slur.
Madam Pomfrey didn't smile as she dragged the girl over to the nearest bed and forcefully pushing her down onto it, berating the girl loudly, honestly, some things never seemed to change.
"Miss Potter!"
Professor McGonagall was the picture of relief at the sight of one of her most troublesome students.
"Yo," Hope said, raising a hand in barely a wave as Professor Lupin left to continue the search for Sirius Black.
"What happened to her, Poppy?" Professor McGonagall demanded of the Hogwarts Matron.
"Only a mild concussion," Madam Pomfrey assured her fellow staff member, tapping the afflicted area with her wand.
"Ow!" Hope complained, swatting her wand away with an apprehensive look on her face. "Careful with that thing, you could poke someone's eye out!"
"I can assure you, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey said in a clipped voice, "if and only if I wanted to poke your eye out, would I do so."
"You never know," Hope grumbled, massaging the back of her head as she did so, "even healers can have bad days."
She astutely ignored the filthy look that Madam Pomfrey tossed her way.
"Now, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall began as Snape entered the room as well, "why don't you tell me what happened?"
Hope was a little more than disgruntled by the kind of questioning her professors had to put her through, and she was far less than keen to talk about it, even less than she had about being interrogated by those two Aurors after she and Dean's less than typical arrival to the school. Mostly because someone had gotten the drop on her and she had never seen their face. Oh, they were going to get it, only with her fist to their face, that much Hope was certain.
"Look," she said, her eyes narrowed dangerously and her arms tightly crossed that it was unlikely that they would ever unwind, "I told you I was hit from behind, I didn't see whoever did it."
"It seems…curious," Snape said in an oily voice, "that you would be in Gryffindor Tower conveniently when Black demanded entry."
Hope canted her head at the greasy-haired man, arching an eyebrow and speaking with carefully controlled strain. "What are you insinuating? That I'm aiding a criminal? A criminal who apparently wants me dead? Yeah, that's likely," she snapped out the last bit, her irritation edging into her voice.
"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall warned, but for once, Hope ignored her.
"I think I want to go see my friends now and go to sleep," Hope said flatly, her rings bumping together as she fiddled with her hands. Professor McGonagall could almost swear that the snake ring moved.
"I think that's quite enough questioning for my student tonight," said Professor McGonagall to the small group that had gathered. "Miss Potter, if you would follow me…"
"Gladly," Hope muttered.
The walk down to the Great Hall was awkward and silent. Hope was irritated and Professor McGonagall was disapproving.
"Hope!"
Hope was a little surprised by the relief in Percy's voice. The Head Boy strode towards her, his face tense, but his eyes broke the image. A couple of students in purple sleeping bags turned towards her at the noise, but her firm stare made them turn in the opposite direction, though she was sure they were still eavesdropping.
"There you are! Where've you been? The others have been worried sick!" Percy sounded a trifle bit exasperated.
Hope didn't have to guess who he meant by 'others'.
She stood on her tip-toes, searching the mass, but they all looked the same.
"Left side, toward the back," Percy informed her, "I can take you…are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, Percy," Hope said with the barest hint of a smile, "really."
He didn't look convinced.
"Well," she wheedled, "I'm a little tired."
He believed that. Her eyelids were drooping slightly and her lips were twitching for a yawn. So, he directed her towards his brothers and their combined friends, and he didn't ask many questions.
The look on George's face was enough.
His questions could wait.
Though Hope had claimed to be tired, that didn't stop her from staying awake well into the night, feigning sleep, because overprotective Percy -now doing a spot-on impression of Mrs. Weasley- kept coming back to check on her whenever he was free. But Hope kept her eyes firmly shut, her hand relaxed in George's light grip. She raised her eyes slightly to find that Ron and Hermione were doing the same thing.
They all had to quickly shut their eyes, though, because footsteps approached them.
"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy's voice could be easily made out, even in a whisper.
"No," came Dumbledore's calm response. Hope kind of wanted to see him lose his temper; it would at least be interesting to watch. "All well here?"
"We have everything under control, sir," Percy assured him.
"Good," Dumbledore said with a miniscule undertone of relief. "There's no point in moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."
A temporary guardian? That didn't sound good. What had happened to the Fat Lady? Professor McGonagall had never said.
Percy asked her question for her. "And the Fat Lady?"
"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently, she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."
"And what Hope said about the portrait jamming when she tried to get out?" Hope tried not to react to that. Clearly, he'd had been speaking with Professor McGonagall.
"Miss Potter should have been locked inside the tower," Dumbledore said in a thoughtful voice, "the fact that she was able to force her way out…is astounding to say the least. But it is a mystery to ponder another day."
Hogwarts will always answer to its heirs whose blood runs in veins through the entire structure.
Hope had remembered that small part in Salazar's little journal. It hadn't really made sense to her at the time, why would it? The way it was written, it was almost as if Salazar considered the castle to be alive, but then, she had to consider that the castle was made from Blood Magick. So, possibly, it could 'remember' the blood from which it had been forged, because, even though Hope's blood was rather diluted in comparison to her grandfather's, she was still a Slytherin.
"Headmaster?"
Hope almost clenched her hand tightly around George's, but that would be too obvious. She took a calming breath.
Meditation, she thought to herself, is something I need to really look in to. Because, really, she was starting to get a little too mad at the sound of his voice. Though, in her defense, he had accused her of aiding and abetting a person that the Wizarding world practically considered a terrorist.
"The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."
"What about the Astronomy Tower?" Dumbledore inquired. "Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"
"All searched," came Snape's response.
"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said, heaving a sigh that echoed in the silence, "I didn't really expect Black to linger."
"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" Snape asked of him.
Hermione and Ron had already told Hope of the theories circling through the students, including apparition (which couldn't be done on the grounds), disguise (that one was more likely), or flying (which couldn't be done for the same reason as the first theory). It would be interesting to hear what the headmaster thought about the matter.
"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next," he said.
"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before –ah– the start of term?" he asked, making Hope squint barely in their direction. Oh…it seemed that Percy was still standing close-by, so the potion's professor was trying to block the Head Boy from the conversation.
"I do, Severus." Dumbledore was employing the same voice that Hope used when she was trying to say "I don't want to talk about it" in a fewer amount of words.
"It seems –almost impossible– that Black could have entered the school without inside help." Hope went stone cold. Was he insinuating that Professor Lupin-?! "I did express my concerns when you appointed—" Oh, he thought it was Professor Lupin. Hope frowned in confusion.
"I do not believe that a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Professor Dumbledore replied shortly.
But Hope couldn't help but wonder why Snape thought it had been Lupin in the first place.
Everyone was hyperaware of what they were doing the next few days and people were keeping such an annoyingly close watch on her that Hope was getting honestly so close to cutting and running.
So, one Saturday, when everyone else was fast asleep, Hope grabbed a bag and her broom, debating a few moments before grabbing the sword as well, and headed down the stairs and out of the common room. The school might've been on high alert, but no one patrolled at five in the morning; it was a waste of time.
She'd been putting off going down into the Chamber of Secrets until her coursework was better handled, which she thought it was -all her homework was done, albeit because of her tendency to complete her work early in the morning when she and Dean couldn't sleep from the nightmares- and Hope needed something to occupy her time.
Getting past Moaning Myrtle was no issue, flying carefully down the tunnel took a bit more effort, but then Hope was standing before the carcass, vaguely impressed.
It was still intact, barring the shredded eyes and the hole in the top of its head where Hope had shoved the sword through to kill it. It didn't look like it had started to decompose at all, which was impressive, but Hope didn't know a whole lot about how quickly magical creatures began to decay.
Hope avoided the dried splotch of blood where she'd once laid, dropping the bag down beside her and pulling out the folded parchment with several spells listed. One to de-bone the basilisk, separating flesh and bone, one to remove the skin with the scales intact, one to siphon venom from the fangs… She pulled out her own vial to gather some of that before leaving the rest. She'd found a lot of interesting ones in Pithos over the summer and this one would suit basilisk venom just fine, with painted scales on the round base and a stopper shaped like the head of a snake.
She approached the head cautiously with the bulbous bottle and placed it under one of the larger fangs and murmuring "Haurio," and watching acid green gather at the tip and slowly drip into the bottle.
There were stranger ways to spend her morning, Hope supposed. The bag Mr. Elton had given her was enchanted with pockets for each ingredient, so Hope watched the meat disappear into one, the bones into another, and the miles of snake skin in the outer chamber into a third, but Hope kept the skin that hadn't been shed.
She'd read that the skin was tougher than dragon-hide and was impervious to most spells…and it looked cool, so how was Hope supposed to resist?
And it was still pretty early -she couldn't have been in the Chamber for more than a few hours- when she headed over to the Owlery, using Hedwig and a few school owls to carry the heavy load off to Diagon Alley.
Then all she was left with was the pitch-black sword that hadn't left her after she'd stuck it through Rookwood's neck. She considered it as she pulled out Nath's phone from her pocket.
"Why didn't you ever teach me to use a sword?" she asked without preamble.
There was a moment of silence on the other end and then loud laughter; evidently Nath's previous injury bothered him so little that he had no problem laughing loud and long. "I thought it was obvious," he mused, "that you weren't well suited for them."
Hope huffed, incensed and hung up with him, walking past the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. "Asshole." She'd show him.
She looked down on it again. It really was a work of art. She hadn't looked too hard at it the night she'd chucked it into her trunk, but it was beautiful, especially to someone who appreciated sharp objects like Hope did. The raven with its spread wings at the hilt had eyes made of onyx gems, the blade growing from its parted beak.
She must've been walking in a circle for longer than she had originally thought because she had to pause and take a few steps back, staring at what had once been a blank stretch of wall but now had a heavy door in clear sight.
"Huh," Hope said to herself, seizing it and opening it.
She'd never seen a room like it before. In fact, it reminded her of when Nath took her to the middle of nowhere to teach her to use weapons -something she still didn't understand why it was so important to learn- there were weapons, a lot of them, and targets and a suit of armor rushing at her with a sword in hand.
Hope yelped, fumbling with her sword to block the hit but them kept coming. The suit of armor had clearly never taken a lesson in mercy and it was only later that Hope would realize she only had herself to blame.
"What happened to you?" George demanded, aghast, later when he came down the stairs to see Hope knee deep in an argument with Hermione about how her equation was slightly off -can't you see? You're getting the wrong answer entirely- a bag of ice to her bruised cheek.
Hope looked up, grinning widely. "Picked a fight with a suit of armor?"
"Did you win?" Fred asked, as chaotic as Hope was on a good day, and positively delighted.
"No, I lost," Hope said dryly, "and, on the downside, Nath might be right about swords not suiting me."
George shook his head uncomprehendingly.
"Just don't use it in front of George," Fred advised, grin devilish. "He might faint."
George turned red, glowering at his brother while Ron sighed heavily from his chair, trying to catch up on all the work he'd gotten behind on, wondering what he'd done in his previous life to earn this lot in life. Hermione giggled while Hope's cheeks pinked, coaxing her boyfriend down for a light kiss.
"Don't worry," she said, "I still like you."
"Thank Merlin," George said impossibly dry.
November continued, with the days growing colder and colder, but despite that, Hope found herself leaning against a stone rail of the viaduct. It was either here or sitting atop the Astronomy Tower. She always found that it was best to think in the open air, but maybe that wasn't always the best thing, especially in this kind of weather.
She would have been sleeping, in fact, she should have been, but she couldn't, her nightmares plaguing her. Normally she'd just head down to the common room and stay there, but she'd been starting to feel like a caged animal and just needed to get away for a little while.
"Ah, I see you've found my old haunt."
Hope lifted her gaze from the frigid horizon to meet Professor Lupin's eyes. "Hm?" she asked, too confused to be annoyed.
"My old haunt," Professor Lupin repeated, "whenever I needed to get some space, I'd come here." He smoothed a hand fondly over the stone.
Her lips twitched slightly against her will. "From Dad?"
"Sometimes," Professor Lupin admitted. "My friends were a bit..." He struggled for the perfect word to describe them before giving up.
"Can't have gotten up to anything worse than the trouble Ron, Hermione, and I get into?" Hope asked in amusement.
Professor Lupin gave a slight wince. Tales of her adventures had reached his ears. Defeating Voldemort a second time and a third time, fighting a basilisk, being attacked by a former Death Eater and living to tell the tale…yes, she had definitely surpassed James. "Well…maybe not as much trouble—"
She gave a short laugh as he said 'trouble'. "Sorry," she apologized with a grin, "it's just that Trouble is usually what we call George. My friends say I attract 'Trouble'."
"How clever of them."
"They seem to think so," she said with a shrug. She eyed his appearance; his robes were hanging loosely on his thin and wiry frame and he was leaning more on his cane and his scars were more prominent. She frowned, but thought it best not to ask; he seemed so tired these days.
He handed her the photo back, the one she'd left with him on Halloween. "I wish to say something."
"Okay." Hope turned her attention back to the small ink-splattered journal in her hands. There were equations there, far too advanced to be first year Arithmancy; he'd seen something of the likes with the various spells and enchantments that Lily and James had concocted before they went into hiding.
"I'm sorry," he said heavily. "I wish I could change things, I wish you hadn't been in that accident, I wish you'd been safe…I should've stayed but…it wasn't safe for you to be around me."
Hope's eyes were sharp and impossibly black, like looking at James when he was angry. That hurt more. "Not safe?" she repeated thickly, her voice sounding so very rough, rougher than usual. "And who said that?"
"Albus Dumbledore."
Hope scowled viciously. The headmaster always seemed to put her on edge these days. It felt uncommonly like he was watching her annoyingly closely, and why Hope couldn't quite say. But it made her uncomfortable.
"I have to go," she said decisively, hopping down onto her feet. "I've got stuff to do and antidepressants to take, so goodbye."
Professor Lupin balked slightly, but he let her go, a bit flummoxed.
It was late and the sky was unbelievably black with tiny pin-pricks of silver against the darkness. If Hope had had it her way, she would be out star-gazing, maybe even with George, but she was trying to get through this Ancient Runes essay.
She raked a hand through her loosely braided hair, exhaling a slow sigh and almost dislodging her wand from where it was tucked behind her ear, its tip being used to illuminate the parchment and the book she had lying open before her.
The Ankh was a symbol used commonly throughout Egypt, and it is a symbol well known in both the muggle and Wizarding worlds. It symbolizes life, but it is also associated with the Egyptian glyph for magical protection, sa. It is also said that the symbol is one of the sunrise—
Hope stilled her quill at the sound of something she couldn't decipher. She listened intently for a moment longer, and heard it again, the sound of something not unlike a pebble hitting glass. She replaced her quill and ink on the bedside table as she threw open the curtains that hid her bed from view, grinning and flushing with delight as she padded over to the window, opening in slightly.
George Weasley was hovering on his broomstick outside her dorm.
"What on earth are you doing?" she asked in awe, earning her a grin in return.
"Kidnapping you."
"You do understand the idea of kidnapping, don't you?" she asked in a dry voice. "You don't really tell the person you're kidnapping that you're kidnapping them."
"If I did that, you'd freeze to death," George said conversationally, before changing it to coaxing, "come on, Hope…stargazing…"
Her eyes lit with that manic light at the mention of one of her most favorite pastimes.
"I love you so much right now!" she whispered fervently so as not to wake up her dorm mates, leaning through the open window to give him a quick, firm kiss. "I'm going to get dressed, wait there."
George could only mouth wordlessly at the girl as she grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom to change out of her pajamas. His brain was still trying to process that she had said "I love you" to him. Those were three words that the pair had never uttered, but the relationship was so new…she probably hadn't even realized what she'd said.
"Budge over, handsome."
George obediently slid back to accommodate her as she hoisted herself side-saddle onto the broomstick, wrapping an arm around his neck as they shot forward and into the night.
"You know, star-gazing always works better when it's not quite so cold," Hope mentioned in a light voice.
"Ah but I have an ulterior motive," George said, wrapping an arm gently but securely around her waist, pulling her closer to him and enjoying the flush that adorned her face.
"Oh?" she all but whispered.
"If you get cold you have me."
She laughed outright. "Oh, my gods, you are completely terrible!"
"I get the feeling you've called me that before," he said in a musing voice.
"It's entirely possible," Hope agreed as he ducked his head to feather a kiss to her lips. Her fingers curled into the collar of his jacket as he took her breath away, only allowing her to breathe after a number of seconds had passed. "Maybe not the best thing to do on a broom, Georgie," she said lightly.
"And why would that be?" His eyes were gleaming in the darkness as he swayed the broom slightly.
"Because I'll kill you," Hope threatened lightly as her grip on him tightened. "If you make me fall, I'll kill you."
George tilted his head back to laugh at her words. "Already forgotten what you said to me first year?"
Hope screwed up her face in thought as she tried to recall exactly what she had said to him, and then she remembered.
"George?" she whispered.
"Hm?"
"Don't let me fall."
He chuckled ahead of her, one hand squeezing hers where they were still locked around him. "Never."
"Oh, shut up!" she muttered, "that was a completely different situation, and you know it!"
"Maybe," George sang in an off-key voice, before changing the subject a bit abruptly, "There was something that I wanted to ask you."
Hope leaned backwards slightly to look at him in the eye. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and embarrassed, not always a good combination. "What is it?" she asked, both curious and cautious.
She could feel him twisting his fingers.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
Hope laughed. "I thought we already settled that?"
George shrugged. "Maybe I like hearing you say it," he admitted, cheeks pink.
He was absolutely adorable "Oh, I don't know," Hope said with a wink, "I've met this really amazing guy."
"Amazing guy?" George repeated with a quirked eyebrow and a grin. "Anyone I know?"
"You might," Hope acquiesced, "see, he's got this pranking thing and he's much cleverer than people give him credit for, sound like anyone you know?"
"Possibly," George said, "and what would you say to this amazing guy if he asked you to be his girlfriend?"
"Hm," Hope pondered lightly, "well, I would say that there would only be one man for the job."
It was only much later that Hope realized that they didn't get much around to star-gazing, but she didn't mind too much.
The day officially sucked, that was Hope Potter's not so modest opinion. It was five in the bloody morning when she had awoken, the last thing she had wanted to do was be kept awake well into the morning when she could be sleeping, especially since today was the day of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. Her temper was bad enough that it could probably boil over a kettle of tea.
First Malfoy claimed that his arm was still causing him trouble, when the truth was he didn't want to play in the weather that was raging outside…wimp (Madam Pomfrey, bless her soul, was threatening to file an inquiry with St. Mungo's if his pain progressed further than the next week; busted). And now, there was the completely horrible weather outside, she hadn't even wanted to leave the comforts of her bed, but what could you do?
Parvati had tied her hair into a tightly braided bun so that the wind wouldn't whip it across her face too much, so that was one thing she wouldn't have to worry about, she thought to herself as she sat huddled with her Quidditch teammates. They were all so thickly padded down with clothes and the minimum protective gear allowed during games -Professor McGonagall had long since warned Hope that no knives were allowed on her person during the match, and why was that even a question, Miss Potter?-, that all of them could probably fall about fifty feet and still bounce back.
Oliver was the only one who seemed both very concerned, and very cheerful. Hope had to be commended for only threatening to kill him twice.
"If he gives me any more hints, I swear I'm going to take my wand—" Hope muttered under her breath to Angelina who burst into silent giggles as Katie made her lower her wand, for fear of her actually taking up her threat to her boyfriend.
"Calm, Hope, remember?" she asked mildly, "deep breaths, all right? Keep the death threats to a minimum, yeah?"
Hope gave her an unlady-like grunt that wouldn't have been amiss with a couple of trolls. "I've only done two today!" she complained.
"And it's a great start," Alicia said, reaching over to pat Hope on the head like she was a child that had finally done something right. Hope whacked her hand away with a sneer.
"Oh, shut up," she snarled as the girls laughed at her. "You all think you're so clever."
"Very clever, yes," Angelina agreed.
Hope hefted a blunt butter knife at the dark-skinned girl. "I'm not afraid to use this on you, Johnson. I've got skills."
"With lock picks," Angelina jibed back, "don't worry, I think I'm safe."
Hope shook her head and mouthed wordlessly at her, completely dumbfounded. "I can throw knives!" Hope sputtered. She wasn't as good as Nath, but was better at it than hefting a sword, that was for sure.
"Wow," Ron said impressed, "I think that's the first time I've seen her almost at a loss for words."
"I must be imitating you, then," Hope said in irritation, regaining a bit of her fire.
"Rwar!" Fred said, doing a bad imitation himself of a cat. "Wow! I didn't know you could be this…snappish."
"Snappish?" Hope said with a canted eyebrow. "My friend, it seems you are very confused, because this is the wonderful sarcasm that I enjoy employing on a daily basis."
"Do you really?" Fred asked in mock fascination. "I had no idea!"
"That could possibly stem from some serious memory loss that you should talk to Madam Pomfrey about," Hope said in a thoughtful voice, "or maybe if you pulled your lips off of Angie's for five seconds, you would know all this."
There was a collective "Oooh!" from those nearest as Fred's whole face burned brighter than his hair.
"Booyah," Hope said, pointing the butter knife at him know, "you cannot outsmart the master."
"I concede to one greater than I," Fred said solemnly as his twin –who had been surprisingly quiet throughout this whole exchange– sniggered beside Hope, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist. He had known something was different about them, but he didn't mention it. They were much more casual together than they had been before, and that was good. It was hard to imagine one without the other now, even more so than it had when they had first been considered 'a thing'.
"Hey, Pretty-boy," Hope laughed, drawing his attention away from his thoughts and to the black-and-yellow clothed Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain, Cedric Diggory, "ready to lose today?"
"Only if you are," the older boy said in a good naturedly way. "May the best man or woman win."
He held out his hand to her, which Oliver eyed suspiciously, but Hope didn't have the same reservations, grinning as she took it, shaking it once before bumping fists and wiggling her fingers.
"Wait a second," George said, a bit dumbfounded, "you have a handshake?"
"The Seekers do," Hope said with a shrug, "not including Malfoy of course. What? Doesn't anyone else have a handshake?"
"No," they all said.
"Hey, hey, Cho!" Hope yelled over to the Ravenclaw table, making the Chinese girl whom she had bested already on several occasions look up from her seat.
"Yeah?"
"Do the Seekers have a handshake?"
"Definitely," she said with a laugh.
Hope smirked at her boyfriend. "I guess you're not as cool as us, hot-stuff."
She was born ready for this match, and she knew she would have nailed it completely if Malfoy was playing, because she never lost to Malfoy, he was fair game, but Cedric on the other hand, he was going to require a bit more effort, but that didn't scare Hope.
She was used to giving her all during Quidditch matches, and she was going to show Professor McGonagall that she didn't need anybody to watch her be as good as she could be (because the woman had been downright scary, not wanting her to practice with the team if it limited Sirius Black's efforts to attack her; but Hope didn't care if he did attack her, because there was no way she was losing a Quidditch match).
She thought she would've enjoyed trouncing the opposing team more if it was Slytherin, as she was feeling particularly angry towards Snape who had subbed for Professor Lupin recently while he was sick and he'd been downright distasteful. Hope was well documenting everything he docked her on points.
But she didn't have time to think about that as the whistle blew, barely heard over the raging storm around, and the fourteen players lifted off.
Even with the goggles that repelled the water, Hope was having trouble seeing that glimmer of gold in the ungodly heavenly downpour. It was as if the sky was deciding that it really didn't want Hufflepuff and Gryffindor to play against each other today, and Hope was all for that.
