Brace For Impact: Chapter Four: Year Four
AN: You guys are slowly going to see more and more of the Magicians mythos creeping into this fic and I couldn't be more excited. In other news…Kingsley is kind of overtaking Remus' role from LB, and I'm really into it.
Dumbledore was growing increasingly concerned with Hope Potter. When she'd entered the wizarding world scarred and bent, he had thought she'd be more malleable, more grateful to the people who removed her from the Dursleys, more loyal, and her being sorted into Gryffindor had proved she valued the good and brave over the bad and cunning. But she was not what he'd hoped for.
He only prayed that she didn't jeopardize the efforts he'd made to drown out the dark.
Hope lodged a foot into a crevice along the perilous cliff face that she still didn't regret climbing. Nath had always said she was every bit the wild child that she appeared to be, he liked to say she'd probably been born in the wild, which Hope had always rolled her eyes at, but here she was, climbing almost at a vertical angle and not regretting it in the slightest.
It gave her the best view of the Gorge of the Dead. Hope's fingers caught on the ledge and her muscles burned as she pulled herself up over it with a grunt to pull out her camera and snap a picture with a mutter of "Hermione's going to kill me for this", grinning as she did so. Then she snapped a picture of her feet dangling over the edge, which was definitely going to give Hermione a heart attack.
She allowed herself to enjoy the view for a few moments longer before tucking the camera away and climbing carefully back down until she landed on her two feet, making her way back to her motorcycle.
Being in Greece was like finally learning to breathe fresh air. Hogwarts was saturated with magic, but it was always like…too much perfume in a closed space. Greece was like smelling a bouquet; present but not overpowering.
The first day Hope set foot in Thalatta -the home that had once belonged to the Marinos family- she never wanted to leave, well, that's not accurate. When she set foot in Greece, she never wanted to leave.
There's something about it that she couldn't quite describe…like coming home and being free all at the same time. It was hard to explain.
But the place was beautiful and breathtaking and Hope didn't want to even leave. She wanted to spend an eternity on the shore of Kato Zakros and never go back to dreary Britain.
"Is that normal?" she asked Nath over the phone. "Feeling like that?"
"Maybe you've fallen in love with Greece?" Nath laughed on the other end. "I can't blame you; its utterly beautiful."
And it really was.
"Might be a good place to move to when you're done with school," Nath added lightly, "get away to somewhere…peaceful."
Hope smiled. "You think I need peace, Nath?" Personally, Hope had always thought she thrived in chaos, which was why she found it so odd that she didn't struggle with the quiet patience needed for learning psychic magic.
"I always think you need peace," Nath sighed heavily and Hope's smile faltered.
"I'm okay," she assured him carefully in the voice that he had only known for a year. He'd been furious to hear about the attack, and even more to hear how it had damaged her…but nothing was safe, especially not for Hope. "I promise, Nath, I am…I'm eating Greek cuisine, I'm watching the stars, I'm hiking, I'm swimming after dark…I'm having fun and I'm being safe."
"Two of my favorite things," Nath joked, but it was weak.
Hope's smile gained a bit more life. "Careful, Dad, your heart is showing." She smirked as he sputtered on the other end.
"Oh, shut up, I am not old enough to have a teenage daughter!"
"What was that about you being older than you looked?" Hope sniggered. Like he hadn't once said he'd adopt her in a heartbeat. Him and Diane both. It made her stomach explode with butterflies.
"Whatever," Nath huffed and Hope could hear voices in the background. "Dearest, I have to go, but I'll talk to you later."
"Bye!" Hope said quickly, shutting the phone and flopping back into her beach chair, looking out to the rich blue sea. It was absolute paradise. She couldn't imagine how Diane could just pack up her life and restart it in Britain when she'd had all this while she was in school.
But she'd been pregnant with Dean and scared and trying to get as far from magic as possible, so Hope supposed that made sense.