She clenched her hands tightly around the shaft of her broom, attempting to increase her control of it, but even that was difficult.
"Come on!" she scolded herself as she finally caught sight of the tiny ball she had been searching for, for almost the whole game, in between avoiding bludgers. She looked up from her goal –something one should never do, especially not against Cedric Diggory– and that was when she saw him. The great black dog from Surrey. The Grim.
"I don't have time for you!" she yelled at him, turning back towards the Snitch, but the overwhelming sense of dread Hope had briefly felt at the beginning of the year before she'd stabbed the dementor in the face and watched it crumple to ash.
But Hope didn't have the midnight sword up here. She didn't have any of her knives, and she certainly didn't have her wand.
She felt so cold, so very cold, like her insides were being ripped apart by it, and the screaming, the screaming—
"Not Hope, not Hope, please not Hope!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…"
"You can't have her! She's just a baby, you don't understand what you're doing—!"
She couldn't breathe…she needed to get away…and Hope felt uncommonly like her body had seized up and she was floating away, watching her body slip from the broom, and then she was gone.
Cedric was inches away from the Snitch when he looked back, something one should never do, especially not against Hope Potter, and what he saw drew him up short and scared the living shit out of him at the same time.
Hope would have caught the Snitch if not for those dementors that were close enough to form a tight ring around her, and then they drew closer and she slipped off the broom, falling towards the earth with no indication of slowing down.
Without giving the Snitch a second thought, Cedric dived after her, a hand outstretched for hers, but it was soaking and the clothes were slippery, it was like trying to grab a hold of an eel.
The ground was getting closer and closer, and Cedric was growing more desperate. A fall from that height could kill someone, and if it didn't kill her, it would certainly incapacitate her.
At the last possible second, he snagged her wrist, barely managing to pull her up a little before they both tumbled to the ground. Cedric's injuries were nothing compared to Hope's though, something he had to repeat to Madam Pomfrey when she tried to look him over as Professor Dumbledore removed the Gryffindor Seeker on a stretcher -limp, arms dangling over the sides- and from the distance, he couldn't for the life of him tell if she was dead or alive.
Hope blinked her eyes open, looking around in confusion. She was in a place she didn't recognize, so full of warm colors and loose curtains.
"Need to get a handle on that projecting, babe."
She twisted around at the familiar voice, spine relaxing in relief. "Quinn!"
Quinn smiled but didn't open their eyes. They were sitting cross-legged in the center of a sigil drawn in chalk on the floor, hovering a foot above it. "Someone needs to teach you proper mental shielding. I teach a class."
"Uh," Hope said helpfully. "Where exactly am I?"
"Exactly where you want to be," Quinn opened their eyes and it wasn't as jarring as it had been the first time, to see the empty socket where one of their eyes had once been. "Far from Hogwarts, far from toil…somewhere that's peaceful and quiet."
Hope coughed politely. "I think I like a little chaos."
Quinn laughed, uncrossing their legs and landing lightly on their feet. "Don't we all, but we don't want chaos all the time…you like to run off on your own sometimes."
"How did you—? Hang on, how were you doing that floating thing?" Hope was being a little slow on the uptake. "Are you a…?" They must've been, right? They'd given her enchanted glasses…but Hope hadn't really put much thought into it.
Quinn sighed in annoyance. "Witchcraft and wizardry have a very different meaning where I'm from…we like to laugh at wand-users, to be perfectly honest."
"So, what are you?" Hope asked flummoxed.
Quinn's fingers twisted together and a chair suddenly collided painfully with Hope's legs, forcing her to sit sharply. "I'm a magician, academically trained. We used to be called wizards but then people confused us with UK magic-users and it was a whole mess." Quinn rolled their single eye. "Our magic is different because we learned it. We weren't born with it, we didn't make any deals, we're just a bunch of stubborn bastards, but you, on the other hand…" Quinn considered her intently. "I still don't know what you are. I'd say Sorcerer, given your family line, and you're far too young to be making any deals with gods -well, that's always up for debate-, but you radiate too much…you're an anomaly."
"I'm average," Hope told them dryly.
"Eh, you're above average, stop selling yourself short," Quinn waved her off, "you work harder and longer than your peers because it takes more effort to understand the theory behind the magic you use in school. No one's a genius at everything, that would be ridiculous, besides, your brain isn't wired for that kind of magic anyways."
Hope eyed them. "What kind of magic am I wired for, then?"
"Diane thinks Physical, we've got a bet going," Quinn grinned. "Personally, I think you're more…catch-all of magical disciplines, but you'll figure that out later."
"I don't understand," Hope said slowly. "I'm so…confused."
"Yeah, astralling does that to you, it's kinda like a bad acid trip…don't do drugs." Quinn gave her a severe look before sliding their signature yellow-lensed glasses into place. "But I could teach you, at least, I could help you get a jump start on it."
"Why do I need to get a jump start?"
"Well," Quinn hummed, "your magic's a little…weird. Like Dean's, but more so. Honestly, Dean's more functional than you. That's what happens when you lock a magical core into a body that doesn't need it…I'm explaining it badly, no one did that to you, you were just born that way. Some people are. Their body is a cage to contain the magic, but for others, their body is a conduit through which magic flows like a—"
"A wellspring," Hope said and Quinn snapped their fingers.
"Exactly! Because you're a cage, things that are easy for everyone else, are difficult for you, it just affects how you learn moving forward," Quinn explained. "Wand-magic makes you feel like there's ants under your skin, yeah?" They didn't wait for her to nod. "Cages feel like that, but it's not like you can be taken out of Hogwarts, that'd leave you as half-trained fodder for any monster with a veracious appetite."
"Yay," Hope sound without feeling.
"But you need training, psychic training," Quinn sighed. "We can't have you astralling to the Blood-Soaked Tree every time you have a nightmare."
"Wait—what?" Hope balked, but Quinn was leaning forward, moving their fingers fluidly and Hope was falling into blackness.
All things considered, Hope wasn't bad off. The bruises were gone, nothing to indicate how far she'd fallen as far as she had, even with Cedric diving after her.
For a painstaking moment, George had thought that she was dead, but Madam Pomfrey assured him that the pallor of her skin was just an after-effect of the Dementors, which was a relief to say the least. It had been lucky that Diggory had caught her when he did, Madam Pomfrey had told him, or Hope's injuries might be a good deal worse.
Hope stirred faintly, turning her head towards him slightly, but she did not awaken, even when he reached over to cup her clammy cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb over it. He was a little worried that she wouldn't wake up, but it seemed he didn't have to wait long, even if it had only been about fifteen minutes since the game had concluded and ten since Diggory had left with his team with a fervent thank you from the Gryffindors gathered around Hope's bed.
"Lucky the ground was so soft," Angelina said in a hushed voice, leaning slightly into his twin.
"Lucky Diggory caught her," Fred corrected, "who knows how bad it could have been if he hadn't?"
George knew that Fred wasn't wrong there, but that didn't stop him from wishing that he had been the one that caught her.
"I thought she was dead for sure," Katie squeaked, completely white under the mud, probably not the best thing to say under the circumstances. Dean, who was standing with Seamus next to Ron and Hermione, glowered.
"At least she didn't break anything," Alicia said, trying to force her voice to remain calm, "her head was only bruised, so that's good."
Hope shifted again, and this time, her eyes shot open and she lurched into a sitting position. "What the FUCK!"
"Whoa! Calm down!" Angelina said quickly, trying to force her back. "Its all right, you've had a nasty fa—"
"Where's Quinn?" Hope demanded. "That-that asshole owes me answers!"
"Who?" most of them asked in confused and Dean coughed.
"Quinn hasn't been here," he said and her eyes fixed on him, furious and black.
"They've got some explaining to do!" Hope snarled, jabbing a finger at them. "Come Christmas, I'm gonna murder them!"
George arched an eyebrow.
"I think they're dating Mum, now," Dean offered conversationally.
"That won't stop me," Hope hissed wrathfully. "I'm gonna beat the living daylights out of them!"
"All right, that's my cue," Madam Pomfrey swept in. "Take this and calm down, Miss Potter."
Hope glowered, taking the cup and downing a particularly acrid tasting potion. "Gods, what is that? It's revolting!"
"Almost everything I've ever given you is revolting," the older woman said dryly, "now drink this."
The second was slightly better in taste, but not by much. "What was that?"
"Draught of Peace to calm your aggression," Madam Pomfrey said, unimpressed. "You can leave in five minutes."
Hope made a face behind her back. She strode away to deal with a few students who had gotten colds from the weather outside, allowing Hope the opportunity to get all the details from her friends (because Hermione had a tight grip on one arm and George had the other one in his hand without any sign of actually releasing her any time soon) and teammates.
"So, what happened?"
"Er…do you remember anything?" Angelina asked nervously.
"Yes," Hope said dryly, "a couple Dementors thinking of me as their next meal is something you don't typically forget."
All those gathered around her winced at the bite in her sarcasm.
"Well, er," Fred said uncomfortably, sharing a glance with his twin, "you sort of fell of your broom, about fifty feet; Cedric said the Dementors sort of swarmed in on you, he barely managed to catch you in time."
Hope's eyebrows furrowed together, but she must be dead to the world at that point.
"We thought you died," Alicia said, her voice laced with fear, making Hermione quiver and make a small noise as tears welled in her eyes once more.
Hope's mouth set in a firm line. It was different to be in a place where she had people who actually cared if she lived or died…it was times like these that she wished that the school year never ended so that she wouldn't have to go back to the dreaded Dursleys.
"I'm fine," she said, trying to assuage their fears, "you heard Madam Pomfrey, I'll be out of here in no time…did we lose the match?" That should've been the thing that she dreaded the most, but she was feeling numb and drained and with a raging headache.
"Yeah," George admitted by her side, drawing her eyes to meet his. She couldn't help but notice just how pale he was that she could now see each and every freckle that was on his face; he must've been really worried. "Madam Hooch decided to void the points of the Snitch since neither of you caught it before the Dementors got onto the field, so the points were whatever was left. We only lost by ten points, so that'll make it much easier."
"Yeah, Hope, it's not all bad," Fred agreed, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, "if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"
"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least twenty points," George interjected.
"But if they beat Ravenclaw," Fred theorized.
"No way, Ravenclaw's too good…"
Hermione squeezed her hand and she looked up into her eyes. She and Ron had been strangely quiet throughout the whole exchange, and Ron seemed to be hiding something behind his back.
"Ron?" Hope's eyes fastened on what looked like an oddly clumped blanket. "What's that?"
Ron shared a distinctly uncomfortable look with his brothers, but they weren't going to help him with this one, he was on his own. "Er," he began, clearing his throat slightly, "well, it's about your Nimbus…"
"What about my Nimbus?" she demanded.
"Well," Hermione decided to help him with that seeing as the twins weren't going to, "when you fell off, it got blown away in the storm…and it, it hit the Whomping Willow."
"Oh," Hope said bleakly. "Is that all?"
Hope must've spent most of the weekend asleep or trying to look up astral projection in the library, and as unbelievably ridiculous as it was, there wasn't a single book on the subject.
"You would think there would be a bigger interest in it?" Hope huffed in irritation. "But, no, I just get a small passage about it 'being an out of body experience that is more fraught with danger than anything else, as many have been left soulless husks from incorrect shielding prior to attempting it', then why bother mentioning it at all?"
"Are you sure you actually astral projected?" Hermione asked, ever the rational, ever the doubtful. "Maybe you were just dreaming? You said you like Quinn, you look up to—"
"Yeah, but I couldn't dream up the stuff they said." Hope rolled her eyes. "Miss Diane went to school with them and she said that they were the top of the class, like super smart, like you dialed up to twelve—"
Hermione pinked, flattered.
"—they were the Dean's favorite and everything, and I never told anyone about how hard I find it to spells if I don't know the theory behind it because the one time I did in first year someone looked at me like I was an idiot." Hope resituated her bag on her shoulder. "Trust me, there's something definitely weird going on with my magic."
Ron had to concede. "She did take two Killing Curses to the head," he pointed out. "Normal people can't do that…maybe her magic is different."
Hope pointed to Ron. "Brings up a point."
Hermione held up her hands. "I can't even argue because I still have no idea how you're impervious to that."
"Maybe I'm a god," Hope smirked, "stuck in human form. That would be badass."
Ron snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes. "That would be likely."
"If I was a god," Hope intoned, miffed, "you would be smote."
"I'm not sure that's how it—" Hermione sighed exhaustively, giving up.
As it was, Hope was rather reluctant to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday, especially if Snape was going to be there. Apparently, the sentiment was shared with Ron –who had had to clean bedpans the last time they had met face to face (though it had been to defend Hermione, which was very sweet).
"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," Ron decided furiously.
"I'll join you," Hope agreed mutinously.
Hermione couldn't help but purse her lips at the rebellious nature of her two friends, but she could do nothing to curb their attitudes, try as she might. She peered through the door, and was pleasantly surprised to see raggedy Professor Lupin placing graded papers in the vacant spots where students would sit soon enough.
"It's all right," she called to her friends, "Professor Lupin's back!"
Ron and Hope tried to get through the doorway at the same time and just ended up collapsing onto the floor, looking up at the older man who quirked an eyebrow at them, his mouth curling upwards into a smile.
"I take it I was missed?" he asked, his voice flooded with humor.
Hope was feeling pretty impartial to him as a person, but she still appreciated him as a teacher. He'd surpassed Quirrell and Lockhart with ease.
"Snape was awful," Hope felt the need to tell him.
Professor Lupin laughed. "Was he really?"
"Yes," Ron and surprisingly Hermione had to agree.
"He was a tosspot to Hermione," Hope felt the need to add, ignoring Hermione's reproachful sound, as they placed all of their things on their desks. "Hey, you gave me an E!"
She flipped through her paper. "Oh…wrong location, my bad."
Professor Lupin spared her a smile. "We all make mistakes, just be more careful next time, the number of points I dock will be more."
"Right-o," Hope agreed, "mistakes, check, but back to Snape. Utter tosspot! You know he called Hermione an insufferable know-it-all?"
"I apologize on his behalf, Hermione," Professor Lupin said sincerely. "That was very rude of him."
Hermione gave him a slight smile. "Thank you, Professor."
"He's not coming back as a substitute, is he?" Ron asked, his voice on the brink of horror.
Professor Lupin couldn't help but laugh lightly at that. The class began soon after that, and the three had to take their seats. This lesson was far more enjoyable than the last one Hope had had in that room, she had to admit, though she was a little confused as to why Professor Lupin kept her behind after the class had ended.
"I heard about the match," he said, sparing her a glance and noticing the frown that marred her lips, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick."
"Me too," Hope muttered, raking a hand through her hair, unintentionally giving it a more windswept look. She didn't notice him looking away quickly. "So, I guess you heard the Dementors using me for their next meal?"
Professor Lupin winced. "Yes, I did," he admitted, "I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They've been growing restless for some time…" He glanced to her, but her eyes were not on him, nor were they green. They were a hard, black onyx, filled with an emotion he thought he recognized.
"They do not attack you because you are weak."
Hope's lips drew downwards into a frown, the only acknowledgment until she spoke that she had heard what he had said. "I suppose that it must be my charming disposition, then?" she said, her words tinged with bitterness.
"Not even close," Professor Lupin disagreed fervently. "The Dementors affect you worst of all because there are horrors in your past that the others could scarcely imagine." Though there were perhaps a few others in the school that had experienced similar trauma; recalling Parvati's boggart still gave him chills.
"You're saying they're…attracted…to bad memories?" Hope said, her eyebrows furrowing into a contemplative expression.
"Very much so," he agreed. "Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life." Hope's fingers curled up and into a fist. "And the worst that happened to you, Hope, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed," Hope said sourly. "I killed one with a sword…but I can't take it up with me during Quidditch, can I?" Hope swallowed thickly, turning her eyes towards the floor, the words echoing in her head. "I'd never heard my mother's voice before, you know? But I don't want to hear her begging Voldemort to spare me."
She missed the pained look on Professor Lupin's face, but he couldn't restrain himself from placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hope—"
She shook his hand off. "Hermione and Ron said you did a spell on the train, something that repelled the dementor…could you teach me?"
He blinked, his eyes holding the barest of surprise. "I don't—"
"Please!" Her eyes implored him. "I promise I'll work really hard!"
"It is very advanced," Professor Lupin said, "it might not be—"
"Please," she said again, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. Besides, it was hardly a good idea to let someone who was clearly a Dementor-magnet wander around without any protection. "I don't have a problem with putting extra work in."
And that determinedness was all Lily.
"Well… all right," he sighed heavily, "I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."
There was a loud buzzing that pierced the air and Hope mumbled a quick "Sorry," pulling out what looked to be a mobile from her pocket but Professor Lupin thought that was impossible, given that magic didn't really mix well with muggle electronics. "Hello?...Hi, Quinn…you're sending me—? No, I haven't gotten any—"
Several books appeared out of nowhere, falling loudly onto the ground behind her. Hope rolled her eyes. "Never mind, I've got them…you're gonna make me work through the holiday?...not all of it, they say, whatever, yes, I'll see you soon. Bye."
She stooped to pick the books up.
"Sorry," Hope offered again with a heavy sigh, only faintly amused, "I've gotten a mentor that I didn't ask for."
He frowned in confusion, but didn't have the chance to ask, as she was already tucking the books into her bulging bag and was out the door with a "See you, Professor!"
It wasn't every day that Hope Potter plopped herself down at the Hufflepuff table like she belonged there, and almost never when she was grinning that brightly.
"Hello," she said in a voice that matched her rather sunny disposition, which was a bit surprising; she was usually only this cheerful when she was with either Ron and Hermione or George.
"Hello," Cedric said, arching an eyebrow at her demeanor.
"I've gotten you a thank you gift for saving my life," Hope continued in a manner similar to one who was commenting on the weather, but Cedric supposed nearly dying was practically a norm for her now.
"Oh, you didn't need to do that," Cedric said quickly and courteously.
"I always pay my debts," Hope said, waving him off, "Besides, I get the feeling you'll like it."
Cedric heaved a sigh. "Alright, what is it?" he said in a despairing voice.
"You ever been to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop in Hogsmeade?" Hope asked in a falsely light voice.
"No," Cedric said blankly, he'd never heard of such a place, or maybe he wasn't looking hard enough. "Why?"
"Oh, no reason," Hope said with a grin, "it just so happens that Cho is a fan of the food there."
Cedric could feel his cheeks enflaming at the mention of the Ravenclaw that had long since caught his eye, but he had never had enough nerve to ask her out. Leave daring nerve to the Gryffindors.
"I've paid for a lunch in full for the pair of you, under the name Diggory," Hope said, the grin widening at the sight of the red splotches appearing on his cheekbones. "And I've told Cho that you are going to ask her something in a few minutes." The look of unbridled horror on his face was quite comical, Hope had to admit as she actually burst out laughing, before taking the time to walk around the table, pull him upright and push him towards where Cho was waiting, trying hard to not glance over at the Hufflepuff expectantly. "Go and turn on that Diggory charm, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" And then she gave him one last push before running away faster than Cedric had any time to respond. But he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't anything that Hope wouldn't do.
Meanwhile, Hope hummed to herself as she skipped down the hallway, pleased at the turnout of her devious little plot. Poor Cedric Diggory just needed a harsh nudge in Cho's direction.
Speaking of relationships, Hope couldn't restrain the yelp in surprise when a pair of strong arms encircled her waist and twisted her around. She had to wrap her arms quickly around George's neck to keep herself from falling.
"George! Don't do that! You scared me!"
A pleased grin graced his lips. "Oh, can you still be scared?"
Hope rolled her eyes, though her lips still twitched. "Oh, yes, I'm certain there are a number of things I still fear." She grimaced slightly. "I'm pretty sure your mother is near the top of the list."
George couldn't restrain the laughter that bubbled from his lips as well. "Any sane person would have her on their list," he agreed as she stood on her tip-toes in an effort to make herself closer to his height, but that was a hopeless goal, in both of their opinions; he was always going to tower of her. "What were you doing with Diggory?"
She smirked at how amused he sounded. "Worried, Weasley?"
"Not quite," he said with a grin of his own, "I know what your type is."
"Oh, really?" Hope said, enjoying their flirty banter as she always did. "And what exactly is my type?"
"Oh, you know," George said vaguely, "there are five ways to tell."
"Only five?" Hope asked with a snigger.
"One, he's got my eyes, two he's got my prankster attitude, three he's wearing my shirt, four he's holding my girlfriend, and five his name is George Weasley," George said with a wink as he lowered his head to catch her lips with his own, smothering her laughter.
"You're doing that on purpose!" she accused him, her cheeks appropriately flushed from the heat of the kiss.
"I have no idea that you're talking about," he disagreed, but his smirk told a different story. "Anyways, I came to rescue you, and then kidnap you again."
Hope rolled her eyes good-naturedly, gathering that it was highly unlikely that he would ever understand the concept of 'kidnapping'. "And why are you kidnapping me?"
"Oh, no reason," George said, but then he dragged her quickly around the corner, glancing around quickly as if searching for some hidden enemy.
"George? Is something wrong?" Hope couldn't help but ask, her curiosity piqued.
"No, nothing's wrong," he said quickly.
"We just wanted to be sure you weren't followed," an identical voice finished for him, and Hope couldn't help but jump at the sight of Fred, grinning widely.
And then her eyes narrowed slightly. "All right," she drawled, "what're you two up to?"
The identical affronted looks were adorable, but that wouldn't help them.
Fred took the initiative and placed a bit of folded parchment in her hand with a smile. "Think of it as an early Christmas-slash-Glad-You're-Well gift."
She stared at the parchment and then at the grinning pair before arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly is this bit of parchment supposed to be?"
"Bit of parchment!" Fred squawked.
George on the other hand gave her a beaming smile. "That, there, is the secret to our success."
"The secret to your success?" Hope said, her lips quirking. "And here I thought your success was all your own."
"Shh!" George said, his eyes shining. "Don't tell anyone else that!"
"So, what exactly is it?" Hope asked again.
Fred grinned. "Watch and learn, Princess. I solemnly swear that we are up to no good." He said the words and tapped his wand against the parchment and to Hope's astonishment, ink began to spill and spread over the parchment, crisscrossing and curling until a crest was formed over an image of the castle on the front, proclaiming:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers
Are Proud to Present
The Marauder's Map
Hope parted the folds with interest and her jaw dropped. It was an extensive map of Hogwarts, a very extensive map of Hogwarts, including the castle itself, the grounds, and what looked like a number of secret passageways. There were hundreds of tiny dots moving around over the parchment, each being connected to a name. She could see Hermione's in the library, Ron's in the common room, and—
"Is that really—?" she started to ask.
"Dumbledore," Fred agreed.
"In his study," George added.
"Pacing," Fred finished.
"He does that a lot," George said, having to get the last word in.
"Seriously?" Hope said in awe. "So, this map shows everything in the castle?"
"Everything."
"Everyone," George corrected.
"Where they are," Fred added.
"What they're doing."
"Every minute—"
"Of every day!"
"Oh, this is brilliant," Hope muttered more to herself than to them. "I doubt you two made it yourselves."
"Oi!" they said highly offended. "I'll have you know we nicked that beauty from Filch's office first year! When have you ever nicked something from his office in your first year?"
Hope had to admit that she had never had the drive to do so; the only person she really got into trouble with was Snape.
"Mm-hm," she said, only half listening to them, still completely fascinated by the parchment in her hands.
Fred rolled his eyes at his twin, as if to say 'she's your girlfriend'. "Anyways," he said, grabbing her attention briefly, "don't forget to wipe it after you've used, otherwise anyone can read it."
"Just give it a tap and say 'Mischief Managed' and it'll go blank," George explained, tapping his wand against the parchment to show how the ink faded until it looked like a bit of ratty old paper once more.
"You guys are officially my favorite blokes," Hope said seriously, "but Fred, the next time you call me Princess, get ready for a nice slap."
Fred chuckled nervously as George sniggered beside him, the traitor.
As the Christmas holiday stretched closer, snow blanketed the surrounding wilderness, making Hogwarts look like it was a picture in a fairy tale.
Hope was heading out soon with Hermione and Ron to Hogsmeade for the last visit of the year. She'd been feeling a bit cooped up lately, but she was done with all her schoolwork and she'd read the books that Quinn had wanted her to before the term ended.
But Hope wasn't in a good mood, because, per the headmaster, Hope wasn't allowed to leave the grounds for Christmas because it 'wasn't safe', which Hope thought was absolute bullshit and when she'd told Quinn, they'd been furious.
"Don't worry, babe, I'll sort it out," they'd promised, so Hope let it slip from her mind.
Sadly, the twins wouldn't be joining them in Hogsmeade. Percy had, in a fit of rage, barred them from leaving the castle citing that they needed to make an attempt to study their OWLs which were tests all witches and wizards had to take during their fifth year. Apparently, they made Hope's final exams look like a cake-walk.
George wasn't doing much studying for his OWLs, but even if he had been trying, he would have been very easily distracted by his girlfriend. So, basically Percy had to force her to leave -which she did, looking a little miffed- him alone in order for him to study, but Hope doubted he'd be doing much of that.
"Hope, are you ready?" Ron called over to her, forcing her to drag her eyes from the sight and grin.
"Well, yeah, Weasley! What took you so long?"
Ron's ears burned a dark red. "Sorry," he said, "I lost my gloves, that's all."
Hope smirked. Somehow, she didn't think that was the reason. "All right, Hermione!"
"Coming!" a voice uttered from up the staircase as Hermione skipped down them, somehow managing not to trip -Hope would never have managed it, that much she knew. Hermione grinned brightly at the pair of them, to bothering to smother her glee at having both of her best friends with her for the Hogsmeade visit. She would never admit it, but she was a little jealous of George because of how much of Hope's attention he got, so she was going to enjoy this visit while it lasted. "I'm ready!"
Hope grinned and linked her arms with Hermione and Ron's. "Come on, I want to check out Honeydukes before it gets too packed and empty of sweets!"
"Hear, hear!" Ron said in agreement, making Hermione giggle, something that earned her a grin from the boy, which in turn made her blush a bright pink. Hope astutely ignored them and pretended that she hadn't seen a thing, but even that was difficult to do.
"I already got you guys your Christmas presents," she said conversationally, "I just need to get Fred something."
Hermione nodded in understanding and Ron grinned that she had already gotten them presents before at least one of his brothers. "What'd you get George?" he asked, not really sure if he wanted to know.
"The Book of Potions by Zygmunt Budge," Hope said with a shrug and Hermione tripped over her feet, gaping at Hope.
"A book?" Ron's brow furrowed. "Seems a bit…impersonal."
"He's totally mental about it," Hope said and Ron stared. "You haven't heard him going on about it? I asked him what he'd do if I got it for him to Christmas—"
"What'd he say?" Hermione asked, eyes still wide; she knew just how important and rare that book was.
"He pushed Fred almost out the window and said he'd marry me," Hope sniggered. Fred hadn't been too pleased, but it there was one thing that could be said about George Weasley, it was that he was absolutely crazy about potion making, which was ironic, given who taught the subject.
They both laughed, continuing on their trek.
Fred would be getting a number of Dungbombs and some potions supplies that she had heard him grumbling about being low on. Ron's presents consisted of a number of sweets and a book on Chess strategy that she thought he might like. Hermione's was only two books -but ones that she had been practically begging Hope to get her in an unsubtle way- and some peppermint toads and sugar quills which were her favorite.
"We should hit Honeydukes before Three Broomsticks," Ron said as they left the shop, his teeth chattering in the cold. "Come on! Please!"
His blue eyes turned big and enormous, the perfect puppy dog eyes, if Hope had ever seen one, using his powers on his two friends. Hope and Hermione gave in, though they weren't much against the idea in the first place, so that helped.
Since they already had sweets gifted to each other, not that they knew that, they settled for merely looking around at all the varieties of snacks offered.
"Would you eat one of these if I dared you?" Ron asked Hope in a surprisingly serious voice as he held out a blood-flavored lollipop.
"Is that how you see me, Ron?" Hope said with an arched eyebrow. "A blood-sucking maniac?"
"On Mondays," Ron had to admit, making her laugh.
"Nobody likes Mondays, Ron," she said, wagging a finger at him, "not even Hermione." But that was mostly because a good deal of her classes were on Monday, Hope was lucky that she only had to go back in time to do Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and with Ron none the wiser, or maybe not.
Ron grunted in acknowledgement before holding out a jar of Cockroach Clusters.
"No, Ron."
He gave a small pout and Hermione giggled.
"I meant to ask you," she added as they drifted away from the Unusual Tastes section and to the Hot section, "what was that parchment you were pouring over yesterday?"
"Oh, that," Hope said with a grin, "that was a brilliant gift from Fred and George. It's a complete map of Hogwarts! It shows you where everything and everyone is! It's so cool!" Hermione and Ron couldn't be deaf to the obvious excitement in her voice.
Ron, however, couldn't help but be a little irked. "But I'm their brother!" he complained. "Why wouldn't they give it to me?"
"Maybe because you don't get into as much trouble as Hope does," Hermione said, rolling her eyes slightly at the pair of them, ignoring the indignant "Oi!" from Hope.
"I resent that!" Hope said as they purchased a good bit of chocolate before making their way into the harsh cold December wind, wrapping their scarves tightly about their faces as they battled to get to the Three Broomsticks. The pub was almost completely filled, and it was very noisy, but the trio had no problem with finding a nice seat and a few Butterbeers to sip.
"Oh, heaven," Ron mumbled into his drink.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just a drink, Ron," she said in amusement.
"But it's the best drink in the world!" Ron claimed, raising his arms upwards as if he was exalting the Butterbeer Gods.
Hope couldn't smother her sniggers fast enough. "All right, mister, maybe that's enough for you," she said, reaching over to grab the tankard, but Ron clutched the half-empty mug closer to himself.
"No!"
Hermione pulled a Hope, that is to say, she rolled her eyes, at Ron's ridiculousness. "Really?"
"It's good!" Ron said defensively as a gust of cold air blew across Hope's face and she glanced towards the door.
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had entered the pub, closely followed by Hagrid and the chubby man she knew to be the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. It was strange enough to see their professors outside of the castle, but Hope couldn't help but wonder why they would be meeting with the minister.
Apparently, Hermione shared the same thought -a downside of being friends with Hope meant that there was a significant increase in one's curiosity-, as she had whipped out her wand and uttered a spell. "Mobiliarbus!"
Hope didn't recognize the spell, but she didn't have long to wait to find out what it did as the evergreen tree that had been propped and decorated for the holidays rose a few inches from the ground and drifted to the side slow enough that no one noticed that it was moving, so that they were hidden from the sight of the table, leaving them to peer through the branches and shamelessly eavesdrop.
At first, it seemed like nothing unusual, with the ordering of drinks, but it soon became obvious that it wasn't. There were the typical complaints about the dementors and Sirius Black, and then the minister said something that drew Hope's attention completely.
"All the same," Fudge was saying in reference to the dementors that patrolled the square and thus made for bad business, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black's capable of..." Hope couldn't help but wonder how they were supposed to protect them from something much worse if they kept getting sidetracked when she was around.
"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Madam Rosmerta, who was the woman who owned the Three Broomsticks, said. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead." Ron arched an eyebrow at Hope who frowned.
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge stiffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta asked, "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"
"I certainly do," said Fudge and Hermione was frowning now as well; what could possibly be worse than murdering innocent people?
"I can't believe that," Rosmerta disagreed. "What could possibly be worse?"
"You remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall said in a calm voice. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, a laugh echoed slightly from where they were sitting. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Hope's eyes widened and Hermione had to slap a hand to her mouth to stop her from making any noise that would tell their professors that they were listening in on a very private conversation. Hermione just knew they'd lose mountains of points and get detentions for the rest of their lives.
Sirius Black...now she remembered where she'd heard the name! Her father had mentioned him by name in the letter he had left her! She'd never thought much of it because Ragnok had said neither of her godparents were in any condition to care for her…
"Precisely," Professor McGonagall agreed, giving a miniscule nod of the head. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course -exceptionally bright, in fact- but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"
"I dunno." Hope could hear Hagrid chuckling. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money. Or even Hope on a good day."
"Really?" Madam Rosmerta asked in surprise, but then it seemed she had to remind herself of who they were speaking about. "Black and Potter hardly left each other's sides; I almost mistook them for brothers the first time I met them."
"It would be hard not to," said Fudge agreeably. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Hope. Hope has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment her." Hope's eyebrow twitched at how he automatically assumed how she would react, and well as shock that the wanted mass murderer was her godfather. Her actual godfather, the one her parents had chosen, not the one she'd picked.
"Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them," Fudge continued in a tragic voice. "Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
Hope wrenched Hermione's hand off her mouth with a glare before turning back towards the conversation with interest. She'd never heard of a Fidelius Charm before.
Luckily, neither did Madam Rosmerta.
"How does that work?"
"An immensely complex spell," Professor Flitwick cleared his throat thickly, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"
Sounded pretty foolproof, if you asked Hope.
"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" Madam Rosmerta asked with her voice barely above a whisper.
"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall, repeating Madam Rosmerta from earlier. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself...and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."
Hope frowned deeply.
"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta guessed.
"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall her voice turning much darker than Hope would have thought possible. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."
"But James Potter insisted on using Black?" Madam Rosmerta pressed.
"He did," said Fudge agreed in a weighted voice. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed—"
"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.
"He did indeed," Fudge said. "Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Hope Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"
"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, loud enough that a good number of eyes turned towards the group.
"Shh!" said Professor McGonagall barely above a hiss.
"I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me that went ter the Potter house. An' he was there! Had her cradled in his arms, the poor l'il thing, with a great slash across her forehead, an' her parents dead. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James' Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared loud enough that London probably heard him.
Hope kept her head down while they drank their drinks, only stiffening when she heard her name again.
"Minister, you don't really believe that Black sent Rookwood after Hope back in September, do you?"
"Minerva, I would think it was very likely," Fudge said sagely. "By all accounts she should've been on that train, if she hadn't gone to that muggle hospital, she certainly would've…very foolish of her to go running off on her own, but children these days, no idea of the dangers outside…"
Hope shared an annoyingly dubious look with Ron and Hermione.
"What was the name of that boy she was with?"
"Dean, Dean Thomas," Professor Flitwick squeaked, "now if there were ever a pair like James and Black, it would be those two…"
"I would've thought it would be Weasley or Granger," Professor McGonagall replied dryly. "Thicker than thieves, those three."
"Yes, but James once took a killing curse for Black without a thought, and Hope didn't even think to push them both out of the way, just him…and apparently his mother wants to adopt her."
There was a chuckle. "Well, she's got a family of her own, doesn't she? That's not always a compliment."
Hope rolled her eyes, miming choking.
"And you say James was impervious to the Killing Curse?" Fudge continued to muse. "Something he could've passed on to his daughter?"
"It wouldn't have surprised me. James was uncommonly brilliant about spell-creation. He was also testing out new spells and new potions. I believe when Lily was pregnant, he actually enchanted her body to make it so that spells ran off her like water," the pride was clear in Professor McGonagall's voice.
Hope froze, surprised as they drained their goblets and headed out. "It was my dad too," she said to her friends when their professors had gone. "It wasn't just me…I didn't realize he'd made spells."
"Isn't that what you're doing, too?" Ron pointed out, swallowing down more of his butterbeer. "All those scribblings in that little journal?"
She blinked.
"I might not understand Arithmancy, but I understand the shorthand," Ron rolled his eyes. It was pretty complex and they were the only three that used it.
"It's just scribblings, ideas, not actual spells," Hope muttered, pulling out a few coins to pay for their drinks, darkening her hair and sliding the green-lensed glasses Quinn had given her onto place on her nose so that when Madam Rosmerta approached for their money, she wouldn't know it had been Hope listening in.
"That's just because they're incomplete," Hermione waved off her lack of assurance. "You'll get there. You're top of the class in Arithmancy." She only sounded vaguely annoyed about it.
"Have to be top of something with Snape giving me zeros every week," Hope grumbled as they braved the cold air.
"Yeah, that's been pretty messed up," Ron agreed. "Why bother waiting until the end of term? Just tell McGonagall now."
"Then he'll be downright insufferable until the end of the year," Hope informed him sagely as they made their way into the castle, heading towards the Great Hall. "I'll tell her before end of term exa—"
"—that's funny, because the last time I checked this was a school, not a prison and you can't tell certain students to remain in the boundaries when you don't afford others the same treatment!" a furious voice was snapping and all three paused.
It was quite a scene and a lot of people were gaping, including Dean, who had apparently come forward to greet Quinn only to skid to a stop. Professor McGonagall was pink-cheeked and thin-lipped.
"This is highly irregular—"
"What's highly irregular is that my protégé calls me out of the blue to tell me that her headmaster is telling she's not allowed to leave the school for Christmas but apparently you didn't care about it last year when she was so depressed she didn't want to move!"
Hope scratched her cheek uncomfortably. "Uh, Quinn—"
"Apologies, babe," they said smoothly, "I'm trying to make a point."
Hope looked over to Dean, who shrugged helplessly.
"You can't speak for an orphan. You have no idea what's good for her," Quinn snapped. "But she's my protégé, so I'm the one that gets a say in where she gets her education and I'm starting to wonder if she should come back after the holiday!"
You could've dropped a pin and it would've made more noise.
"Hope, Dean, are you all packed?"
They both nodded quickly.
"Good." They brought their fingers together, twisting elaborately and everyone jumped when two trunks dropped loudly beside them. "Let's go." They ignored how Dean was gaping at them.
"I'll call later," Hope promised to Hermione and Ron. "Tell George—" But then Quinn had taken her hand and she was standing in the Thomas' sitting room and Dean was lurching for a bin, vomiting loudly into it.
"Kids are back, Di!" Quinn shouted and Hope blinked again and the trunks were gone. "C'mon, babes, time for a talk."
"You mean about you having magic and not telling us?" Dean asked archly. "Is that why you wanted to beat them up?" He turned towards Hope.
Quinn snorted. "Like you'd last a second against me."
Hope's expression soured. "I've got a bunch of knives on me right now."
Quinn had to concede to that, even if they had a good two decades on Hope, because the kid could certainly be wily when she wanted to be. "All right, kids, into the dining room. Explanations abound."
Dean gave Hope a look, but she merely shrugged, following Quinn before briefly being embraced by Diane who then moved on to Dean before ushering them into seats and sliding tea in front of them.
"All right, you might've figured out that Quinn can use magic," Diane explained with a heavy sigh. "Well…the truth is, we both can."
"What?" Dean was gaping at his mother. "But you acted so surprised when Professor McGonagall came! And I've never seen you use magic before!"
"Because I don't use it if I can help it," Diane grimaced. "I had to make a deal to get my magic, but I wasn't too surprised when I found out you could do it naturally…Quinn and I went to a school in Greece, Brakebills University of Magical Pedagogy, it was incredibly selective. Down there, there aren't witches and wizards and whatever shit they've got here. There are just magicians, of course, there were different ways students could get their magic. Some were like me, warlocks, gaining magic through dealing with a deity, or sorcerers inheriting magic from other family members, but we've always preferred 'magician', it's a bit more all-inclusive."
Hope sipped her tea quietly, listening intently.
"We're telling you this now because someone has been accidentally astral-projecting in their sleep," Quinn said dryly and Hope sunk a little further into her chair. "Which isn't your fault, but you need training and there was no way that Dean wasn't going to find out about—"
Dean stood furiously, storming up the stairs without a glance back. Diane sighed heavily. "You know sometimes he reminds me so much of…well, I'll go talk to him." She stood slower than her son and Quinn caught her hand briefly to kiss the back of it before releasing her to head up the stairs.
"Now, you, you're the problem child," Quinn told Hope a bit directly and Hope scowled. "Do you know what Traveling is?"
"I'm guessing it's not actual traveling?" Hope guessed.
Quinn's mouth twisted faintly. "No. Traveling with a capital T. It's basically teleportation a bit like your Flashing, the only difference is I can move between worlds if I must…we're not entirely human, but we've been around so long that no one's exactly sure what the not-human bit is." Quinn shrugged. "Honestly, it's not too important. I started Traveling when I was very young, but when I got to Brakebills, my teachers were worried I might accidentally dream about a volcano and end up inside one."
"Oh," Hope stared. "I did something like that once. I woke up in the Forbidden Forest even though I went to sleep in my bed."
"Hm." Quinn was unimpressed. "Astralling is the first step to mastering Traveling. You might not be a Traveler, but there are still places and people in this world that are dangerous, especially for you. And you've got a lot of untapped psychic energy."
"Huh?"
"Probably from being a child of abuse and having to swallow your tongue a lot," Quinn continued like they hadn't heard her. "So come with me, you're gonna learn something decent like meditating and guarding your mind, you know something you'll actually use, unlike what you're taught at that school of yours."
Their teeth bared. "You're gonna wish you're dead when I'm done with you."
Hope swallowed thickly.
"So, you are coming back, right?" Hermione pressed.
The mirror had been expanded like it had been over the summer and she and Ron were holding it between them, to see a tired Hope propped up on some pillows, looking exhausted but pleased.
"Oh, yeah, that was a total bluff," Hope assured them, "The only thing Quinn hates more than wand-users is half-trained wand-users."
There was a breath of relief.
"What're they even having you do?" Ron asked befuddled, "what're they mentoring you in?"
"Psychic magic, mostly," Hope admitted, "right now we're working on Astral Projection, which is way easier to learn than half the practical magic we've been learning in class, honestly. Quinn's more worried about me flashing myself into a volcano in my sleep."
"Yikes," they all said as one.
"So, I've got a tattooed sigil on my arm to ground me to the physical realm," Hope huffed. "No more flashing, also not as fun as you would think—"
"You're thirteen!" Hermione said aghast, looking at the anchor sigil tattooed onto her arm, still red and inflamed from the needle.
"But they want me to eat up my 'etheric energy' because apparently that's my biggest problem." Hope rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should just try to astral to the Blood—"
There was an emphatic "No," beside her and Hope shifted the mirror so they could see the Dean laying on his bed, pencil etching over his page. "That's why Quinn's teaching you in the first place, so you don't end up somewhere you shouldn't be."
Hope came back into view. "Dean's been salty since finding out his mum can do magic."
Dean's glower was visible beyond her head. "Am not."
"Whatcha working on?"
"Crookshanks."
Hope arched an eyebrow as he showed a realistic sketch of the cat in question, making Ron scowl and Hermione clap her hands delightedly. "Why?"
"Because he's my idol, obviously."
"You can't hate her forever."
"Yes, I can, she's my mother," Dean snapped and they winced at the flash of hurt across Hope's face. "No, wait, I'm sorry—"
"I'll talk to you guys later," Hope said suddenly, shutting the mirror swiftly.
"You should be in bed."
Hope looked up from one of the heavy tomes that Quinn had given her, in covered practically everything psychic from astral projection to premonition to divination. Hope had thought it was a soft subject at first, but that was because of whatever Trelawney considered Divination was complete crap and Hope was pulling out of that class as soon as she went back to school because it was a complete waste of time.
"Can't sleep," she said as Diane settled onto the couch beside her. "Figured I'd do some more reading."
Diane rubbed at the back of her head. "You can tell Quinn if it's too much, you know, you're only thirteen learning what they learned at twenty-three."
"No, I can take it," Hope insisted. "This stuff is way more interesting than what I do at school, less complicated too…I just don't get why."
"Why?" Diane asked with a furrowed brow.
"I mean, the first time I actually flashed in my sleep was in first year…I haven't really done anything like that in a while…" Hope frowned a little. "There's got to be more to it than that, right?"
Diane's mouth thinned. "You know Quinn's a professor, right?" Hope bobbed her head. "They cover several fields of study. Their classes are very advanced, very selective, but they don't take on students as protégés, no exceptions…not anymore. They only ever had one, barely after graduating, a traveler, rare and skilled beyond compare. Her name was Victoria...I don't know really what happened, but she was helping in the war effort, the one that killed your parents." Hope looked away quickly. "She was more of a researcher than a fighter, but she must've found something, something important, because when Quinn found her, she'd been torn apart, and Quinn knew it was going to happen, but they thought it was just a nightmare. Victoria was in a war, of course Quinn would worry… so they didn't say anything."
"Oh," Hope said quietly.
"They haven't had a student since then, much less one that wasn't a traveler. For whatever reason, they think you need to learn psychic magic, so I would take the time to listen very well to whatever they have to say."
"But why psychic magic?" Hope asked. "I mean, I understand it and all…but I hate Divination."
Diane smirked. "Whatever you're learning in school isn't much in psychic magic, but it's different at Brakebills. See, you get split up into magical disciplines based on your innate talents, and psychic is one of the larger ones, relating to, affecting, and being influenced by the mind. Magicians like Quinn can have extrasensory perception and telepathy, which they say can be a curse." She huffed in amusement before growing serious. "But given your magical potential, I think they're more concerned what other psychic magic could affect you…mind control, for one, also dream manipulation, you've already experienced that, as well as memory magic."
"My memory? Someone's messed with it?" Hope couldn't help but be startled.
"Not recently," Diane conceded, "there's a patch on your memory that's years old, but it being placed opened your mind to being sensitive to mental incursion. It's like…think of an old wall that's been chipped away so that there are holes that others can squeeze through. That's what your mental protection is right now. Quinn's teachings can help you patch those holes or build an entirely formidable defense in case anyone tries to capitalize on how vulnerable your mind is."
Hope thought of the visceral nightmares that had plagued her for years, the Blood-Soaked Tree. "Could that be why my nightmares are so bad?"
"Not entirely," Diane had to admit. "Some fears are ingrained, they're difficult to get rid of without destroying the root of it…Quinn's always liked you but you're also a…how should I say it? An unstable force they've never seen before."
"Unstable?" Hope hated that word.
Diane grasped her hand. "I don't mean mentally unstable, Hope, I mean magically unstable…magic tends to explode out of you and that's not normal. Quinn doesn't believe in fixing people; they believe in giving people the tools they need to function. You're not broken."
"Just damaged," Hope muttered, rubbing at the back of her head.
Diane sighed heavily. "We're all damaged, darling. Turn your scars into armor."
Hope blinked. She'd never thought about it like that. Her mirror heated up suddenly and she was appropriately distracted, opening it immediately, delighted when she saw the face on the opposite side. "George! It's like…two in the morning! Go to sleep!"
Diane spared her a wink, heading back upstairs in time to hear "Pot, kettle, Potter," and "You are lucky you're so cute."
It was better that she hadn't told Hope the whole story, right? About how Quinn had lurched awake in the night, skin ashen and covered in a sheen of sweat, clutching at their eyeless socket as though it was burning them from the inside out. They'd turned to Diane with utter surety and said "That kid is going to end up dead if we do nothing."
Diane had nightmares about that.