Thalatta was truly breathtaking and it was less of an estate, or even a manor, and more of a family compound. There were guest houses with a large main house at the center. It was incredibly nice, hewn with stone, rustic despite the size, and clearly the Marinos family had been well off even before Morea had married into the Slytherin family, but there was no way that no one hadn't touched the place in centuries…someone had updated the place.
There was an outside area covered by a canopy where a long table and chairs sat, untouched with assortments of poufy couches and chairs that Hope had a tendency to fall asleep in, rarely willing to drag herself inside when she could drag a blanket over her and fall asleep in the warm air with the night sky above her.
It was a nice paradise but it was going to make going back to Britain -or Wales, whichever came first- even harder.
Hope slid her green-lensed glasses into place on her nose, packing a few books into her bag before making her way back up to stone steps, taking her motorbike keys and heading out again. She'd been traveling mostly by foot, because that was what she preferred, but it wouldn't hurt to go somewhere new, see some sights.
She parked the motorbike, dropping her keys into her bag before pausing, looking down into the bag in surprise.
There was a manila envelope that she definitely hadn't put there. She pulled it out, furrowing her brow at the name written in bold gothic letters.
H. Marina Peverell
Hope stared at the name for the longest time…Peverell sounded vaguely familiar, she thought she must've read it somewhere, like on an old family tree of her father's.
She broke the seal and opened it, pulling out the single piece of paper from within that read 'Congratulations!' with an arrow pointing to the left.
"Huh?" Hope muttered when she was hit with a sudden gust of wind that ripped the paper from her grasp. "Hey—!"
She reached for it but it fluttered out of reach and Hope had to hop off the motorbike quickly to chase after it. It fluttered down the street and into a building, and Hope really hoped that there wasn't anyone to look at her too oddly as she chased it all the way into an elevator that shut behind her.
Hope caught it against the wall with a muffled complaint before sticking it back into her bag and turning around quickly when the elevator gave a sudden ding, the doors sliding open.
They had opened into clear and bright light, but that was Greece for you and Hope stepped out of it cautiously, looking around, but there was no one there, just a sign with an arrow pointing forward 'to exam'.
Hope frowned in absolute confusion. She was pretty sure that she'd run into a small-time publishing house that had only two floors…but here she was in a glass-paned hallway with an arrow to an exam…
Well, what was the harm in following the arrows?
Hope shouldered her bag, taking several steps forward before curving around the corner to see a woman that Hope couldn't help but think of as a pixie. She had short, bouncing curls, bright eyes, and was short herself with a pearly smile. "Hello, here for the exam?"
"Um, I guess so?" Hope gave a helpless shrug, but apparently the woman was used to that.
"Right through the doors," was all she said and Hope pushed through carefully.
There weren't a huge number of people, but there were certainly more than an average class at Hogwarts, though not by much.
"Be seated," said the man at the front and Hope had to search quickly for an empty chair, dropping her bag beside her. The man who had spoken was an imposing figure. He was tall with dark skin and dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit. Well, he certainly had style, Hope had to give him that. And behind him was a banner bearing the name 'Brakebills University' with a bee over a key.
Hope tried hard not to gape…but that meant this was the school that Quinn and Diane had gone to, the one that Quinn still taught at…and Hope was definitely entirely too young to be there.
"Welcome. You may address me as Dean," the man at the front said. "I know you have questions. They will be answered in time. Now, your only job is to pass the examination before you."
Hope looked down at the little blue booklet, still feeling uncommonly like she'd walked into the wrong room at the very wrong time. She tried to raise her hand but the Dean shook a finger. "Absolutely no questions."
Hope lowered it, feeling unbelievably flummoxed as he upended the hourglass on the front desk. "Begin."
So, she picked up the pencil and opened the booklet.
They were the kind of math problems that Quinn liked to give Hope for fun…like arithmancy but dialed up to eleven. So, she went to work, unaware that she was being watched with interest.
It was true that everyone in the room that the potential to be great magicians and some of them were distinctly non-human, but Brakebills wasn't nearly as selective as some schools…and there was one prospective student in particular that piqued Dean Fogg's interest.