"I'll go to sleep when you go to sleep."
"Ugh," Hope complained, "you're the worst! You're half-asleep already, Georgie."
"Am not." George scrubbed at his eyes stubbornly. "You wanna talk about what's really bothering you? The thing that Hermione and Ron don't want to talk to anyone about?"
Hope huffed, running a hand through her hair. "It's nothing, its—" He gave her a very direct look that he didn't pull off very well, given how sleepy he was, which was, frankly, adorable. "We just overheard some professors and the minister talking in the Three Broomsticks."
"About what?" George asked, waking up a bit more.
"You know my godfather?"
"Nath?" She talked about him from time to time, and sometimes he'd hear her talking to him on that muggle device she called a mobile. "What about him?"
"Well, I call him my godfather, but he's not really." Hope sighed. "The godfather my parents named was Sirius Black."
George paused. "Oh," he said. "Shit."
"Yeah, that about sums it up." Hope sighed. "I don't know…everyone says Black's the bad guy, he killed all these people, he betrayed my parents…but they just threw him into jail without a trial? Isn't that a bit weird?"
"I mean, yeah, but it was during the War, they probably did that with suspected Death Eaters," George offered reasonably.
"Yeah, but Ron says that Death Eaters have this mark—"
"The Dark Mark, yeah," George grimaced, "Mum and Dad talked about it before. People were scared to death of it."
Hope sighed. "I'm just used to being the one people blame without reason, I don't know, maybe it's just me…projecting -a lot of that going around- but everyone's expecting me to be angry and want to go after this guy, but it's not like it's Voldemort, I know he's responsible, but—" She twisted her hair around her finger. "I've got other things to worry about than a 'maybe-betrayer' of my parents. I've got school, I've got this stuff Quinn's having me on—"
"Then don't worry about," George advised before giving her a smile. "I miss you."
"Miss you too," Hope said, cheeks pink. "But I'll be back in January, promise, Quinn just likes throwing their weight around…and that map is brilliant, but I think it's missing one room." Her eyes glittered. "You should go to the fourth floor. There's this empty patch of wall and all you have to say is 'Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth'."
George gaped. "Wait—"
"Bye," Hope said cheerily, blowing him a kiss and shutting the mirror, her smile falling as she slid out the piece torn out of the paper. It was an obituary.
Marjorie Eileen Dursley, age 47, of Sussex, died October 22 of an unexpected heart attack. Marjorie was born in Leeds on April 20, 1947 to Abraham and Heather Dursley. She is survived by brother Vernon (and Petunia) Dursley of Surrey, and nephew Dudley Dursley of Surrey…
Hope couldn't really be sorry; the woman had always treated her like an animal. And Hope had never been wrong about a death.
Was that another spell of her father's that he'd placed on her? Because if it was, it was more of a terrible life-destroying burden than an amazing gift.
She crumpled it up and tossed the paper into the fireplace before heading back upstairs to try to sleep again.
It took days for Hope to get a handle on what Quinn called a 'mind labyrinth'. There were ways to shield the mind, to create a barrier between your mind and outside influences, but, per Quinn: "That's the laziest fucking way to guard your mind, let me show you how to turn your mind into a trap and weapon."
And Hope, who had cut her fingers on knives when learning to twirl and twist them in the air and catch them again, who had stuck a sword through a basilisk and another through a man trying to kill her, could only bare her teeth in a wide grin.
But creating a labyrinth in your mind was difficult work and Dean had a new appreciation for it after watching Hope sit with Quinn for hours upon hours without barely moving, sitting atop circular sigils written in chalk that it had taken Hope two days to get used to because sitting still and focusing her mind inward had never been her strongest suit. But she worked hard at it. He'd never seen her work so hard at magic before, even with the spells she found difficult.
The first step was the labyrinth, made up of so many doors and stairs that led to nothing, leading up and down until where you started was above you as you walked on the ceiling with ease. The next step was tricking it to hell and back.
One door opened into a bottomless pool of water, one had an explosion waiting for someone to open the door, another had crossbow bolts ready to strike, another had—
It was vaguely concerning how many ways to painfully kill invaders Hope had, which Dean told her quite incredulously after he'd finally come around to his mother and to Quinn, but Hope had spent years swallowing her tongue and biting her lip until she couldn't anymore; if Hope's mind was to be a trap, might as well be the best.
It took a week after Hope managed to actually build the labyrinth, step by step, a week of Quinn poking and prodding and finding holes for Hope to patch, before Quinn approved it. It wasn't the kind of learning that Hope was used to, but it did the trick.
Quinn nodded approvingly. "You'll need to reinforce it, of course, and nightmares will filter through, but, at the very least, you're protected from a majority of mental incursions and anyone that tries to access your mind will end up in a world of hurt."
Hope pumped a fist, feeling uncommonly tired, but Quinn had assured her that using up all that etheric energy in a short period of time could be very draining.
"At least you're not dripping in it like your friend," Quinn had said dryly, never clarifying when Hope cast a confused look their way. "I know it's after Christmas, but, as a gift, I'll take you anywhere you want in the world."
Diane had already gotten her clothes that actually fit her and Dean had given her a new journal to write in once hers was completely filled.
"Anywhere?" Hope's eyes gleamed, sitting in that room that had once been Quinn's at their university, an untouched safe space in their mind. And then she thought inexplicably of her parents. "I want to go to where my parents died."
Hope didn't really know where it was, but that didn't matter; Quinn did. They didn't ask questions, just told her to dress for the cold and offered her a hand when she was ready. Hope took it easily, breathing out sharply in the chill.
There were homely cottages on each side of them, a pub at the far end streaming out light and laughter and carols. The snow was falling thickly around them.
"This is Godric's Hollow," Quinn told her quietly, voice echoing eerily. "A lot of…your folk have lived here." Hope guessed they meant the wizarding community, not to be confused with magicians.
"But where—?"
"Turn around, Hope," Quinn said gently and Hope froze before turning slowly around and staring with wide eyes.
The cottage that her parents had hid in with her was ruined by age, spell-damage and fire. It was small and modest, what was left it, at least, but there had only been three of them living there at the time; James might've been used to extravagance, but she imagined Lily was a love of modesty. The shrubs and flowers that were encrusted with frost were flowing over the gate, left unattended for over twelve years. The most ruin was evident by the gaping hole at where Hope's room must have been, looking rather like it had been blown apart by a spell or something else entirely, Hope remained unsure.
It was strange to be so close to the place where it all had started, where her parents had been killed, where she'd gotten her scar, and where she'd been orphaned in a single moment.
She lifted her hands to the gate, the snow like ice against her hands and then she recoiled suddenly as a wooden sign rose out of the snow bearing the legend in golden letters:
On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Hope, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.
Hope let out a helpless little sob, reading the added words to the sign:
Good luck, Hope, wherever you are.
If you read this, Hope, we're all behind you!
Long live Hope Potter.
Stay safe and stay strong.
The tears traced down her cheeks and Hope scrubbed viciously at them until her skin was raw.
"You don't have to go inside," Quinn promised, "if it's too much, we can stand right here." Hope leaned into their side and Quinn dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Quinn was so rough around the edges and that was what Hope liked the most about them…she wondered how her parents would've felt about Quinn and Diane, doing their best to help her in a terrible situation that was Hope's home life.
She liked to think that they would've liked them, but she would never be completely sure.
"No," Hope said quickly. She'd come too far to leave now. "I want to go in."
"Okay," Quinn said simply, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the snap of their fingers. "Just let me know when you're ready to leave, yeah?"
Hope's hand shook slightly as she undid the latch, pushing the gate open, steeling her nerves as she approached the door that was creaking as it was blown back and forth against the doorframe, which only added to the eerie atmosphere.
And then she set foot in the wreckage of the house that she had been carried out of at fifteen months of age.
It was dead and cold, and Hope wasn't sure what she should have expected, as the Fidelius had broken a very long time ago, but it seemed remarkably untouched, even ruined as it was.
Pictures in frames lined the wall, some of her father with his friends and her mother with hers and a few of little Hope giggling in her frame with her parents. Clearly happier times than what Hope remembered of that age, and she would have given anything to remember anything about them, but all she could remember was her mother's voice terrified, surely right before her death.
Hope swallowed thickly, raising a hand to the picture of her parents' wedding day with their beaming smiles and the two figures beside them must've been Sirius Black and Alice Longbottom…Neville had inherited a lot from his mother, but Sirius…he looked nothing like the deranged man she'd seen in the papers. Sirius Black was young and handsome and so happy.
She sighed heavily, moving past the thick splotch of what could've only been dried blood at the foot of the stairs. That must've been where her father had fallen, trying to keep Voldemort from making it up to her mother, to her.
Stepping lightly over the blood, Hope continued up the creaking stairs, pausing on the landing to consider the options, but then she turned away from the demolished room, carefully sliding open the door to her parents' bedroom.
Hope didn't even know what she was looking for. Proof that her parents had lived, had actually lived, and had mattered to more people than the ones that told Hope that her parents had been heroes and what an honor it must've been to have such heroes as parents…but Hope had never wanted her parents to be heroes, she'd wanted them to be alive, she wanted to them to take her away from unending abuse.
But Hope rarely got what she wanted.
Sitting down on the bed released a cloud of dust and Hope couldn't help but sneeze, rubbing at her nose before noticing a small book on the bedside table, untouched for years.
Hope opened it and frowned, flipping carefully through the pages. It looked like her journal, the one where she'd started working on pieces of spells, nothing complete, nothing like this.
Whatever spells James or Lily had come up with -Hope was betting on James, though, from what the professors had said about him- they were complete…and written in a code that Hope didn't understand at all. She blew the dust off the book, tucking it into her pocket, before leaving. She looked over to where what had once been her room had been demolished and her mother murdered, but she couldn't bring herself to enter it.
Instead, she headed back down the stairs and out to Quinn, gripping their hand tight.
It was hours later when Dean was sleeping -twitching and tense- that Hope carved the sigil for 'ash' into the opposite wrist of 'heal' and even later that she completed her very first spell after countless unbalanced arithmetic, a spell with the destructive capability of leveling a three-story building that would earn the name 'Letum Ultima', the Last Death.
Diane had given her a thick folder and had told her very seriously "Only open this when you're good and ready. Trust me, you'll know when that is," and Hope had just frowned at her in confusion, but she'd still placed it in her trunk.
"Are you gonna run off to Wales again this summer?" Dean asked, while she rifled through a bunch of papers that Ragnok had given her when she reentered the magical world and never really felt inclined to look through. It was mostly about her family's vaults and stocks and estates, nothing Hope really cared too much about.
(Evidently Mr. Elton had made some very lucrative decisions in selling off the pieces of basilisk, even with the generous cut he'd earned, though Hope was determined not to touch that vault until she was legal, as surprised as she was about the amount she'd earned)
But she'd gone back to look at the estates and where they were located since finding Potter Manor and Pithos.
"I'm thinking…Crete," Hope hummed. "The Marinos family have an estate there."
"Huh?" Dean looked up from his drawing to furrow his brow at her. "The who?"
"You wouldn't believe how many families I'm related to," Hope retorted dryly. "But the Marinos' died out a way long time ago. Morea Marinos married Salazar Slytherin and I think she was the last one…which explained why she didn't want to settle down for the longest time…"
Dean shook that off. "So, you're not going back to Wales to that amazing pirate ship?"
Hope laughed. "I'm not gonna be in Crete the whole time! I'll have to come back eventually, but I want to be somewhere with a lot of sunlight and warmth…and really good food."
Dean snorted. "You'll need a passport, an actual one, since you can't go blipping around anymore."
She couldn't help but pout. That was the downside to Quinn's 'grounding' sigil on her arm. "Don't worry, Quinn said they'd help me with that, apparently they're enjoying how rebellious I am."
He snorted again.
"So?" Hope probed. "What do you think about them dating? Quinn and your mum?"
Dean shrugged carelessly. He'd drawn the still-tender sigil on her upper arm with careful precision on the page and had moved onto the transfigured burn in the shape of a blue iris on her shoulder blade. It was a very accurate rendition, Hope thought. "It's weird, Mum dating…but Quinn's gotta be better than her ex, I guess."
"Your other mum?"
Dean huffed in annoyance. "If you can even call her that. She told Mum she loves me and misses me, but if she really cared she'd be here." Dean didn't even have any memories of his mother's ex, that was all she was to him.
Hope figured it was probably better not to get into that disagreement, she stood to stuff the papers back into her trunk, pausing when she saw something that wasn't there before.
She pulled the stiff paper out. "Dear heart," she read out in a murmur.
"Hm? You say something?" Dean asked absently.
"No, just talking to myself," Hope said quickly, eyes still on the elegant script, flipping it over.
Knives suit you better, but should you need the sword, a flick of the wrist will do.
Hope arched an eyebrow looking down at the gift in question. It was a belt with a holster for a knife at the back. Hope grasped the hilt and pulled it free, smiling at the black blade. It still was shaped like a raven, wings patterned against the hilt. The black blade made into a black knife.
She smiled.
George had been dozing off. He knew that Hope was coming back later, but it honestly slipped his mind. He didn't even hear the trapdoor open, but he definitely felt the couch divot as someone sat beside him, fingers carding through his hair.
He melted into her touch. "Mm, that's nice."
"You tired, Georgie?" she hummed. "You look cute."
George didn't even open his eyes, enjoying her fingers in his hair too much. "Please. I'm downright adorable."
She laughed, the rough one he was still getting used to. "Whatever you say, baby."
George pouted, knowing he couldn't hide how his cheeks flushed at the pet name. "Not gonna give me a kiss?"
"How much you want it?"
He cracked his eyes open to see her devilish smirk and darkly glittering eyes as he gaped at her, reaching up to tangle a hand in her thick locks. "Why you conniving little—!" She laughed again as he pulled her down and into a kiss, swallowing her laughter.
She allowed him to pull her down, her lips curving even in the kiss before she parted from him. "Want a cuddle buddy?"
George closed his eyes, tugging at her insistently until— "Merlin, you're cold!"
Hope laughed again, settling her back to his chest. "Have you and Fred been busy?" she asked as he nuzzled into her neck, pulling her tighter against him, making her words slightly breathless and her cheeks pink.
"Mm," George hummed in agreement, leaning back to press a kiss to the back of her head, "something like that."
She smiled slightly. "Causing trouble?" she mused.
"You know me so well."
"Or you're just that predictable," Hope said with a smirk, tilting her head back slightly to smirk up at him.
"I like you knowing me better," George said, kissing her cheek lightly, "it sounds better."
Hope gave a light laugh at that comment. "Right, sure. Whatever makes you happy, Georgie."
She linked her fingers with his free hand, delighting in his warmth. "Have you done much studying for your exams?" she asked.
He snorted. "Psh, you know me, Hope, why would I study?"
"I thought that your OWLs are considered towards whatever career you want to go into?" Hope said with curiosity despite her amusement. "What was it that you wanted to do?"
George contemplated an answer to that. Both he and Fred knew what they wanted to do, and it wasn't a career path that his mother would approve of, that much he knew. He still wasn't sure how his father would react, but he didn't think that he would condemn their dreams like their mother would.
Hope poked him hard in the stomach with her elbow.
"Ow!" he complained, exaggerating his pain and making Hope roll her eyes at the same time.
"Don't be such a baby!" she said with a grin. "So? What is it? What does George Weasley want to be?"
"Well…Fred and I were thinking of running our own joke shop," he admitted, hoping it didn't seem as foolish as it sounded.
"Really?" Hope said in surprise, before grinning widely, "Well, you two would be good at it, I suppose. It is your vocation after all."
George wanted to kiss her for saying that; he wasn't sure why he restrained himself from doing so. It was times like these that he couldn't help but gaze fondly at Hope and remember just how much she appreciated his pranking streak, being one with a rebellious streak herself.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Hope's breathing had evened out as she fell asleep beside him.
"I can't believe she took it!" Ron bemoaned later that day as the three of them sat before the raging fire with a thick blanket spread over the three of their laps. Hope and Hermione –predictably– had books flung open on their laps, but Ron, having just finished the last of his homework for the holidays -just in time for class tomorrow-, was trying to recover the full use of his hand once more.
Over the holiday, Hope had been sent a Firebolt to replace the Nimbus 2000 she'd lost during her last quidditch match. There had been no card and Hope hadn't had the chance to fly it when she was with Quinn and it had slipped her mind until she'd come back to school.
Professor McGonagall had been apprehensive, probably because of Quinn threatening to pull Hope out of school, an empty threat, Hope had known, but Professor McGonagall hadn't. She'd accepted Hope wanting to withdraw from Divination without contest (she'd always clearly despised the subject), but when she'd found out about the broom, she'd put her foot down.
"But Sirius Black might have sent it," Hermione added, "imagine if he cursed it!"
"But I flew around on it for about fifteen minutes," Hope pointed out. She'd just come in from the cold, hair windswept and grin wide while Professor McGonagall looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Maybe it had a time delay," she said reasonably, making her two friends stare at her. "What?"
"You can do that?" they both asked with varying degrees of skepticism.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "When are you two going to learn that a lot of things are possible with magic?"
"Hey!"
"Oi!"
"We should do something," Hope decided after a long moment after spending an abnormal amount of time staring at the ceiling.
"We could—" Ron started to say.
"No," Hermione said quickly and sternly, shooting down his theorizing of a wizard's chess match, "you always win those." No one dared to utter the words "Sore loser," because they doubted she would react well to the words, no matter how true they were.
"What about—"
"But we're too lazy to move," Hope said, shooting down her suggestion that they go outside, "besides, it's practically a blizzard out there."
Hope turned her head towards the window and Hermione and Ron followed suit, staring at the snow white flurries that swirled so tightly together that Hope swore they looked like a miniature tornado.
"I picked up a few books on dueling and defensive and offensive magic before term started," she said abruptly, having completely forgotten about the books in question until that moment.
Hermione brightened a bit; that topic sounded potentially interesting.
Ron grinned slightly; now dueling was something that had always interested him!
So they waited for Hope to pull herself up and into a standing position and stagger in a drunken manner towards the stairs that led up to the girl's dormitory, and after waiting a few seconds, she reappeared once more with two books tucked under her arm as she plopped down between them once more, flipping one book open. Hermione and Ron leaned forward to peer at its contents.
"These look really advanced though," Ron said as he took the book from her and began sifting through it, "is there anything mild that we could learn as third years?"
Hermione snatched it out of his hands. "Let me have a look, hang on."
Hope and Ron shared a look, resisting the urge to laugh at how forward their friend had become in reference to learning new things.
"The Stunning Spell doesn't look too difficult," she admitted finally, "it's only a fourth-year spell."
"Stunning?" Hope asked with a frown. "Does it work like Petrificus Totalus?"
"Sort of," Hermione said, looking intently over the section, "only it knocks you out instead. You kind of go limp."
"Sounds like fun."
Hope and Hermione stared at Ron. "What? Was I not supposed to sound so enthusiastic?"
Hermione burst into giggles and Hope cracked a smile.
"I guess we have a volunteer, Hermione," Hope said, the smile transforming into a smirk.
"It seems we do, Hope," Hermione agreed, crossing her arms as the pair stared intently at Ron who cottoned on rather quickly.
"Oh, no!" he said quickly, rolling away from them, "bad idea!"
"What's the incantation for that Stunning Spell?" Hope asked Hermione with a grin that was just a tad feral.
"Hm," Hermione hummed, scanning the page for the incantation in question as Ron feverishly searched for the exit. "It says here its Stupefy…and the counter curse is Rennervate, but it also says to not use it on humans until you have a firm grasp of the spell-work."
Hope cast a smirk Ron's way. "I guess you get to stay conscious this time, Weasley."
Ron exhaled in relief, muttering something distasteful under his breath that had Hermione glowering darkly and Hope laughing loudly.
With the term starting up again, Remus had to face James' all-together quite unnerving daughter, which was never what he thought would be a way he described Hope Potter. He'd heard that she'd somehow ended up with a mentor of some sort who had threatened to keep Hope out of school…though Remus was sure there was some kind of legal precedent that said only at fifteen years old at least could a witch or wizard be taken out of school.
Hope, for what it was worth, seemed unperturbed by the murmurings of other students about the apparent scene her mentor had caused.
"Now, ordinarily a better way to do it would be to practice the spell against something that's like a dementor, but you aren't scared enough of them for a boggart to turn into them," he explained and Hope huffed.
"I dunno, they can probably give the Tree a run for its money," Hope grumbled, "if I don't have a knife."
Remus still had a lot of questions about that, about how a tree could scare someone who had been attacked several times and was now more heavily scarred because of those attacks. Still, it wasn't the best time to ask.
"So, the spell I'm going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, well beyond OWL level, it's called the Patronus Charm and its incantation is 'Expecto Patronum'—"
"Okay, but you'll have to explain the theory behind it." Hope wrinkled her nose, swinging her legs from where she was perched on one the desks. "I have a hard time with spells if I don't know how they work—"
"James was the same way," Remus smiled faintly and she startled a little. "He had to remind people to go slower and explain everything fully, don't worry."
Her mouth twitched into a faint smile.
"So, it works by conjuring up a Patronus which is a kind of guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it."
"What's it look like?" Hope asked curiously. "Like an actual shield?"
"More like an animal guard," Remus admitted, "one that is unique to the caster…some say it's a reflection of the caster's soul. But the Patronus Charm will only work if you are concentrating on a single happy memory."
Hope pursed her lips, thinking hard. She could've used Hermione or Ron or even Dean or George…Diane or Quinn too…but when she reached for her mobile, there was only one person she thought of. She closed her eyes, remembering Nath's smile when she'd awoken in the hospital, terrified and alone.
"It's all right," Nath had said, a hand running through her hair. "You're all right. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you."
"Expecto Patronum," she murmured and Remus' eyebrows rose at the silvery mist that began to escape from the tip of her wand.
"Don't worry," she said later, "If this spell doesn't work out, I can always throw away the wand and just stab it in the face." She pulled a knife out of nowhere and Remus couldn't help but laugh.
Professor Lupin was certainly right about it being fairly advanced, though, and by February, Hope was beginning to grow disheartened.
"Don't worry so much," Professor Lupin admonished, "your defense is getting stronger. It might still be made of mist, but its most distinct than it's been. You're making progress, you just have to stick with it."
"I have complete faith in you," Professor Lupin added with utter assurance with Hope remained despondent, that Hope's lips couldn't help but twitch slightly into a smile.
"What exactly does a Patronus do, if you ever manage to completely form one?" she asked.
"A true Patronus typically charges the Dementors and forces them away," he said, "and even if your Patronus is not fully formed, it can still protect you well enough. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."
"But you said it's harder if there are a lot of them," Hope reminded him.
"Yes, but you will also be having professors attending your games that know the spell," Professor Lupin said.
"You said that the shape is unique to the one who produces them, right?" Hope said, canting her head to the side as he handed her a bottle of butterbeer for which she grinned and thanked him, opening it from where she sat cross-legged on a desk.
"That's right."
"What does yours look like?"
"A wolf."
Hope looked up from her drink in surprise. "You don't like it?"
Professor Lupin shifted uncomfortably. He had always hated that his Patronus had been a wolf and had purposefully made it so that his Patronus was non-corporeal when he was in the presence of others in an effort to hide his condition from them. James and Sirius had always thought he was being stupid, but they could never convince him to form his true Patronus when surrounded by people who didn't know that he was a werewolf.
"Well," she continued, noticing how he didn't want to talk about it, "I think having a wolf Patronus would be cool; wolves are awesome."
Professor Lupin spared her a miniscule smile.
"What were Mum and Dad's Patronuses?" she continued on.
"Their Patronuses were what we call complementary," he explained, eager to move away from his Patronus, "meaning that they were a male and female form of the same animal. James' was a stag, and Lily's was a doe."
"Really?" Hope said in surprise. "Does that happen a lot?"
"Only in a few rare cases," Professor Lupin said, "such as soul mates."
She smiled a bit brightly at that.
"What's under a Dementor's hood?" she asked, hardly drinking her butterbeer as she had far too many questions that needed to be answered. Their lessons had turned from purely academical to slightly academical with a side of small talk, but at least Hope wasn't doing her hardest to avoid him anymore, which was a relief.
At the question, Professor Lupin paused in drinking to frown in a pensive manner. "Hmmm... well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."
Hope's eyes turned apprehensive at that. "What is it? Why is it so bad?"
"It's called the Dementor's Kiss," said Professor Lupin, his lips twisting into a grimace. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and -and suck out their soul."
Hope gagged at that, grateful that she hadn't been drinking any of her butterbeer, or it would have possibly ended up all over her professor, and she might never be able to live that down.
"What?" she said, her mind completely boggled. "Do they kill—?"
"Oh no," Professor Lupin said quickly, "it's much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no...anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever...lost." He gave a deep sigh, drinking a little more, before adding: "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."
Hope was staring at him with a frown he couldn't quite place. "I've read about Azkaban," she said, "George told me about it, too…isn't it a bit inhumane?"
"To some," Professor Lupin agreed heavily.
"Do you think Sirius Black deserves it?" she asked, still on the fence about if Sirius Black had really done what everyone said he had.
"You think he doesn't?" Professor Lupin arched an eyebrow.
"I think I'm used to people blaming me for things without evidence," Hope shrugged carefully. "But you're the one that knew him…do you think Sirius Black is as bad as they say?"
"I thought I knew him," he said after a very long silence, "but I should have known better with the family background that he had, I suppose."
"What do you mean?" Hope asked with curiosity.
"Sirius Black came from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Professor Lupin explained, "they were rather vocal about their pro-Dark leanings. The whole family had been in Slytherin, up until him. He was a shame to his parents, being in Gryffindor."
"Did Sirius Black ever share his family's stance on Dark Magic?" she asked instead. She felt more confused than anything concerning the man.
"He was very anti-Dark," Professor Lupin admitted, "he had to be to be friends with James. James hated the Dark Arts." He glanced at her. "Don't you?"
She ignored the question, her skin tingling over the runes carved into her wrists. They weren't Dark Magic, but they still weren't looked on favorably. Hope jumped off the desk, stumbling slightly as her shoes made contact with the floor and she stretched and yawned. "Well, I'd better get going, I've still got to finish an Ancient Runes translation."
"Best of luck," Professor Lupin said with a smile.
"See you at the match," she added, "hopefully I'll have my broom back by then…"
"As a teacher I shouldn't really be taking sides, but, to Gryffindor," Professor Lupin said with a wink, and Hope laughed as she spared him a wave before disappearing out of the room without a look back.
They were a bunch of idiots, that much Hope was sure as she scowled at them with her arms crossed and leaning against the shut door…and they were still going at it…great…
She had never seen Ron or Hermione quite so angry as they were now in the three years that she had known them. Their faces were each a bright red and their eyes flashed as they yelled at the other. Hope had stopped understanding a word that they were saying, it was all too much blurred together for her to even begin to comprehend.
The whole night had started to go downhill the moment that Ron, Ron who had always been a bit of a peacemaker, stormed down from his dorm screaming at Hermione that Scabbers had gone and that there was blood and ginger cat hairs on the sheets. And Hope had taken that time when the whole common room had been staring at Ron to forcibly drag the pair to a secluded location, giving orders to the first suit of armour she saw with the Slytherin crest to block the door.
"YOU SAID THAT CAT WAS GOING TO STAY IN YOUR DORMITORY!" Ron roared.
"OH, LIKE SCABBERS DOESN'T LEAVE YOUR DORMITORY!" Hermione raged back. "YOU HYPOCRITE!"
Hope thought they were both being foolish. Ron was overreacting, but Hermione should have kept tighter control of her pet. The problem was, Hermione didn't see it that way, she only saw it as her cat being the victim which was neither here nor there.
Ron's lips twisted upwards into a sneer that he could have easily copied from Snape on a good day, and then he twisted on his heel, stalking towards where Hope stood. She arched an eyebrow.
"Are you going to let us out?" he snapped. "Or am I stuck with her?" He jabbed a finger in Hermione's direction, though he missed the flash of hurt that spread across her face.
"No one's stopping you," Hope said, wrenching the door open and inviting them to walk through it, but they didn't, or perhaps it was better to say that they couldn't. Because framed in the doorway was a suit of armour holding a Slytherin shield and blocking the doorway.
"Hope," Ron said through gritted teeth, scowling fiercely at her, but her expression was unwavering and steadfast.
"He's not going to move unless I say so," Hope said, rolling her eyes at him. "And I don't think I want to right now, considering you and Hermione are trying to start World War III all by yourselves."
Both of them glared a bit at her for that.
"Have you heard the pair of you?" She asked in irritation. "I'm sure that the Londoners could hear you from here."
"Hope," Hermione warned. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Hope snapped this time. "I like you both, you're my best friends, but the pair of you need to get a grip!" Her voice had risen gradually as she had spoken.
Ron and Hermione leaned back suddenly at the sudden rage, but they couldn't respond properly to her.
"You know what?" Hope said finally. "I'm not going to say a single word to anyone until you two make up and admit you've both got pet problems." Peer pressure seemed like the best way to go, she knew that George in particular liked her witty remarks and he wouldn't take too kindly to her silence and she absolutely counted on him blaming his brother.
"What?!" Hermione said, a bit dumbstruck. "But you always talk! You always have something to say!"
"Not this time," Hope said, looping her newly released broom over her shoulders as she glared at the pair of them. "Work it out," she added firmly, "or get used to the silence."
Ron stared after her as she left, not quite sure how exactly he and Hermione were supposed to work it out, especially since it was all her cat's fault! Why couldn't Hope see that? Why couldn't she take sides for once, and how did she think being silent was going to help anything? What was that going to do?
And then it practically brained him across the face. Oh, George was going to kill him…was that what she was hoping for? Death by brother? Ron gulped audibly before following his friend's lead and exiting the room, steering around the suit of armor that was still standing guard of to the side in a silent vigil.
As soon as she was alone, Hermione wanted to burst into tears. She was tired and angry and afraid all at the same time. She ran a hand through her bushy curls and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to staunch the tears before they could fall, but they fell anyways. Her breath shook in time with her shoulders as she tried to control her emotions. Why couldn't Ron see that cats chased rats? Why couldn't he understand that what Crookshanks had was a natural response to his prey? Why couldn't he see how sorry she was?
But all Hermione could do was will the tears to stop and wish for Ron to forgive her soon.
So, the next day when she came down to breakfast the next morning, she was a bit unsurprised that Hope had followed through with her threat and was wearing something with words scrawled across it dangling from her neck. She couldn't read it from where she was, but she didn't have to.
"Sorry, my two best friends are being idiots so everyone is getting the silent treatment from me until they make up," George read aloud from what looked like something that used to be a book cover as Hermione walked past, studiously ignoring the blatant glare that Ron gave her as she passed, opting to sit on the far end of the table, as far away from him as possible. "Seriously?"
Hope jerked her head towards where Hermione was sitting, still being subjected to Ron's glare. Angelina and Alicia weren't too impressed with his attitude towards the bookish third year, especially if it was over pets, though they supposed they couldn't fault him for thinking that Crookshanks killed Scabbers. Privately, everyone thought that Crookshanks had killed Scabbers, but none of them were willing to admit it out loud (House of the Brave? That was likely).
"Get your butt over there and apologize to her," George said.
"No!" Ron said affronted. "I haven't done anything wrong! It's her cat!"
"You do know that all cats chase rats, don't you?" Fred asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Ron gave him a venomous glare at that comment, but Hope wrote down onto the paper inside of a journal that she had been apparently carrying around for that purpose, holding up the words "I agree with Fred," shortly followed by "You're being an idiot, and so is she."
Ron's cheeks reddened. "Then why aren't you over there complaining to her?"
Hope shrugged. "You're more reasonable. Hermione's very difficult to reason with." No doubt something she had picked up from Hope.
Then she held up the words "You're breaking her heart. Hermione doesn't deserve that." And then he felt a bit ashamed.
"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred added, guessing that now would be a good time to get in the last word. "And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly -one swallow- he probably didn't feel a thing."
"Fred!" said Ginny said aghast, gaping at her older brother and slapping him on the arm to which he theatrically winced. "You can't tell him that! That's so mean!"
"I'm telling the truth!" Fred cried indignantly.
"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," added George to his twin's argument, ignoring the side-abuse that his sister was doing to Fred while Angelina watched on, nodding approvingly.
"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said in a mournful voice that almost made Hope feel sorry for him, but she was still too irritated for that. "Remember, Hope?"
Hope gave him a fierce scowl when he asked her that, despite remembering their first year on the way to the castle where they had been accosted by Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"His finest hour," Fred said, unable to keep his lips from twitching slightly. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"
"But it was Scabbers!" Ron whined. "He's been in the family for thirteen years!"
But that didn't stop him from being dead (possibly) and gone.
Hope rolled her eyes, though she did feel for Ron, she didn't appreciate how he was blaming Hermione for what her pet had done. She stood up, kissing George soundly, smiling as he tried to prolong it as she pulled back with a light laugh and a whisper of "See you at lunch," that only he could hear. And then she tightened her jacket around her and strode silently out of the hall and into the chilly air as she walked down to Hagrid's cabin.
Buckbeak wasn't outside, but that didn't surprise her, because they were still in the cold months of the year and it would have been cruel to just leave him outside.
"Hagrid?" she knocked hard on the door, but for a moment he didn't answer so she knocked harder. "Hagrid? Are you there?" She could hear his heavy footballs within, so he must be.
The gigantic man opened the door with a look of surprise in his beetle black eyes. "Hope! Come in! Where's Hermione and Ron?"
"They're fighting," Hope said, gesturing to the small sign she was wearing around her neck. Hagrid took a moment to read the thick writing before shaking his head.
"Those two," he grunted, "never met a more stubborn trio o' people than you three."
Hope grinned brightly as if being stubborn was a compliment as Hagrid dumped a plate of rock cakes onto the table -which Hope quickly declined-, sipping the tea politely.
"We do try hard," she admitted, but then her smile faltered. "I've never seen them so angry," she admitted, subdued. "Do you think they'll ever make up?"
Her eyes implored the man, but he had no answers for her.
"They'll come 'round," he assured her, "don't you worry about that, they just need a sharp hit to the skull an' they'll be sorted."
But Hope wasn't sure how a little brain damage was going to make anything better.
"I got you this too, Hagrid," Hope added, pulling out a couple leaves of parchment and handing it to him. "It's for your hearing," she explained at the blank look on his face, "it's not much, but I'll probably do some more research when I've got less homework and Quidditch practice." Though, she thought to herself, the latter would less likely fluctuate as much as the former. Oliver could be such a pain sometimes.
Hagrid's eyes misted over with emotions as he moved forward to grip Hope in a tight enough hug that Hope could have sworn her ribs had broken, but she weathered it just for him.
The damned rat had evaded him once more; Sirius couldn't resist growling a bit at that. He was thankful for Crookshanks' help, but it had unfortunately yielded no fruits this time around. Crookshanks had attempted to snag Pettigrew when he was in the boys' dormitory, but the rat was quick and small and he had evaded him, making it look as though the cat had killed him in the process.
He was much cleverer than he seemed.
Crookshanks gave a meow of warning and Sirius stepped quickly back into the shadows as a now familiar voice rang through the hall. "Crookshanks? What're you doing out of the Tower?"
His goddaughter lifted the ginger cat up and into her arms with a bemused half-smile. "You clever boy," she hummed, "did you push that portrait open all by yourself?" Crookshanks preened slightly at the veiled compliment. "Does Hermione know you're out here?"
The distressed meow told her all that she needed to know.
"I'll take you back to the common room, then," she said.
"I was wondering if you were going to show your face again." A male voice commented, making Sirius tense and Hope only barely jump before smiling brightly.
"I just went down to visit Hagrid," she said in an airy voice, "so I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Mmhm, right," he said in a voice that said "of course you do."
Crookshanks took that time to rub his face affectionately against hers before leaping out of her arms and giving the pair a significant look. Well, no one could say that he wasn't part Kneazle.
Hope pouted briefly before grinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What? Did you miss me and hate being surrounded by all those couples?"
"What's the point of celebrating Valentine's Day if my girlfriend ditches me for the gamekeeper?" George said in a mournful manner, making peals of laughter erupt from her lips.
Sirius didn't like him on principle. You weren't supposed to like your goddaughter's boyfriend; it was probably a golden rule of some sort. Still, he hadn't seen her smile so much as she did when she was around him, and that smile always made his heart swell at the similarities it shared to her parents'. And clearly, she had taken after her father in falling for a red-head.
Sirius only slightly approved of the Weasley, and that was only because he was a prankster.
She raked her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck…it was getting longer and she didn't think that she minded it. "So, what did you get me?"
His eyes glinted, even though she could see that he was hiding something behind his back. "My dear lady," he said in a mock-knight-ish fashion, "whatever makes you think I got you anything to celebrate our courtship?"
"Courtship?" she laughed loudly at that. "Is that what this is? I was assuming you were some kind of stalker with the way you follow me around!"
"I follow you around?" he said in exaggerated surprise. "Whatever do you mean? I would never stalk such a lovely bird so mercilessly!"
Hope's cheeks burned a red Sirius had never seen before. "Who're you calling lovely, you numpty?"
"Maybe the person I will be giving this to," George offered, bringing the object to the front and revealing what he had been hiding. It wasn't chocolate or jewelry like Sirius had expected; it was a flower. And it wasn't just any flower, it was a blue iris.
He remembered that night well. He had been the first one to arrive on the scene, the first one to see the damage that Peter had done. He had seen how James had been sprawled at the foot of the stairs, his eyes wide and unseeing, undoubtedly having tried to stall the Dark Lord from reaching his daughter. Sirius had had to step around him, forcing the bile down as he raced up the ruined steps and coughing at the smoke, because somehow a fire had started to burn, beginning at the crib.
His heart had fluttered in fear, but then he saw that his goddaughter was not in it.
The back of her sleep shirt had been burned and he could see the burn stretched into her skin as well, marring one shoulder as the little girl cried, on the floor, patting a hand to her mother's cheek, but Lily did not move.
"Hope!" he had said in obvious relief, racing to her side to gently cradle her in his arms. This only made Hope cry harder, even though he had been careful to not touch her back, it must have been the shock of everything that happened.
He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, making the burn morph and blossom into a strange-looking but beautiful flower. Surprised at the lack of pain, Hope had stopped crying, and giving a silent apology to his friends, Sirius had picked her up and carefully carried her down the stairs and out of the ruined house only to be met with Rubeus Hagrid.
The man had insisted that he hand over Hope to him, under the orders of Albus Dumbledore, so that he could take her to her aunt and uncle. But Sirius had remembered all of the stories Lily had told him about her sister who hated magic, and he had no doubt that her husband would be the same. She couldn't go there! He had argued, but Hagrid would not change his mind, so he had to settle for handing over his beloved goddaughter, the last connection to James and Lily, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as she looked on in confusion.
"Pa'foo no go!" she whimpered, holding out her hands and curling them inwards like she wanted to grab him.
Sirius had wanted to stay, but he had to go, so he left Hagrid with his motorbike and had gone off to search for his traitorous friend. And then he had lost twelve years in Azkaban.
"You spoil me," Hope said, bringing him back to the present, "I wasn't sure what to get you so I just got a lot of chocolate."
"I don't mind," George said, leaning down to kiss her, and if Sirius squinted hard enough, he could almost imagine that it was James and Lily.
By the end of the week Ron was really regretting everything. Hope was still doing the silence thing when she wasn't alone with George, and it had already earned her a few detentions with Snape, but she wasn't going to stop until he and Hermione had apologized. Flitwick had been surprised when he had read the sign the first time around, but McGonagall's eyebrow had twitched in irritation.
George was pretty annoyed that she couldn't talk to him in public and the scowl he had given Ron had an underlying threat that he was sure involved a cruel prank of some sort.
He glanced over to where Hermione was sitting in the common room in front of the couch with her books and parchments spread around her. He could see the grey shadows under her eyes from where he was and how thin she looked…or was she always that thin?
Hermione raked a hand through her bushy curls, making reds paint across the brown. Ron flushed when he realized he was staring, and shifted his gaze to Hope who was sitting at George's feet, braced against his legs as she did her Ancient Runes homework. The knowing smirk made the red of his cheeks darken further.
She jerked her head in Hermione's direction in a "go on" gesture. And this time, Ron did as she requested. He shut his book and stood, walking over to where Hermione was sitting, working diligently on her Arithmancy assignment.
"Hey," he said, clearing this throat slightly when it came out a little more strangled than he had planned, "mind if I sit?"
Hermione looked at him in startled surprise. "Er…sure, I mean, if you want to." She tried to play off being calm, but her heart was beating too fast for it to work properly.
And he sat down, opening his book again, and for the longest moment, he didn't do anything and Hermione could hardly concentrate on the passage that she was supposed to be writing her essay on, and then she decided to act first.
"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers," she whispered.
"I know," he said back, pausing for a second before patting Hermione's hand lightly in a way that said he wasn't quite sure what to do. "And Fred was right, you know. He was old, and a bit useless…and maybe Mum and Dad will let me get an owl now."
He put on a brave face, but she could tell he was still missing his pet; after all, Scabbers had been in their family for more than a decade.
"Does that mean I can start talking again?" Hope interjected quickly, making their heads swivel towards Hope who was quirking an eyebrow with an annoyed look on her face. "Because I'm really starting to hate this whole silence thing."
Hermione gave a watery laugh and Ron cracked a grin.
"I can't be nearly as snarky silent," Hope complained, snapping her book shut and standing up and stretching before sitting down on George's arm of his chair. "I never thought I would miss my sarcasm so much."
Now Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones laughing.
"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it? Shame it doesn't come with a parachute -in case you get too near a dementor."
Hope was having a positively brilliant morning before that stuck up Slytherin ferret by the name of Draco Malfoy had decided to drop by. Her friends were finally talking, though she suspected it might be a little while before they were completely relaxed in each other's presences as they had been before, as Ron was still getting set off every time that he saw bandy-legged cat. George looked like he wanted to hit Malfoy for the comment, but Hope grabbed his arm before he could.
"Maybe you should get some special features for yours," she said coolly. "Maybe you should attach a dozen arms to yours, that way if you fail, you'll still have a one in twelve chance of catching the Snitch."
The Gryffindors roared at that and Hope smirked as a faint pink rose in Malfoy's cheeks.
"You want to play with fire, Malfoy?" she said, standing up and looping her Firebolt over her shoulder. "Then you'd better be ready to get burned."
And not twenty minutes later the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams were out on the field with the students raging above them. It was a beautiful day for flying, and being outside in general, quite the opposite of the weather that they had during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match that had only been a few months back.
"Ready to kick some ass?" George asked with a wink to her.
"You know me so well," Hope said with a smirk. "Kiss for good luck?"
"You don't need a kiss for good luck," George said in mirth as she pouted.
"You ruin all my fun, Weasley," she said in a mournful voice as she mounted her broom, kicking off firmly as the whistle pierced the air.
Her broom rocketed farther and faster upwards than any of the others' brooms, a testament to the Firebolt's superiority, and she took a brief second to enjoy how the wind whipped across her face, flinging her plaited hair to the wind, buffeting it like a ribbon caught in a storm. There were a few "Ooh"s and "Ahh"s at the speed of her new broom and she couldn't resist brightly grinning at their responses, but then her face melted into an expression of pure focus.
The bright sunlight was going to make it difficult to see that flash of gold that was the Snitch moving fast against the wind, but Hope was always up for a good challenge. She circled the pitch, turning so sharply that she knew that her old Nimbus wouldn't have been able to keep up.
Cho was marking her again…that was getting so old.
"Let's see if you can handle this," Hope muttered to herself as she urged her broom forward, whizzing past a few red and blue blurs as she suddenly flew downwards into an almost vertical dive with a hand outstretched, as if she already had the Snitch in her sights.
She could hardly hear the screams as Cho chased her, and then suddenly she wasn't faking it, catching a glint of golden as the Snitch raced close to the ground.
CRACK!
Hope cried out in pain as a Bludger collided with her wrist, breaking it on impact, forcing her to pull up and cause Cho's broom to skid in the ground as she pulled up too close.
"Ooh!" Lee Jordan complained into the megaphone. "So close! But a well-timed Bludger has put one of Potter's arms out of action, but, ah, the backlash! This is another reminder why you don't mess Beaters' girlfriends!"
George had taken his bat and given it a mighty swing that nicked one of the Ravenclaw Beaters' shoulders with a well-aimed Bludger. Hope couldn't help but feel a bit pleased about that.
She grimaced through her pain before using her only able arm now to direct her broom, twisting around violently in search of—
There it was!
She sent her broom speeding towards the Gryffindor goal posts, the middle one being her focus. However, by this time Cho had decided to block her by hovering her broom directly in Hope's flight path. Bad move.
Hope's eyes sharpened, the color fading to a steely grey as she flattened herself to the shaft of her broom and thus increasing her speed.
Her refusing to stop or shy away from the impact startled Cho, she could see it, and the Chinese fourth year shifted her broom at the last possible second at just the right amount that they wouldn't crash, before following her adversary after the tiny golden ball.
Hope lifted her good hand from the broom to outstretch it, hanging on to the broomstick with only her thighs and knees. The metal brushed against the tips of her fingers. So close!
And then she saw them. Three tattered cloaks covering hooded faces.
Her first thought was: Shit! I don't have my wand!
Her second thought was: Not this time!
And what she did next surprised both herself and possibly the whole stadium as she clenched her broken hand into a fist despite the pain that shot up her arm as she drew it back and launched it forward into the face of one of the dementors.
The pain made her give out a small cry, but then the fingers of her good hand curled around the ball and she barely had enough time to direct the broom slightly closer to the ground before she fell off it and rolled into the earth, clutching the hand that still held the Snitch around her arm.
She blinked dizzily as red filled her vision as George hugged her fiercely, cradling her face in his hands as if she was fragile or delicate before leaning in to kiss her so intensely that Hope swore that she saw stars.
She could hear Oliver yelling to anyone that would listen "That's my girl!" and Fred had given her such a tight hug that she could have sworn that he was his mother. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had each given her a much gentler hug and a kiss to the cheek, being the first ones careful of her injury as she held the arm close to her chest.
Hermione was worried, as usual, her face tight and her eyes darting to Hope's arm every few seconds, but Ron was just ecstatic, making Hope laugh out loud.
And then she saw Professor Lupin, his scarred face a mixture of amused and annoyed.
He smiled as she walked over to him with a bright grin. "Ever punched a dementor in the face, Professor?" she said, feeling a bit cheeky in the high of the win. "I'm adding that to my number of special skills: killed a dementor and punched a dementor in the face."
Professor Lupin chuckled lightly. "I would hate to be the downer, but…" He escorted her to the edge of the field. "I believe you've damaged Mr. Malfoy a bit."