Professor Lipson approached him. "Hey, you might want to look at this."
Dean Fogg took the clipboard from her to see what she was talking about. Next to the name 'H. Marina Peverell' wasn't a series of check marks for each correct answer…there were plus ones instead.
"She's getting extra credit on every question…questions that weren't even designed to have extra credit," Professor Lipson whispered so as not to disturb those still taking the exam. "Whoever she is…she's got a gift."
"Hm," Dean Fogg hummed, pulling out a thick lens. "She's the one that wanted to ask a question at the start, right?" Professor Lipson nodded and he fixed it on her, only briefly, because the second he did so, it cracked the lens.
Professor Lipson stared. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," Dean Fogg decided. "Let's just see how she does on the practical exam."
And twenty-five minutes later she set off the fire alarm with a minor explosion.
"You know that magic is real, don't you, Miss Peverell?" Dean Fogg was just as imposing sitting behind his desk as he had been at the front of the classroom. "After all, those are cloaking sigils tattooed on your fingers."
Hope covered them -a bit uselessly- with the fingers from her opposite hand, which didn't hide them in the slightest. "I have someone who likes interfering with my life, that's all," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone.
"Don't we all?" Dean Fogg mused. "But let's talk about this first." His fingers fluttered and there was an ID in his hand. "Marina Thomas…pretty well done, but I think we both know it's a fake."
"Hey!" Hope snatched it back. "My mentor made that for me!"
Dean Fogg arched an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you're not twenty-four as your fake ID claims."
"Almost fourteen," Hope grumbled.
"Really?" the Dean seemed surprised by that. "Impressive glamour."
Hope pinked at the compliment, but it was one she could easily breeze by being a metamorphmagus. She'd even shifted her facial scars to the palm of her left hand to make herself less recognizable.
"I can't recall a time when anyone younger than nineteen passed our entrance exam…what's your mentor's name?"
"Quinn Adiyodi," Hope said and Dean Fogg actually laughed.
"Are they really?" he asked delighted. "They were one of my favorite students and are a phenomenal professor…did they know you were taking the exam?"
Hope shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't really planning on it, I've got a family house nearby that I've been staying at…I didn't really have a reason to leave it, unless I was getting food from the local market…but somehow I ended up here." Hope looked out of the window in vague interest. "Are all the students Greek?"
"Oh, heavens no," Dean Fogg was quick to wave that off. "We're not nearly as selective as other schools are…our students are from all over the world, anyone with potential." He waved his hand behind him to a vast array of globes, endlessly turning with tiny lights glowing all over them. "Sense magic is how we find prospective magicians, of course, it's not always right, so we test it."
"With a difficult entrance exam?" Hope asked archly.
Dean Fogg smirked. "But you didn't find it difficult, did you?"
Hope crossed her arms, refusing to answer.
"You got extra credit on nearly every problem despite them not being designed for extra credit…that takes a lot of skill."
"Thanks," Hope said, not really sure what to do with that compliment. People tended to attribute her smarts to her parents; it threw her off when people just attributed them to her.
"So, Brakebills University of Magical Pedogogy has a three-year program, graduate level studies. I'm sure you know that it is one thing to know of magic, but it is another thing to be a magician. We are nothing like Hogwarts, we exist for one purpose: to reveal your innate magical abilities and hone them to the highest degree. You will not always have the same classes as your peers after your discipline is chosen, because we believe in helping you become the best that you can possibly be…of course you're a unique case."
"Unique case?" Hope asked, taking the paper that she would need to sign to agree to go to school there. "How's that?"
"Well, you're half-trained and currently at Hogwarts, and while we do get Hogwarts graduates from time to time, they are graduates."
Hope couldn't really blame him there.
"But you have enough promise that we'd consider some summer classes until you actually graduate."
She furrowed her brow at him. "That sounds like something you don't usually do."