She gaped as what looked like the entire Slytherin team attempted to disentangle themselves from dark flowing robes, with Draco Malfoy clutching at his face. Hope was darkly pleased that she seemed to have broken the prat's nose. And then she felt angry.
"Those asses," she snarled. "Maybe I should give them each a nice punch to the face."
Professor Lupin arched an eyebrow at her threat of violence. "I don't think that will be necessary," he said, pointing to Professor McGonagall who was red in the face and practically glowing with anger at their deeds.
"An unworthy trick!" she raged. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"
George took this time to pull her out and away from the crowd and a bit farther back so as not to be interrupted as he helped her slowly pull off the glove and arm guard, making her hiss slightly in pain.
"Sorry," he quickly apologized.
"S'alright," she muttered, her cheeks burning as his fingers gently smoothed over the flesh of her wrist.
"I don't suppose you've got anything else broken, do you?" he asked mildly.
Hope's lips twitched into a smirk and George drank in her appearance. Strands of her dark red hair had escaped her braid and fell around her flushed face in disarray. Her bright eyes and smirking lips made her look much more like a mischief-maker than he or Fred did. "Why, want to kiss it better?" she regretted it the second she said it, because her cheeks burned brighter than the sunset as George gave a loud and bright laugh before kissing her instead.
The last thing Hope wanted to do that night was be woken up by a loud scream, but that didn't stop her from wrenching open her curtains to find Hermione staring at her half in worry, half in fear.
"Was that Ron?" she whispered.
And Hope's face went positively white, almost exactly the same shade as Hermione's as they dashed down the stairs, throwing whatever decency they had out of the window as they came into the lit common room, closely followed by the rest of the girls' and boys' dormitories, a throng of voices filling the room as Hope and Hermione weaved through the crowd.
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?"
"I'm telling you; I saw him!"
"What's all the noise?"
"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"
"Excellent, are we carrying on?" Fred asked with a bright and eager grin, but it faded as his older brother descended the stairs.
"George!" Hope hissed, drawing her boyfriend to where they were standing. "What happened?"
But George looked as confused as she and Hermione felt. "No idea," he said, easily wrapping an arm around Hope's shoulders and feeling the tension that they held.
"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy barked, his hair mussed with sleep and his pajamas disheveled.
But then Ron, for the first time, latched onto the sound of his brother's voice and turned his round eyes to him. "Perce –Sirius Black!" Ron gasped out. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"
Everyone in the common room froze at those words, each person sharing a look with someone else, and Hope could feel George's arm tightening around her, almost painfully, but not quite.
"Nonsense!" Percy snapped, though his eyes betrayed his worry, and Hope could see his eyes doing a quick scan of his brother and his tensed body relax slightly when he saw nothing wrong. "You had too much to eat, Ron –had a nightmare—"
"I'm telling you—" Ron was saying angrily, his temper darkening his words before being pulled up short by the sudden appearance of Professor McGonagall whose face was contorted in annoyance and anger that all of them being down in the common room, obviously believing they had taken to partying once more.
"Now, really, enough's enough!" she said. "I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"
Hope winced slightly at the offended look that Percy was now wearing on his face. It wasn't like it had been his idea in the first place.
"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, the perfect picture of indignation. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"
Ron, who had already been growing redder by the second at how easily his brother had dismissed what he said to be true, finally exploded, his voice almost matching Hope's when she had her explosions.
"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron bellowed, his voice echoing loudly in the silence. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"
His outburst made a number of people jump rather violently, but Professor McGonagall was not one of them. However, Hope could feel Hermione's hand winding into one of her own, the worry making it shake just slightly. Hope could hardly bring herself to squeeze it back in reassurance, because she was far too surprised by the turn of events.
Professor McGonagall gave him a look that told Hope she didn't believe him for a second. After all, what were the chances of Sirius Black sneaking into Hogwarts a second time?
"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley," she said, but Hope couldn't help but wonder who she was trying to convince: them or herself? "How could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"
"Ask him!" Ron all but demanded, his finger shaking as he jabbed it in the direction of Sir Cadogan's portrait. "Ask him if he saw—"
Clearly very irritated, Professor McGonagall did as he had asked, glaring at him as she pushed through the portrait hole to speak with the painting on the other side. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?" she asked in a voice that clearly said she had better things to do than listen to the ramblings of a thirteen-year-old boy.
"Certainly, good lady!" Sir Cadogan agreed, and Hope could hear the clang of metal…he must have fallen off of his horse again, the idiot.
A couple of students goggled slightly at that, having not believed Ron, and Hope was pretty sure that from what little she could see of their Head of House, that the woman was gaping at the painting of the knight.
"You -you did?" she asked, clearly aghast just by the tone of her voice before stuttering out. "But -but the password!"
"He had 'em!" Sir Cadogan agreed, the pride obvious in his voice, as if he thought he'd done something very good and deserved a reward. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"
Hope winced. She remembered when Neville had said that he'd convinced Sir Cadogan to tell him the whole week's passwords because he kept changing them…oh, that really sucked…
When Professor McGonagall came back into the common room, her face was so white she could have probably been considered transparent, but then a lot of the Gryffindor students were doing that impression as well.
"Which person, which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?" Hope was almost certain that she already knew which student had done so.
Oh, this was going to be a long night.
Hope was starting to get a bad habit of pondering things late into the night, but she had an insatiable curiosity.
And Sirius Black is a rather curious enigma that deserved to be pondered.
She remembered clearly what Professor Lupin had told her about him: "He was very anti-Dark; he had to be to be friends with James. James hated the Dark Arts. Don't you?"
If he was so anti-Dark, then how had he ended up working for the darkest wizard in the world? How could he submit to a man like that if he was so against it? These were the questions that older, more experienced witches and wizards should have been asking, but weren't. After wasn't it simpler to believe a white lie than the honest truth? Of course, that was assuming that Sirius Black was in some way, shape, or form, innocent, and Hope wasn't even sure of that either.
Basically, she was just a huge muddle of confusion, and every question she asked had her even more confused than she had been to start with.
She sighed, silencing a groan as her head throbbed slightly at all those unanswerable questions that she was posing. If Ron was awake he would have told her that she was over thinking it, and Hermione would have said that all of her questions were taking her farther away from her original query.
"Lumos," she muttered, her wand tip lighting up and illuminating the darkness so much so that Hope had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust as she pulled out Fred and George's gift to her: the Marauder's Map. The map itself was a bit of a marvel…the amount of detail that was put into it was stunning to say the least, considering how much of Hogwarts there actually was.
She spread out the parchment on her lap, holding her wand over it as she inspected the dots moving about. The dot baring the name Argus Filch was passing by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Peter Pettigrew—
Wait, what?
She turned her eyes to the parchment again, and sure enough, a single dot read Peter Pettigrew. That couldn't be right…either the map was lying, or Peter Pettigrew was in the castle. Either way, Hope was going to have to check it out to be sure.
She slipped into a pair of sturdy boots, pulling the invisibility cloak loose around her shoulders as she carefully maneuvered around her dorm mates, taking her time in descending the staircase and leaving the common room in search of the part on the map at which Peter Pettigrew was said to be. And perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision, but Hope always had a bit of an insatiable curiosity.
Quinn had warned her about it. "Curiosity can get you killed," they'd said with utter surety that Hope thought they were talking about their previous student, Victoria.
But Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead…so why was his name appearing on the Map?
Hope pulled out the map, frowning into the darkness. It said that he couldn't be more than ten feet away, but there was nothing, nothing at all.
"Oh, shit," she muttered, noticing Severus Snape's dot coming around the corner, feverishly throwing up her hood. "Mischief Managed. Nox!"
Snape was the last person that she would have wanted to meet out and about in the late hours of night, and she had to blink several times at both the brightness of his wand. He paused, surveying the area, looking for any indication that someone had been out after hours.
His eyes bored through her, like he could see her and Hope didn't breathe, but then his eyes moved away and so did he. She waited until he'd rounded the corner before she started breathing again.
But that just added another question with no answers. If Sirius Black had really killed Peter Pettigrew, then how was the latter walking around?
The earth exploded upwards like a geyser, forcing Hope to jump back to avoid the spray of dirt as she, Ron, and Hermione trudged up from Hagrid's hut, all three in surly moods, but it didn't really help that Hope was already in a bad enough mood. Hence why the earth was erupting; no one said she didn't have an uncontrollable temper. Quinn wouldn't have been impressed, but Quinn wasn't here.
"Careful!" Hermione squeaked, avoiding the dirt as well, and ignoring the glare that was tossed her way.
Hope had barely opened her mouth to retort when a voice distracted the three of them.
"Look at him blubber!"
It was Malfoy (of course it was Malfoy!) who was standing with his two goons behind one of the massive stones just beyond the stone courtyard, watching the whole thing (which had included Hagrid blowing his nose on a large handkerchief as he told them how south the appeal had gone) with avid eyes.
"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" Malfoy crowed, his shifty eyes meeting Hope's as he smirked. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"
One would have expected Hope to be the first one to make a move towards the Slytherin trio, but, surprisingly, it was Hermione who was the fastest instead. She had stormed up to the blonde-haired third year and had raised her hand, smacking it as hard as she possibly could across his face, probably hard enough to bruise. Malfoy was forced to stagger backwards in response to the force behind it, much to everyone's surprise.
It seemed as though Hermione didn't realize all of the eyes were on her now, or if she did, it seemed that she didn't really care as she swung her foot back, aiming it forward until the toe of her shoe connected with his shin, making him yelp in pain.
Ron and Hope privately (and not so privately) agreed he deserved it very much.
"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul -you evil—" Hermione seemed to be beyond rage at this point, forcing Hope and Ron to grab her by the arms, both still very stunned by how she had reacted.
"Hermione!"
"Get off me!" Hermione very nearly snarled to the pair, looking very much like Hope in that instant as she yanked herself free from their somewhat loose grips to withdraw her wand and point it at Malfoy.
In all of the anger that Hermione must have been feeling, this was never a stance that she would have thought that Hermione would ever take. It was much more typical of something that Hope would do.
"Hermione, no!" Ron moaned. "He's not worth it."
And reluctantly, Hermione lowered her wand from Malfoy's terrified face, but just as he thought he was in the clear, she drew her fist back and shot it straight at the cheek she had probably already bruised with her slap.
Malfoy gave a groan of pain before he and his two friends made themselves scarce, leaving Hope and her two friends staring at each other as Hermione breathed in and out heavily.
"Hope, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione said, her voice higher than usual and edged with demand. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"
"Er…all right," Hope said, glancing down to Hermione's fist which was still clenched tightly. "How's your hand?"
Hermione shook it out with a wince. "It hurts a little, but it was worth it."
"Never thought I'd hear the day where Hermione Granger thought violence was the way to go," Hope said arching an eyebrow, making Hermione flush a little, the color darkening at Ron's next words.
"It was bloody brilliant, that's what it was," he said, grinning and serious at the same time.
"I'll say," Hope said with a grin.
"We're due in Charms," Ron added, still grinning so brightly that he could have outshone the sun. "We'd better go."
Hope wasn't too surprised that Hermione didn't make it to class on time. Really, the girl had been doing too much with all her classes and with doing research with her and Ron to help Hagrid (to no avail, it seemed), it only made sense that she would accidentally sleep through one of their core classes.
But Ron was starting to pick up on them using a Time Turner to make it to all of their classes on time, and sooner or later he was going to figure it out, probably before finals even began.
"Okay…what about this," Hope said in the midst of a study session in Morea's chamber, the windows cracked to let the cool nighttime air filter through into the sparse chamber, "a frame-up!"
"What makes you so sure this guy's a good person?" Hermione offered instead, not looking up from her arithmancy calculations, still sour that Hope didn't have any issue with them.
"What if Peter Pettigrew is actually the one that sold out your parents?" Ron was eager to hop on that train, anything to keep him from studying. "Think about it…everyone's saying Black and your dad were super close, right? What if Pettigrew got them killed and Black went after him but everyone thought it was his fault?"
Hope pointed a pen at him, having long given up on quills. "Now that's a theory!"
Hermione huffed. "You're just pulling this out of nowhere to keep you from actually studying."
"I'm studying!" the pair protested in annoyance.
"Besides, exams are still a few weeks away," Ron pointed out. "We've got time."
Hermione grumbled a complaint behind her book.
"Oh! Did I tell you that I finally got my patronus to work?" Hope lit up, prodding at Ron. "Wanna see it?"
"Hell yeah!"
Hope pulled out her wand and Hermione's eyes peered over the book, curious despite wanting to study. Hope had been partially right about using Nath as the basis for her happiness for the spell…but then she'd thought about what she'd seen in the Mirror of Erised, of Mirror Lady's proud smile.
"Expecto Patronum!" And from the tip of her wand, a silvery bird blossomed, soaring around the room before fading into mist and vanishing.
"Wicked!" Ron gaped in awe. "What kind of bird was it?"
"A raven," Hope said with certainty. "Cool, yeah?"
Even Hermione had to admit it, but her eyes caught a bit of movement in the mirror mounted against the wall and she could've sworn it was an approving smirk, but then it was gone and Hermione was just left confused.
Sirius had been lucky that he had been able to make a hasty getaway a few nights before, as Remus had shown up, almost catching him. Still, he thought he was completely insane by hiding in the highest level of the Quidditch stands where no one was sitting, watching as the red and green players flew overhead, but he couldn't help himself. This was his goddaughter for heaven's sake!
She wasn't too hard to pinpoint, despite there being three red heads on the Gryffindor team, mostly because she was the fastest and with the longest hair. She didn't seem to be having much to do, silently searching for the Snitch while her teammates flitted around her, fighting for the Quaffle or fending off attacks by Bludgers.
"And it's Gryffindor in possession," the familiar voice of the commentator that Sirius had seen with Hope at one point, "Alicia Spinner of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no –Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field– WHAM! –nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by –Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina– nice swerve around Montague –duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!– SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
The crowd roared and the Gryffindor section seemed to almost be vibrating with excitement.
"OUCH!"
Sirius winced in his dog form as the girl –Angelina– who had just scored for Gryffindor was almost flung from her broom as a Slytherin player smashed into her. He had to wince again as one of the red-headed twins, probably not George, flew close to the Slytherin, whacking his bat against the back of his head, making it slam into the handle of the broom.
And that was why Gryffindor-Slytherin matches were by far the dirtiest of them all. And if that wasn't obvious—
Hope had to duck suddenly to avoid a Bludger aimed at her head.
"Ooh, nice try! But Potter's faster than that! Better luck next time!"
Sirius was pretty sure that she had flipped the bird at the boy that had aimed the Bludger at her, speeding towards him before pulling up sharply as he shielded himself, making laughter ripple through the crowd.
Other than that, Hope stayed out of relative trouble, so Sirius could train his eyes on the Chasers and the Beaters as they flew past.
"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession -no! Gryffindor back in possession and its Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field– THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"
It seemed that one of the Slytherin Chasers had thought that a Gryffindor Chaser's head was the Quaffle, but Sirius doubted that was the truth.
The piercing whistle blown by Madam Hooch signaled the foul as well as the commentator's voice yelled angrily into his microphone.
"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"
"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—"
"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"
Sirius gave a dog-like chuckle at how unfazed 'Jordan' was in the face of the fearsome Minerva McGonagall. Obviously, the younger generations had a bit more balls than his generation (The Marauders were the only ones who had ever dared to be that light-hearted to their Head of House).
Then the Quaffle came out of nowhere, smacking against Hope's chest. She reeled backwards on her broom, resting a hand to the bruised area, looking a bit winded as her boyfriend flew close, hovering protectively with his bat ready to strike.
Hope's ribs felt bruised under her clothes, which was far better than broken in her opinion. But a few bruised ribs weren't going to stop her from catching that Snitch and winning the Cup. And believe it, it was going to happe—
The Snitch!
She saw it fluttering close to the Gryffindor goal hoops, but a glance towards Oliver who gave her a barely perceptible shake of the head told her that they needed a few more points before then, so Hope surged forward towards the Slytherin goal hoops. Luckily for her, Malfoy was as gullible on the field as he was off of it, and he followed.
Unfortunately, so did two Bludgers, but that only served to amuse her as she pulled her elbows inward to avoid being hit by the balls, but then they weren't the problem, because the Beaters, Derrick and Bole were closing in, raising their clubs.
Great, they were going to 'mistake' her head for a Bludger. Assholes.
A smirk lit her lips as she shifted the broom upwards at the last possible second, leading to the Beaters' bats to make contact with each other, no doubt leading to some broken bones, or at least bruised egos.
"Ha haaa!" She could hear Lee's happy yells over the enthusiastic cheers from three-fourths of the stadium. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle –Flint alongside her– poke him in the eye, Angelina!– it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke –oh no– Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save—!"
But Hope didn't have any time to see if Oliver had actually managed to save the Quaffle, because another Bludger was shot at her and she had to roll to avoid it.
Five minutes later she was nursing a bruised arm as well as the already bruised ribs she had, but she had expected no less coming from Slytherin.
Thunder boomed overhead as the previously clear day which had been growing steadily darker by the hour, until the rain began to pour from the grey-blue clouds. The weather wasn't as horrible as the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, in fact, Hope liked the rain against her face, plastering her hair to her skin.
"Ready to lose, Potter?" Malfoy yelled up to her, earning him a filthy look.
"You first!" She called over the wind.
An echoing ding told her that her team had gained ten more points, putting them at seventy points to ten in favor of Gryffindor, and then luck shined upon her as she caught sight of the golden ball, sparkling from the rain not twenty feet above her.
Grinning in spite of herself, she urged her broom forward, reaching her bruised arm out to catch it when she lost a good bit of speed, much to her surprise. Enraged, she looked back and kicked Malfoy squarely in the face for having the audacity to actually grab her broom.
"You no good sorry piece of shit!" she hollered at him as the Snitch had disappeared once more, making him grin.
"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Hope had to agree with Madam Hooch there as Malfoy slid back onto his broom. She had half the mind to yank her broom out from under him so that he fell a good fifty feet, but she wasn't that mean.
"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was pretty angry about the whole matter, if his yells didn't make it obvious. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"
But the Gryffindor team was fumbling now, their anger causing their movements to become erratic and disorganized. Hope twisted her head around, searching quickly for the Snitch before spotting it fifty feet upwards and to the left. And she shot upward, intent on the ball with Malfoy hot on her trail, but nowhere near as fast as she was.
The Snitch was just out of reach, but she was close, so close to victory that she could practically taste it. She threw herself forward on her broom, somehow managing to snag it by the tips of her fingers before her fingers closed around it completely.
Hope laughed aloud as the rain lightened to a soft drizzle as she thrust her arm up into the air as she aimed her broom downwards to the loudly screaming crowd.
And the only thing better than winning the Cup was George pulling her off her broom and kissing her so hard that she swore she saw stars.
When it was Hope's turn to enter into the obstacle course that was their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, she wasn't worried at all. Not to sound arrogant, but Hope knew her stuff.
But she couldn't resist arching an eyebrow when she saw how extensive it was from the outside. "You're serious?"
Professor Lupin spared her a smile. "Yes, I am. Now go have fun."
She glared at him before she set one foot on the ground which conveniently sank right into the padding pool. She moved slowly across the pool, just waiting for- Something slimy grabbed her ankle before she had time to even make a sound, pulling her down into the deeper parts of the pool.
Grindylows were in no way nice to look at. They were a sickly green with teeth a similar color and horns on their heads. Very befitting of a water demon. They also had a nasty habit of strangling its prey. Hope coughed, inhaling seawater as she tugged at the fingers around her throat, clenching her hands around theirs until their brittle bones snapped from the pressure -which was usually the only way to break the grip. Released, she propelled herself upwards with her legs until she could claw her way onto land.
"Lupin!" she yelled over the blood rushing in her head. "I'm going to kill you!" Of course, the situation wasn't life-threatening, considering that Professor Lupin had had to tame the beast a bit before the exam, but still, she didn't like being soaked to the bone.
Hope journeyed forward once more until she found herself before a series of potholes that no doubt hid a Red Cap. She had barely taken a step when an animalistic cry pierced the air and something small flew at her, but Hope had her wand ready this time.
"Expulso!"
The Red Cap shrieked as it was flung through the air to land not far away, stunned in one of his potholes, leaving Hope to meander on to the next task which was crossing a marsh, and the lantern hanging ominously from a creature made of smoke told her it was the Hinkypunk trying to give her the wrong directions.
She smirked as if to say "Nice try," and went in the completely opposite direction from it until she came across a trunk that unlatched once she came close enough so that a boggart could erupt out of it. The Blood-Soaked Tree was still the thing Hope feared most and she took a moment to regain the use of her tongue.
"Riddikulus!"
The Tree burst into flames, which wasn't truly funny, but it still brought a vindictive smile to Hope's face as she moved past it.
"Well done!" Professor Lupin beamed. "Full marks!"
"But the Grindylow—" Hope started to say.
"You broke his grip on you which is one of the ways to succeed against it," Professor Lupin explained. "Seamus had to do the same."
So, she grinned before bidding him farewell, traipsing off in search of a certain red-haired lad who had just finished one of his OWL's. It was because of him that not much later she found herself dragged through the corridors.
"It's raining," Hope said despite the quirk of her lips in amusement, "and I've got my Arithmancy exam in twenty minutes!"
"Come on, Hope!" George complained, dragging her forward with a roguish grin. "I've been taking OWLs all day!"
"Aw, poor baby!" Hope said, jutting out her lip in an adorable pout that made George gulp nervously. "Poor Georgie's been working so hard!"
"I have!" George said in a falsely affronted voice, trying not to show her how much he liked it when she called him that. "I deserve something for my hard work!" And then he pulled her into the pouring rain, laughing as she jumped as the initial cold. She shoved him, the water pelting her, already soaking through her robes.
"George!"
He laughed, swallowing her protests as he leaned down to claim her lips. Almost as a reflex, Hope reached up to stand on her tip-toes, tangling her thin fingers into his ginger locks, her mouth melding to his as her heart raced in delight.
After their exams were all done, the trio had made their way down to Hagrid's to check on him since the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had decided Buckbeak was to be put to death.
"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?" Hermione implored as she and Hope cleaned up the mess that was the broken milk jug that Hagrid had just dropped. "Oh, Hagrid there must be!"
"Yeah," Ron added, nodding his head fervently, "what about Dumbledore? Couldn't he—?"
"He's tried," said Hagrid, his voice a picture of misery. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like... threatened 'em, I expect... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's... but it'll be quick an' clean... an' I'll be beside him... "
Hermione glanced to Hope who had been surprisingly silent since they had made the trek down to Hagrid's cabin under the invisibility cloak, and she wasn't at all surprised to see the venomous glare that encompassed her whole face. She wouldn't have been too surprised if her friend sprouted fangs.
"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it –while it happens," Hagrid continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter –ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..."
Hermione's eyes were slowly filling with tears, and her hand shook where it was holding a new milk jug. "We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she tried to insist, but Hope could see it in her eyes; she didn't want to watch.
"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle," he disagreed. "I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway...If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Hope, yeh'll be in big trouble."
Hope scowled further, but she was distracted by a shriek from Hermione that had made them all jump. "Ron, I don't believe it –it's Scabbers!"
Ron stared at her, not quite understanding what it was that she was saying. "What are you talking about?"
He didn't have long to wonder as Hermione overturned the jug to pour out a very thin, very malnourished rat.
"Scabbers!" Ron said in shock. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?" Not that the rat could have answered either way. He looked rather terrified if the way he tried to lunge out of Ron's fingers was any indication.
"It's okay, Scabbers!" Ron tried to console the rat. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"
"They're comin'..." Hagrid had gone stark white, his face intent on the figures outside of the window fast approaching the cabin. "Yeh gotta go. They mustn' find yeh here...Go now...I'll let yeh out the back way."
The three followed him, doing as he said, but keeping silent because they could all see how barely held-together he was.
"Go on," he said. "Get goin'."
It was only then that Hope finally spoke, her eyes wide and a muddy brown, "Hagrid, we can't—"
"We'll tell them what really happened—" Hermione insisted.
"They can't kill him—" Ron added.
But Hagrid was beyond that, only bidding them to leave, which they did, moving quickly up the sloping lawn until they could look down at the cabin, but Ron and Hermione couldn't stomach looking, and even Hope with her morbid curiosity still winced her eyes shut when the axe struck downwards.
"They did it!" Hermione said in unabashed horror, her voice choked and her brown eyes wide with horror. "I d-don't believe it– they did it! How–could–they? How could they?"
Ron tugged gently on Hermione's arm with the hand that he wasn't using to keep a tight grip on Scabbers with. "Come on, we need to go."
"And do what?" Hope muttered beside him. "How can we leave Hagrid?"
"We have to," Ron insisted before clamping his hand down on his pet. "Scabbers, keep still, what's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still– OUCH! He bit me!"
"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione moaned. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute—"
"He won't-stay-put-What's the matter with him?"
"Maybe that," Hope said nodding towards the tell-tale thick ginger tail.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione complained. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"
"Scabbers –NO!"
The cat was already racing across the lawn before Scabbers had finally freed himself from Ron's grip, and Ron was forced to throw the cloak off himself in order to chase after him. Hope wasn't sure why he'd bothered; Scabbers was nearly impossible to see in this level of darkness and with his small size.
"Ron!" Hope yelled after him, before sharing a look with Hermione as they opted to run after him, tossing her cloak and bag off her as she went.
"Get away from him-get away-Scabbers, come here—" Ron lurched to catch the rat by the tip of his tail before saying in triumph. "Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat—"
Hermione stared in dismay. "Hope, do you realize what tree this is?"
Hope did. It was the only tree everyone knew to stay away from. The Whomping Willow, the only tree that hit back. "Oh, shit! Ron, get away from there! Run!"
But when Ron turned to look at her, his eyes fastened on something behind her. "Hope, Hermione! Look out, it's the Grim!"
Hope whipped around in time for the great black dog's front paws to collide with her chest, sending her sprawling as Hermione gave a sharp cry of fear, not able to move fast enough as the beast's teeth latched onto Ron's leg, dragging him quickly to the trunk.
"Ron—!"
"Look out!"
Hermione was thrown to the side by Hope bodily slamming against her in an effort to avoid a thick and thorn-covered branch of the Whomping Willow. Hope barely heard the loud crack of broken bone over the blood rushing in her skull.
"Hope," Hermione gasped as they pulled themselves upright, avoiding another branch, "Hope, we've got to go for help!"
"And leave Ron behind?" Hope demanded angrily, a cut on her left temple bleeding profusely. "No way in hell!"
"But—" Hermione started weakly.
"Are you coming or not?" she asked. "Because I'm not leaving Ron to fend for himself."
The fear that clouded her eyes cleared somewhat to be replaced with determination, but then it faltered slightly. "But how do we get in?" she bemoaned.
It seemed that they didn't have long to wait as Crookshanks raced past them, neatly passing by the branches that held the two girls at bay to rest his paws against a knot on the trunk. And, as if a switch had been flipped, the branches seemed to have been turned to stone.
"Well," Hope coughed, "that always works. Let's go before it remembers how to move."
Hermione allowed herself to be pulled forward, still very stunned at what had happened to Ron and what her cat was capable of. Hope slid down into the tunnel before holding out a hand to Hermione. "Come on, we should hurry."
This time, Hermione didn't disagree. "Where do you think this tunnel comes out?" she asked, out of breath.
"Dunno," Hope murmured, squeezing her fingers, "Fred and George say that no one's ever gotten into it, so…" She didn't bother finishing her train of thought as they followed the trail of paw prints and drag marks. There were only two rooms and the one with an open door had been boarded up with broken furniture thrown in every direction as if they had been ripped apart in a rage.
"Hope," Hermione whispered, making Hope jump a little "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."
Hope didn't bother to deny it, this time both of them jumping as something moved above them. Hope held a finger to her lips and Hermione gave a resolute nod and they crept slowly and silently up the stairs.
And, abandoning all pretenses, Hope thrust the door open to see— "Ron!"
Ron was clutching at his mangled leg with one hand and the frantically trying to escape Scabbers with the other from where he was sitting on the worn sofa.
"Ron –are you okay?" Hermione asked, relief coloring her face.
"Where's the dog?" Hope insisted.
"Not a dog," Ron gasped out despite his pain. "Hope, it's a trap –he's the dog, he's an Animagus!"
And Hope turned on her heel to meet the grey eyes of Sirius Black.
It was his eyes that caught her the most, because they were still soft, but also pained, like he was used to her eyes belonging to someone else. Was this really Sirius Black? He seemed…fractured. It was as if his time in Azkaban had broken something inside of him, replacing his liveliness with a gaunt mask.
"I thought you'd come help your friend," he said, his voice raspy with disuse, like how Hope's sounded now. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful...it will make everything much easier..."
Hope tensed. "I know he would have," she said carefully, watching him impassively. "You were friends, weren't you? The best of friends?"
She ignored how Hermione tried to pull her back from where she was standing protectively in front of her and Ron.
Hope was nothing like her parents, standing there with that severe look on her face was unfamiliar to Sirius, but shielding her friends from harm? That was all her parents.
"If you want to kill Hope, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron's sudden words startled her from her intent focus on the wasted man before her and she had to hold tightly to Ron's elbow to keep him from keeling over. Judging by the pallor of his face, though, the movement had caused him a great deal of pain.
"Ron," she tried to say, but this time it was Black that interrupted her.
"Lie down," he said in a voice that was much softer and quieter than before. "You will damage that leg even more."
"Did you hear me?" Ron demanded, somehow keeping his voice level and strong despite his pain, swaying as he kept a tight grip on Hope. "You'll have to kill all three of us!"
Hope watched as the light of memory faded from his eyes to be replaced with a madness and a grin to match. "There'll be only one murder here tonight."
Crack!
Hope was breathing hard and her fist was aching from the punch she had just delivered to the man's face (she bitterly hoped that it broke something).
"What the ruddy hell is wrong with you?!" she demanded as she stalked over to the crumpled man, hoisting him up and onto his knees by the front of his ragged robes. "I've spent months wondering if what everyone has been saying is the truth!"
His eyes widened.
"Because I find it incredibly hard to believe that someone so Anti-Dark just went over to Voldemort's side!" Hope snapped, shaking him violently. "Especially since you only knocked me out on Halloween and didn't kill me, oh, yeah," she added, her eyes gleaming manically as his eyes widened further, "I know that was you!"
"I don't deny it," he said finally, "and I regret it."
"You gave me a concussion," she spitefully rasped, her knuckles white, like she hadn't clipped him with her knife.
Black dipped his head just barely enough, like Hope was a mother scolding her child. "I regret it," he repeated, "but you don't understand –the whole story–"
"Then explain it," Hope growled, her eyes turning so dark that they were almost black as coal. She was so intensely focused on Black that she almost missed the sound of quiet footsteps beneath them, but she certainly didn't miss Hermione's scream.
"WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE –SIRIUS BLACK– QUICK!"
And within seconds the door was thrown open to reveal Professor Lupin standing framed in the doorway. His face was pale, almost snow white, his scars much more prominent, and his wand was held firmly in his hand.
"Hope, let him go."
She glared at him from where she was holding the former prisoner of Azkaban. "The hell I will!" she growled. "I want some fucking answers!"
Hermione whimpered from where she was holding up Ron in Hope's stead.
"Hope—"
She glowered fiercely, but under his stare, she relented, dropping the man to the floor and moving back to her friends' sides without taking her eyes off Black, though she couldn't help but be confused when Professor Lupin asked the man a decidedly strange question: "Where is he, Sirius?"
And when he pointed towards Ron, her confusion only increased.
"What're they going on about?" Ron whispered to her, but Hermione only hushed him.
"Do you still have your wand?" Hope hissed out of the corner of her mouth, not taking her eyes off the pair before them, and Ron gave a miniscule nod. "Keep it close."
"Why hasn't he shown himself before now?" Lupin was saying. "Unless–unless he was the one...unless you switched...without telling me?"
It seemed almost out of relief when Black nodded, and within seconds he had thrown his arms around Black and hugged him tightly like two recently reacquainted siblings who had had a falling out years previously.
Hope stared at them, not quite sure how to respond to anything. What the—?
Hermione reacted the harsh opposite on any way that Hope possibly could have by screaming: "DON'T BELIEVE IT!"
"You-you—" she gasped as Professor Lupin released Black.
"Hermione—" He tried to say.
"—You and him!" she cried, clutching tightly to her wand as if it was her lifeline.
"Hermione, calm down—" But Hermione wasn't going to calm down, she was on a roll.
"I didn't tell anyone! I've been covering up for you—"
Hope and Ron shared a confused look.
"Hermione, listen to me, please," Professor Lupin had to shout over her to be heard. "I can explain—"
"We trusted you!" she yelled, "and all this time, you've been his friend!"
"You're wrong," Professor Lupin was quick to disagree. "I haven't always been Sirius's friend, but I am now– Let me explain..."
But Hermione was beyond reason, and Hope was actually a little impressed. "NO! Hope, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too – he's a werewolf!"
Hope briefly started in surprise, but honestly, she should've seen it…he was always curiously sick about once a month, Lavender had said something about him being afraid of a crystal ball after that disastrous boggart lesson, but what if it had been the full moon instead?
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Professor Lupin said, an odd calm keeping his voice level, but with obvious strain. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Hope dead. But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."
There was the longest silence, broken by Hope snorting. "Okay, and?" she prodded. "Who cares? I want some fucking answers from him—" She gestured angrily at Sirius. "—about that night, about my parents—"
"I can explain—" Sirius took a step forward quickly, but the movement was too sharp and Hope flinched back. Ron and Hermione glowered immediately at her sides and Sirius' throat went dry. Did she think he would—? "Please," he said weakly. "Let me explain."
"If you havn't been helping Black," Hermione spoke up in a voice that trembled, cold and angry as it was, "then how did you know that he was here?"
Professor Lupin brought out a bit of folded parchment that had Hope swearing. He smiled faintly. "You left the Map inside Astral Projection: Bending Space and Time."
"I knew I was missing something," Hope grumbled under her breath. "Quinn'll kill me…" Then she started in surprise, looking on him with increased suspicion. "Wait—you know it's a map? You got it to work?"
Professor Lupin gave a small sigh. "Of course, I know how to work it," he said with impatience, "I helped write it. I'm Moony –that was my friends' nickname for me at school. The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"
"Well, no need to be so proud of yourself, anyone could figure that out," Hope muttered and Professor Lupin gave her a faint smile.
"I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."
"You're mental," Ron decided from the sofa. "It was just us!"
"I couldn't believe my eyes," their professor continued. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"
"No one was there!" Hermione disagreed.
"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labelled Sirius Black... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow—"
"One of us!" Ron snapped angrily, his leg very much a sore point.
"No, Ron. Two of you." His eyes met Ron's. "Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"
"What?" Ron said, a little stunned by the sudden change of subject. "What're you talking about? What's Scabbers got to do with it?"
"Everything," said Professor Lupin, breathless in excitement. "Could I see him, please?"
Hope could see his hesitation, even as he withdrew the frantically thrashing rat from his packet. "What's Scabbers got to do with anything?" Ron demanded.
"That's not a rat." Hope couldn't resist jumping a little at Black's worn voice. She had almost forgotten he was there.
"What d'you mean –of course he's a rat—" Ron said in a voice that said that he clearly thought that they were barmy.
"No, he's not. He's a wizard," Professor Lupin disagreed, not taking his eyes off of the struggling rat.
"An Animagus," Black continued, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."
"You've got to be kidding me," Hope and Ron said as one, Hope aghast, while Ron was thunderstruck, and even Hermione couldn't help but be mildly impressed.
"There's no fucking way—"
"Okay, hang on—" Ron was turning red. "Did Pettigrew get Hope's parents killed and then Black went after him, but everyone thought it was his fault?"
Both Professor Lupin and Black stared. "Uh," Professor Lupin said intelligently. "Yes, how did you—?"
"There's no way," Hermione said dubiously.
"Ron! Are you a seer?" Hope gripped Ron's shoulder, gaping.
"No! What-that's ridiculous!" Ron sputtered, wincing.
Professor Lupin and Black were suddenly viscerally reminded that they were dealing with teenagers.
"Hold still, Ron, I can totally fix that bone—"
"You haven't used that spell more than once!" Ron leaned back quickly, suddenly apprehensive.
"Purging basilisk venom, healing a broken bone," Hope shrugged like she was weighing the options. "Not much of a difference is there?"
"Hang on—" Black tried to interject. "Basilisk venom?"
"Shove off!" Hope and Ron snapped only for Ron's so dissolve into whimpers when Hope gripped his leg with one hand, intoning "Heal!"
There was a sharp click and Ron yelped, looking down at the leg while Hope swiped her hands against each other before turning back to the pair of adults that were evidently deeply disconcerted. Black's eyes, though, were still fixed on the rat still thrashing in Ron's grip.
"Besides," Hermione said sharply, slightly relieved that the bone had at least been repaired, regaining a bit of her voice, "how can Scabbers be Peter Pettigrew? I mean, wouldn't people know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus? We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework –the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list."
"Seriously?" Ron and Hope said at the same time completely dumbstruck.
"You put that much effort into—?" Hope said, her jaw unhinging, making a small flush appear on Hermione's cheeks at the veiled compliment.
"That is very true," Professor Lupin agreed, ignoring Hope and Ron's interjection. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."
A sudden creak below them forced them all to remain silent for a few moments, as if awaiting the thing that had made the sound, but nothing came as Professor Lupin checked the door and the landing for anything. "No one there," he murmured, almost to himself.
"This place is haunted!" Ron said, his eyes darting around nervously as if waiting for a ghost to materialize through the walls and attack him.
"Actually, it isn't," Professor Lupin disagreed, eyeing the doorway in curiosity. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." He sighed, running a hand through his grey-streaked hair. "That's where all of this starts –with my becoming a werewolf, none of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."
He sighed heavily and explained, explained how young he'd been when he was bitten, how Snape had been making him the Wolfsbane Potion all year so he could be a harmless werewolf, but how it hadn't been the same when he was younger, before the potion existed. Professor Lupin wouldn't have even been able to go to a school if Dumbledore hadn't made certain allowances, like planting the Whomping Willow over a tunnel that led into the Shrieking Shack to stop anyone from coming across Professor Lupin while he was transformed.
Professor Lupin's story was a tragic one, from any viewpoint. Hope couldn't imagine having to undergo the pain of a transformation from such a young age.
"...But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, your father, Hope–James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they worked out the truth..."
Professor Lupin's pale eyes lingered on Hermione briefly.
"And they didn't desert me at all," he said with a sad smile of remembrance. "Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."
Hope choked on air at that new information. "You have got to be kidding me!" she said, completely struck. "What—?"
A rusty chuckle erupted and Hope had a hard time pinpointing where on earth it was coming from before she realized that it was coming from Black.
"But how would that help you?" Hermione asked, enthralled in his tale, "wouldn't you just attack them?"
"A werewolf is only a danger to humans," Professor Lupin explained, "while animals can come and go around them as they please. So, in their Animagi forms, they would be safe from me."
"Were they?" Ron couldn't help but ask.
A wry smile wormed its way onto his lips. "There were a few close calls," he admitted, "but we laughed about them later, we were young and thoughtless and I often felt guilty about not telling Dumbledore of how my friends were helping me…" His face darkened slightly into an expression that Hope would never have recognized on his face. "I have been battling with myself all year whether or not to tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus, but I was too cowardly to admit that I had betrayed his trust during my time at school…I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."
Hope scowled.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Severus was quite interested in where I went once a month," Professor Lupin told them, "our group of friends were stark enemies with him and his friends. Sirius thought it would be…clever to tell him how to get into the Shrieking Shack, and if not for your father, Hope, I do not doubt I would have killed him, or at least bit him."
Hope was glaring now. "That doesn't explain why he's got it out for you!"
"He thought you were in on it," Hermione assumed.
"That's right."
Hope almost gave herself whiplash as she whirled around to see Snape removing the invisibility cloak from him.
Naturally the first thing out of her mouth was a hateful hiss, "Hands off!" But it was ignored because Snape's focus was primarily on Black, his eyes glittering with something that Hope considered just a sliver of madness.
"Ah, vengeance is sweet," he murmured softly. "How I hoped I'd be the one to catch you."
Hope reached behind her to grasp the hilt of the knife secured to the back of her belt, bringing it out silently.
Professor Lupin tried to interject there, but that only drew Snape's attention to him instead, and his eyes narrowed as his lips drew back into a sneer. "Ah, Lupin… I told Dumbledore you were helping your old friend into the castle. And here's the proof."
"Are you completely mental?" Ron had beaten Hope to the punch line, gaping at the potions professor as if he'd never seen anything like him in his life, but apparently the professor had deemed the three third years too insignificant to matter at this point, his attention focused completely on the two men.
"He does realize he sounds a little mad, doesn't he?" Ron asked the girls.
"He probably doesn't care," Hermione said a bit sagely. "Hope, what're you doing?"
Hope was currently carving a sigil into the palm of her hand.
"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes a bit wild. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf—"
Hope had to commend Professor Lupin for his lack of reaction to the jibe, as he instead said: "You fool. Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"
Before either party had time to blink, Hope had held her hand out and shouted, just as Snape's wand had snapped up, releasing a sharp bang. But whatever his spell was supposed to do, it didn't have the chance to, because, between him and Professor Lupin and Black was a pearly shield, rippling under the force of his spell, but remaining strong.
Snape turned around viciously to see Hope with her outstretched bloody palm, knife in her other hand. "Potter!" he spat.
But Hermione and Ron moved quicker.
"Expelliarmus!" Ron and Hermione looked at each other, both startled that the other had hexed their professor, though Ron couldn't help but be impressed by Hermione's nerve as the force of their spell sent Snape flying and crashing into the landing where he didn't move.
Hope tightened her grip on the knife, bloodied hand still raised even as the shield faded. "Don't move. I can carve the 'attack' sigil into my other hand in a second flat."
"Are those blood runes?" Black asked vaguely impressed.
Hope ignored that, eyes on Professor Lupin. "You said you can prove that Pettigrew is Scabbers?"
"Yes," he agreed quickly, "it's a simple spell."
Hope met his eyes head-on and after a very long moment, she nodded. "Ron, give him Scabbers."
"What? Why?" Ron demanded, curling his hands protectively around his pet.
"Ron, if he's just a rat, it won't hurt him," Hermione explained a bit impatiently, "just give it to him."
Ron looked between Hope and Hermione, before holding out the thrashing rodent to his professor. "But, he's been in my family for ages," he disagreed, "how could he be—?"
"Twelve years," Professor Lupin said with a pained grimace, "but he's not looking too good, is he?"
"It's 'cause of that batty cat," Ron said, tossing a glare to Crookshanks who was licking his paws and watching the proceedings with interest.
"No, it's not." Hermione's eyes had drifted a bit out of focus as she said those words.
"What are you talking about?"
"Remember when the three of us were in Diagon Alley?" she implored the other two. "You were going to get some rat tonic for Scabbers because you thought he'd gotten something while you were in Egypt." They'd poked fun at Hope and George for a little while, and had left after Diane had gone, leaving Mrs. Weasley in a tizzy.
The idea that Scabbers had been terrified since Black had escaped from Azkaban was hard to believe of a common garden rat. However, if he was more than that, if he was a wizard in hiding, that would make much more sense.
And the whole deal with Crookshanks being out to get him now made much more sense, seeing as he was part-Kneazle, which was a species well known for their intelligence. It didn't surprise Hope too badly that he had been helping Black all year try to get to the rat.
So, it really hadn't been Neville's fault that his list of passwords had been found by Black. Poor Neville, getting the brunt of the blame for something that wasn't his fault.
"Ready, Sirius?"
Hermione gripped Hope's shoulder, looking worried and intrigued at the same time.
"On the count of three. One–two–THREE!"
The bright flash of light that erupted from their combined wands blinded Hope and she had to raise an arm up over her eyes to block the light. Spots filled her vision and she had to blink several times, and then they widened to an almost comical size. Because there was now a third man in the room.
This man was far less impressive than Black and Professor Lupin were. For one, he was short, hardly half a head taller than Hope or Hermione, his skin was patchy and grimy, the exact color of Scabbers' fur, even his eyes were like a rat's, darting toward the exit every few seconds.
This man was the person responsible for her parents' murder?
Disgust curled her lips.
"S-Sirius, R-Remus, my old friends!" he stuttered out, attempting a weak smile at their presence, but it fell flat very quickly, and he twisted around, his eyes latching onto Hope as he came close.
"Hope! L-look at you, you look so much like your moth—"
Hope launched her fist, slammed it into his grubby cheek and sending him reeling backwards clutching at the cheek that was no doubt throbbing now.
Hermione had to reel her back upright when she pitched forward at the force of her punch.
"How dare you!" Black snarled, his voice much darker than before. "How dare you speak to Hope! How dare you talk about Lily in front of her!"
"You sold James and Lily to Voldemort, didn't you?" Professor Lupin demanded of the rat Animagus from where he was huddling behind a ruined table.
"I didn't mean to!" he whimpered.
"Like I'd believe that!" Hope snapped, struggling as Hermione kept a firm arm wrapped around her waist and Ron –not wanting to be left out– had staggered upright, tentatively testing the healed leg before joining Hermione in restraining Hope.
"The Dark Lord! You have no idea the weapons he possesses! Sirius, what would you have done?"
Hope could practically see the fire burning in Black's eyes as Pettigrew ducked under the table, scurrying across the floor.
"I would have died!" he raged. "I would have died rather than betray my friends! And you should have realized, Peter, that if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would! Together!"
Hope would've been okay with that.
"Stop!"
Ron had stepped forward, pale and unsteady, but resolute. And no matter how much he trembled -from strain or fear, it was impossible to tell-, his wand remained completely steady. "You can't kill him!" he insisted, falteringly.
"Ron," Professor Lupin said faintly, "this man murdered your best friend's parents."
"And he should face the dementors for it," Hermione butted in quickly, taking note of Hope's indifference, and being the voice of reason. "If he's dead, there's no one to say you're innocent."
She met his hard eyes uneasily. "That's got to be important to you. You don't want to leave your goddaughter in an abusive household, do you?"
Sirius reeled back startled, eyes flicking towards Hope, who looked away quickly. "No," he said thickly, "I'd take her away in a moment."
Hope's eyes shot up to meet his again, just as quickly, while Professor Lupin trussed up Pettigrew. "So, what happened?" Hope asked, the wood creaking beneath her. "What really happened?"
Sirius licked his lips, his mouth feeling uncommonly dry. "It was my idea," he said, regretting it so much. "I thought it was the perfect plan…a bluff…Voldemort would be sure to come after me, after all, why would James and Lily choose someone as weak and talentless as Wormtail." He gave a faint huff. "James argued, of course, but Lily…I sometimes wonder if she knew."
"What d'you mean?" Hope frowned, thinking of how she never got a death wrong.
"She said 'No matter who we choose, the result will be the same'," Sirius said heavily. "She was the one prepared, she had extensive…there was a will, a plan in place if they both died…she must've known they were-they—" Sirius' voice faltered and died and he bowed his head forward, swallowing hard and continuing on.
"The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle." He threw a glower to the quivering mass that was Pettigrew. "It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done…" His eyes were overly bright, like the shine seen when one was holding back their tears. "I would've gone right after him, but…I couldn't leave you there…you were already burned and scared and crying, I couldn't just leave you—" It sounded like he was trying convince her and Hope took a few cautious steps forward, taking his hand gently, but he squeezed it so tight, like her hand was his lifeline that he couldn't lose it or he'd drown completely.
Like Nath had been for her.
"The iris," Hope said quietly, "on my shoulder…that was you?"
Sirius nodded hollowly. "I left you with Hagrid and my motorbike and I took off after Pettigrew. When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"
Hope gave the cowering Pettigrew an absolutely filthy look. Nath had always said to be careful of what she said in anger. "Sometimes, what you want, you can speak into the world," he'd said sagely, like how he warned her never to scream unless completely alone, as far from human civilization as possible.
But this time, Hope didn't care; Pettigrew deserved a good curse.
"You are going to rot, forgotten, and no one will ever remember your name," Hope hissed wrathfully and he recoiled with a whimper.
Hope turned back to Sirius, looking at the lank black hair, the sunken cheeks, the haunted eyes, and she said the most powerful thing she was capable of. "I forgive you," she said.
And Sirius Black, who spent years upon years in the worst place in the world, constantly surrounded by reminders that he had failed two of the people that he had loved the most, with only the barest hope that maybe one day he would be able to tell his goddaughter that he hadn't meant for any of it to happen, and how sorry he was, and he was innocent of the crimes they said he'd committed…Sirius couldn't help but break apart.
His shoulders trembled and Hope was so very small and jaded and full of rage, but she hugged him tightly like she was afraid he'd vanish into smoke if she was any less tight. And Sirius gave a half-sob of relief, responding just as tightly, neither of them seeming to notice when Pettigrew began to wail even as Professor Lupin trussed him in bindings.
"I saw you," Sirius admitted once they'd parted. "Before term started…you were on a bike—"
"To go to Nath's potluck at work," Hope realized with a laugh. "Nath said I had a habit of attracting strays, but I wasn't sure what he was talking about…"
Sirius remembered the man with terrifying eyes. "Who is he?"
"My godfather, well, one I picked myself," Hope offered helpfully, patting at one leg. "I got in a bad accident when I was ten, and he saved me and stuck around…gave me a reason to stick around, I suppose."
She sounded so utterly fond that Sirius couldn't bring up the eyes behind the sunglasses. "But your scar…" It had been different, then, he remembered, more precise and simpler…this one was like fragmented lightning.
"I missed the train," Hope admitted grimly, "Dean, one of my friends, was with me, we'd gone to see Nath, he'd been shot and was in the hospital, so we took my broom to follow after the train, and, well, we got shot out of the sky."
Sirius' grip on her shoulders was nearly painful and Hope was reminded of Diane's fury when she'd come to Hogwarts.
"Avada Kedavra right to the face," Hope grimaced, not quite able to shrug helplessly. "Apparently the guy was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers, the Aurors said. He tried to kill Dean but I pushed him out of the way…Madam Pomfrey reckons my voice probably won't ever recover."
Sirius' eyes drifted to the obvious line across her throat and he was furious and so very, very sad. He pressed a hand to his eyes and Hope patted his hand kindly. "It's all right, I'm alive, and George assures me that's what matters the most."
Sirius gave a disparaging grunt at the mention of her boyfriend, but in that instance, he had to agree with him.
Hope tugged on his hand. "Come on, Padfoot, they'll leave us behind!"
It wasn't hard to figure out which names went with which Marauder. Professor Lupin had already admitted to Moony, and rats had tails similar to worms, she supposed, so that made Pettigrew Wormtail, and Sirius transformed into a dog, so Padfoot was the only option, really.
But Sirius still appreciated it, a Potter calling him by that name once again. He held tightly to her hand as they went down the stairs slowly.
"I guess hings haven't been…good at your aunt and uncle's house," he said finally, making Hope pause as they reached the entrance of the Whomping Willow, "but, well, once my name's cleared…if you wanted a-a different home…"
"I could come and live with you?" Hope asked completely stunned, her eyes wide and mouth twisting into a grin. "I've wanted to be taken away from them for years!"
"Yeah?" A small smile warmed across Sirius' face. "Seriously?"
"Actually, you'd be Sirius…"
He couldn't resist giving a bark of laughter. "Ah, now that's James' wit talking."
"You're welcome," Hope said impishly with a grin to match the shining full moon. Wait—
"Oh, no!" she gasped.
"What is—" And then he saw it to and his eyes grew. "Run. Run, now!"
"But, Ron, Hermione—" Hope battled against him to reach her friends, but Sirius tossed her aside.
"Leave it to me, just RUN!"
Watching Professor Lupin transform was probably the worst thing that Hope had seen by far, because it just had to be painful. It was like watching some type of sped up growth. The fur sprouted all over his body which was growing and lengthening. He had focused his attention on Hope where she had fallen and for a moment, she found herself quite unable to move. A true fear had gripped her entire body when Sirius had leapt over her in his dog form, his teeth fastening onto Lupin's throat as he dragged him away from Ron and Hermione, both who looked quite terrified.
Bang!
The sudden noise rang out and echoed, and for a moment Hope had thought she had been shot, but then Ron was thrown back a little, slumping limply to the ground.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione screamed.
But that had given Pettigrew ample amount of time to transform, and Hope and Hermione could only watch wordlessly as her shrunk into the form of a rat once more and disappeared into the grass.
Hope swore loudly, and then she heard the whimpers of pain. "Sirius! Sirius!"
"Hope, no!" But Hope had slipped from Hermione and was already racing through the ferns and down the hill to the lake where the sounds must have been coming from.
"Sirius!" Hope screamed, skidding on the pebbles as she ran to his side. He had phased back to his human form, but he was trembling and his eyes were wild with terror and pain. "Nooo…nooo, please."
The heaviness of the air had grown thicker and colder, and the lake was beginning to turn to ice, much like Hope's blood in her veins.
"No," she repeated, "no, no, no!" Her fingers fumbled with the butt of her wand before she finally managed to grasp it and pull it out. "Think of something happy," she muttered feverishly to herself, "something happy."
Laughing with Ron and Hermione, kissing George, her parents smiling down on her—
"Expecto Patronum!" Only a bit of silver mist emitted from the end of her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" But the longer she tried the incantation, the less it seemed to work. "Come on!"
"Expecto…" she gasped, her world going fuzzy as a Dementor gripped her by her neck. "I swear on my father's grave," she muttered with difficulty, "I'm going to give you the worst case of indigestion ever!"
She could hardly see the Dementor as if lowered its hood, shouting echoing in her ears, some voices she recognized, other's she didn't, practically vibrating in her ears, before something bright rammed into it, forcing Hope from its grip and sending her sprawling.
The last image that she saw was something she wouldn't have guessed; a fluttering raven sending off waves of blue-white light that forced the Dementors back, and after that, Hope knew no more.
Everything was of muddle of blurred voices that Hope couldn't make heads or tails of; the only thing that she was really aware of was the dull ache of her body. What on earth had she fallen on?
She opened her eyes after a long silence at the sound of a sharp bang, forcing her to sit up in her hospital bed and reach for her wand.
"Easy, Hope."
Her eyes, wild for a moment, met Madam Pomfrey's, and it was then that she realized that the woman was holding a hammer which she was using on a large slab of chocolate to break into smaller pieces.
"How's Ron? Is he all right?" Hermione asked, surprising Hope who hadn't even realized was awake, and Hope looked to see Ron still unconscious and pale in the bed opposite her; whatever Pettigrew had hit him with had been hard.
"He'll live," Madam Pomfrey said darkly, and she would have said more if not for Hope throwing off her covers and standing up. "Hope, what are you—"
"Where's Sirius?"
Madam Pomfrey started slightly at the familiarity Hope used towards the man who supposedly wanted her dead. "He's locked away upstairs, in the highest towers. The Dementors will be performing—"
Hope grabbed the older woman's shoulders, the wild look returning to her eyes. "But they can't do that! He's innocent!"
"It's true, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione insisted at her side, "Ron and I were both there. It was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed Hope's parents, not Sirius. He's an Animagus, he's been Ron's rat—"
"It's the truth, Poppy!" Hope insisted as the Matron looked them over. They certainly didn't appear to be Confunded as Severus had claimed, but what they were saying was ludicrous!
"I—"
"I would like to speak to Hope and Hermione alone."
Three pairs of eyes looked up to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the frame of the doorway, his face uncharacteristically serious.
"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey said, half stunned, half indignant. "They need treatment, they need rest—"
"This cannot wait," said Dumbledore. "I must insist."
It was only when Madam Pomfrey had gone that Hope and Hermione burst into speech.
"Headmaster, you've got to stop them! They've got the wrong man!" Hermione insisted.
"Sirius is innocent!" Hope added. "We saw Pettigrew, he was there!"
"—he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf—"
"You've got to believe us!"
"I do," Dumbledore said calmly, much more calmly than the two thirteen-year-olds in front of him appeared to be. "I do, Miss Potter. But I'm sorry to say the word of two thirteen-year-old witches and one wizard will convince few others."
"So, what do we do?" Hope demanded. "We can't just sit here and let the Dementors suck out Sirius' soul!"
A hint of a smile curved Dumbledore's lips, hardly noticeable behind his white beard, but then his eyes weren't on theirs anymore, but on the clock in the corner of the hospital wing.
"Mysterious thing, time," he mused in a vague voice that wouldn't have been out of place with Luna Lovegood. "Powerful. And, when meddled with... dangerous. Sirius Black is in the topmost cell of the Dark Tower." His blue eyes flickered between the pair. "You must tread carefully, you know the laws, you must not be seen. Three turns should do it. If you succeed, more than one innocent life may be spared."
Both girls' eyes widened in the realization of what he was referencing, and then they had to scramble to hook the long golden chain of the Time-turner around both of their necks before disappearing as Hermione turned the tiny hourglass thrice.
Time travel had always been a funny thing to Hope, even after using the Time-turner to get to some of her classes all year, but it was remarkably much stranger when you were actually following your past self around.
The first thing that became apparent to them as they trailed after themselves, was that Buckbeak was that "more than one innocent life may be spared" part of Dumbledore's cryptic words.
"This is going to be impossible!" Hope bemoaned in a harsh whisper from where they were crouching behind a couple of relatively harmless-looking shrubs. "There's no way we're going to have enough time to get him out without our other selves seeing us or the Minister seeing us."
"We can do it," Hermione said resolutely ("What 'we'?" Hope grumbled, "I'm the one who's going to be doing everything.").
"In one minute?" Hope demanded incredulously before falling abruptly silent as Past-Hope, Ron, and Hermione left, and barely a few seconds after they had disappeared under the cloak, the Minister, the Executioner, and the Headmaster had appeared, striding down the lawn and into the cabin. She could only hope that Hagrid or Dumbledore would delay them a bit is she walked cautiously out of the foliage and into the sunlight.
Buckbeak saw her instantly and Hope couldn't help but be relieved that he only ruffled his feathers slightly upon seeing her. Taking a deep breath, and being very wary of the voices coming from the cabin, Hope bent forward, keeping her eyes on his orange ones. This time, Buckbeak bowed seconds after hers, much to her silent relief as she undid the rope that was keeping him to the fence, clicking her tongue the way that Hagrid had during the lesson (had it really been that long ago?). "Come on, Buckbeak, come on…"
Almost, reluctantly, Buckbeak followed, until they were well into the forest and Hope could allow herself to breathe properly.
"Like I said," she added, her heart still beating in her throat, "impossible."
Hermione cracked the first grin in probably hours. "Come on, we should go towards where the Whomping Willow is."
Unsurprising, a good bit of their night was spent in silence, waiting for their other selves to leave the willow, but it was very boring work, Hope had to admit. She probably would have given up entirely, if not for the fact that they were doing all of it for Sirius, to rescue him.
"What're you thinking about?" Hermione asked amidst a yawn.
"The Patronus," Hope admitted honestly. "The one that saved me, it was a raven."
"So?" she asked tiredly.
Hope's eyebrow twitched slightly in annoyance, but she couldn't really fault Hermione for not seeing what she saw. "So, Patronuses are special to each person and the raven is mine, so I'm going to have to assume that I saved myself from the Dementors…no matter how insane that sounds."
But Hermione had grown up since first year, and she was well used to Hope saying insane things that sometimes turned out to be true.
"We have to go," Hope said, standing up suddenly, and hoisting Hermione up, making her rub her eyes several times to get the fog to clear from them, "Professor Lupin's probably going to be running around here, and we need to get to the lake, come on!"
Hermione became more lucid after she tripped over the first root, for which Hope was grateful; it wasn't any fun to lug around a half-asleep girl.
"There!"
The Dementors were already amassed around the lake as well as Sirius and Past-Hope.
"Something happy, something happy," she murmured feverishly to herself.
Quinn's approving smile, sliding their glasses down to wink their one eye whenever Hope guessed something right during their lessons; Diane's glittering eyes and warm hug as she laughed, arms tight around Hope and Dean like she had no intention of letting go; Nath pressing a kiss to the top of her head, making her so many promises and keeping every one; Ron and Hermione's steadfast presence beside her even as she struggled; and George bringing up her hand to press against his mouth as she flushed.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Hermione couldn't help but gasp at the power behind the spell as a graceful raven burst forth, sailing through the air to bat at the Dementors, forcing them back by the merest touch.
"Hope, hide!"
Snape was coming around the bend and Hope quickly ducked until he disappeared again with her and Sirius in tow. "How long do we have to sit here?" she hissed to Hermione who checked her watch.
"Thirty minutes."
And for Hope, those thirty minutes were a torturous hell, dragging on for ages, until Hermione said, "We should go now."
"Righty, then, come on."
Hope mounted Buckbeak without too much difficulty, but Hermione couldn't help but eye the hippogriff with a nervousness that was rarely present on her face. "Are you sure—?"
"Trust me," Hope said, rolling her eyes and holding out a hand to her, "it'll be fine."
But that didn't stop Hermione from screaming as they soared upwards and towards the castle, in search of that highest lone tower. "There!"
"Bombarda!" Hermione cried, and the cell door blew open at the force of her spell, leaving Sirius staring wordlessly at the pair.
"What-how?"
"Later," Hope said, jerking a finger towards the back. "Get on." And he did wordlessly as they few down to the courtyard, allowing Hope and Hermione to dismount, leaving the reins to Sirius.
"You should go, you've probably got a minute or so of a head start," Hope said, fixing the reins in his grip, and glancing up when his hand tightened briefly over hers.
"How can I thank you?" he rasped.
Hope leaned forward and upward to kiss his wasted cheek with a smirk. "Don't get caught."
Another grin broke across his face. "You really are James' daughter, aren't you?"
"Go!" they both said, and this time, he listened.
Hope hadn't touched the manila envelope that Diane had given her had Christmas. She hadn't been ready to open it then; she'd had about ninety other things she had to worry about…but now she had the time.
She frowned at it, hard, before sighing and twisting it open.
There were a lot of documents inside. Papers upon papers and Hope knew what they were for. Her eyes narrowed at the carefully documented list of injuries and accounts from herself and the Dursleys. Hope had lost count how many times that happened; she'd stopped counting once she'd reached ten. Diane had always been annoyed that they got swept under the rug…but each and every injury had been explained away and signed by someone who had never gotten her side of the story.
Hope's eyes burned black at the name at the bottom of each page. Dr. A. Dumbledore.
Of course, of course it was him…there was always something that had put her ill at ease in a way she couldn't explain.
She shoved the papers back into the folder, tucking it under her arm as she headed down the stairs, making her way along the corridors before pausing outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts room to see a few boxes piled at the door.
Hope stepped inside to see the office as empty as it had been at the end of the previous year, with no hint of the man that had taught there for the past year.
"Ah, Hope," Professor Lupin spared her a smile, "it's good to see you up and about."
"You've not been sacked, have you?" Hope asked, horrified.
"No, no, nothing quite so dramatic," Professor Lupin huffed in the faintest of amusements, "I'm afraid I've resigned."
"Reisgned?" Hope asked aghast. "Why? You're the best DADA teacher we've had!"
"Yes, Dean was quite irate about it," Professor Lupin mused and Hope huffed.
"Yeah, because he's got good taste! Come on! I actually enjoyed your class!" Hope insisted. "Why are you leaving?"
Professor Lupin smiled thinly. "I'm afraid that Professor Snape let it slip at breakfast about my, uh, 'furry ailment', shall we say? This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents… They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Hope. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you… That must never happen again."
Hope could understand his worry, his fear, but she couldn't help but frown, even as he handed her the book she'd left in his room, opening the cover to show her the map inside. "I do wonder, though, how you managed to get your hands on this…we had it confiscated in one of our last days of seventh year."
She couldn't help but snort at that. "Fred and George gave it to me, but they nicked it from Filch in their first year."
"That does sound like them," Professor Lupin conceded with a smile. "I daresay that if your father was still alive, he would've been pleased to be a part of the next generation's troublemaking…after he got done glaring at George."
Hope looked away, holding the book to her chest. "Would my parents…would they have liked him?"
Professor Lupin's expression softened, recalling every moment he'd seen the pair together during the year. The number of times George had gladly carried Hope's bag to her first class -being late to his own-, especially after her nasty fall, walking hand in hand down the corridors, George pressing a light kiss to her cheek while she laughed…there was a softness there that James and Lily would've appreciated even if Sirius couldn't.
"I think they would've," he said finally. "Though I think James and Fred would've gotten on like a house fire."
Hope sniggered. "If we're not threatening to leave George and Angie then what's the point?" Angie found it exasperating and George rolled his eyes. "But you're really leaving?"
"I'm afraid so," Professor Lupin said. "But…I'd like to make up for…not coming forward when I did, when you were in the hospital…would you mind if I wrote to you?"
Hope considered him. "Nath won't like it, he doesn't like you."
"Ah," Professor Lupin murmured, remembering her saying that before and he faltered.
"You've got a lot to make up for, Moony," she said, eyes shifting to glittering black and looking so very eerie. "Sirius gets leeway since he was in prison. You've got to work from the ground up...if that's something you don't mind doing." She was appraising him and he knew what he said next would make or break the relationship he wanted to mend.
But Professor Lupin couldn't help the faint smile that curved his mouth. "You sound like him." It was always James' nature to hold others accountable for their actions; he was exceedingly good at holding grudges.
Her eyes gleamed. "Good," was all she said about it, tipping an imaginary hat. "I'm sure I'll be hearing for you, Remus." She winked and he couldn't help but laugh.
There was a polite knock on the doorway and Hope's smile fell at the sight of Albus Dumbledore.
"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," was all he said.
"Thank you, Headmaster." Remus stooped to pick up his bags. "Well –goodbye, Hope. It has been a real pleasure teaching you and my congratulations on your corporeal patronus, once again. We'll meet again, I'm sure…Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage…"
He shook hands with Dumbledore and then he was gone, leaving Hope alone with the Headmaster. Fire was burning under her skin with no chance of burning out.
"Why so angry, Hope?" Dumbledore asked calmly, like he didn't know.
Hope scoffed loudly, slamming her book down loudly to rip the papers out of her folder. "'Why so angry?', well let's see if this sounds familiar…'it is my belief that Hope Potter actually tripped down the stairs as her guardians claim and that when she hit her head, it confused her, making her believe that she had been pushed'….or how about this? 'Hope Potter's bruises match the description of the game she was reportedly playing with her cousin, per her aunt, no need to follow up'."
Hope's eyes were hard and cold. "I remember both those incidents. They were not accidents, I can assure you."
Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh, closing the door to give them a semblance of privacy.
"It was your fault, every time, every single time I spoke up, every time there was an investigation, you got it thrown it." Hope had never been so incensed. "Do you even remember? Because I do, I remember every hit and punch and every time my bones broke…and you made it all go away for them. You threw me in a cage and you locked the door and I would like you to explain."
Hope had learned never to scream, but Quinn was the one that taught her to rein in her temper as much as possible, because shouting yourself hoarse might make you feel better in the moment, but it wouldn't get you the answers you wanted.
But neither Diane nor Quinn liked Dumbledore much, anyways. They had thought he was far too interfering and should just stick to his job description, which Hope hadn't thought much of, but now she had to firmly agree with them.
"There are things that you need to understand about that…things I will explain," Dumbledore said patiently. "But not today. You aren't ready to understand."
Ready to understand? Hope wanted to scream. Ready to understand what reason he could possibly have to keep her trapped in that house?
There was no possible reason for that.
Hope kept her temper in check, sliding Quinn's gifted green-lensed sunglasses out of her pocket and settling them on her nose, hiding her furious eyes from view.
"You'll regret that," Hope said with certainty, "and you'll fall from great heights."
The door burst open without her even touching it and she strode out of it, leaving Dumbledore to sigh heavily. That quiet anger had been all James, but at the same time, something darker and far more malevolent was brewing underneath…
Hagrid had given Hope Sirius' bike quite easily, but Hope had had to wait until she made it back to London for Diane to show her how to use it, because, evidently being able to flit through worlds made Quinn absolutely ignorant to driving a vehicle of any kind, and Diane, at least, didn't want Hope's insides to end up on her outsides and be scraped up on the road by trying to learn how to do it herself.
She called it the lesser of two evils.
Quinn called it stealing their protégé.
Diane had retorted "You're the one with cloaking tattoos on your fingers that she decided to drag Dean to a tattoo parlor to get."
Quinn hadn't even bothered to look sheepish about that. Dean had been exasperated when Hope had dragged her with him without telling him what it was for. It had hurt, a lot, but Hope was a determined rebel and had aged up her appearance enough for no one to question it.
So, when Diane deemed her safe enough to drive, Quinn gave Hope an ID with a picture that they'd taken of her, aged up to twenty-three, hair short and bronze, looking more like Nath, and they'd all waved her off, face bright and beaming.
"What're the chances she accidentally wanders into the entrance exam at Brakebills?" Diane mused, leaning back into Quinn's arms.
"I'm not taking that bet," Quinn retorted, miffed. "If she fails, I'll be incredibly disappointed."
Hope had swung by the Feywild Café -throwing the door open with a "S! I'm running off for a few months!" to which Sylvar said "Hell, yeah!"- to load up on quality food before taking to the streets.
It was hours upon hours later when Hope passed the passport to the man.
"Marina Thomas?" he queried and Hope nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Welcome to Athens, Miss Thomas."
And Hope grinned widely, revving up the motorbike and speeding on into the unknown.
AN: Brakebills will actually show up in book 4, which I'm looking forward to but mostly it'll remain in the periphery for most of the series.
There were a lot of changes this book and there will continue to be a lot of changes. Hope being a knife-wielding maniac having to refrain from losing her temper for various reasons -that will one day be revealed- is what I'm here for.
George is turning into more of a dork that Hope's got wrapped around her finger than he was before.
And Hope literally fucking off during the summer is honestly a goddamn mood
The 'other' Dark Lord is something darker and more sinister than Voldy, but it'll be awhile before you actually see much about him -he's a sequel issue.