"Rarely," Dean Fogg agreed, "but occasionally…for promising individuals. After all, Quinn Adiyodi wouldn't choose just anyone to be their student; they would have to have promise and power, both of which you possess."
Hope had never felt so honestly flattered and completely thrown off.
And when she signed her name, she signed it as 'Marina Thomas', and Dean Fogg didn't comment.
She held everything in until she left.
"Diane, I'm freaking out," Hope hissed into the phone immediately after leaving the Dean's room. "What if they made a mistake? What if—"
"They didn't make a mistake, sweetheart, I promise, they're good at figuring out who's good enough to be accepted," Diane assured her. "What's really bothering you?"
Hope tapped her left leg insistently, rubbing her fingers into her thigh where the scars were under her pants. "I'm just…what if I'm changing too much? No one else at Hogwarts is ever going to…what if I'm too different from all them?"
"Honey, we're all different and your friends love you, George loves you, despite how different and strange you are…not everyone is well-suited for wand magic anyways, and you certainly aren't. Embrace your differences and shine!"
"You're an adult, you're so sure of everything because you've lived through it," Hope grumbled.
"I have, but I also know that you have a gift, and you should be in an environment where you can thrive…what classes are they letting you take?"
"Immersion Greek and Sing Language I, which I don't totally get—"
"Oh, sign language is taught before you learn poppers to do spells," Diane laughed. "That's the best way to loosen your hands up…and you learn how to insult your instructors without saying any words, which is always great fun."
Hope laughed. "If you say so."
"Have fun, sweetheart."
"I'll try," Hope promised.
Brakebills was astonishing and absolutely nothing like Hogwarts. Hogwarts had a romantic appeal in appearance alone; Brakebills didn't need that. Brakebills had everything you needed if you wanted to succeed and it was everything Quinn had said it would be.
The Disciplines were something, though. She'd known that Quinn had been a Psychic student and Diane a Physical student, but learning about them all and watching students performing different kinds of magic that would've been frowned upon, if not banned, in the UK, was something thrilling.
"Disciplines are incredibly personal to each magician," Quinn explained to her out in the courtyard one day after they were done teaching their class and Hope's was out for the day. "You can't just pick a discipline and go with it."
"You're teaching me psychic magic and that's your discipline," Hope pointed out. And it wasn't Hope's went unsaid but not unheard.
"Yes, but anyone can learn any type of magic," Quinn rolled their single eye over their glasses. "If you've got enough drive, which you do…besides, it was psychic or nothing and you needed that, you still do."
Hope huffed.
"But my point is, is that there are a lot of things that affect which Discipline you get into…the Circumstances, have you learned about that? Did I tell you about Circumstances?"
Hope wondered if Quinn felt so scattered sometimes teaching Hope because they confused what they taught Hope with what they taught Victoria. They hadn't taught Hope that, but Hope had read ahead; the library was very enticing.
"Major, Minor, Tertiary, and Quaternary are the classifications," Hope counted them out on her fingers. "Mostly we stick to Tertiary: altitude, age, position of the Pleiades, phase of the moon, and nearest body of water."
"Good," Quinn nodded approvingly. "Well, Disciplines are determined by the circumstances surrounding the birth of the magician."
Hope frowned. "So, would Dean and I have the same Discipline since we were born on the same day? If he ended up coming here?"
She'd imagined the grimace that had flashed across Quinn's face. "Not necessarily."
There were several disciplines: physical, psychic, illusion, knowledge, natural, and healing. Hope thought they all sounded pretty interesting, but she'd seen some kids messing with mirrors outside the Illusionist Castle and it had given her some ideas.
"Want to guess which one you end up in?" Quinn grinned.
"I think I'll like the surprise," Hope snorted. "Say hi to Dean and Diane for me!" and then she was darting off to the library, leaving Quinn to shake her head fondly.
The library might not've had as many books as the one in Pithos, but it had a wealth of subjects and complete records of magical newspapers, something not even the Hogwarts Library possessed, so Hope grabbed about a dozen from the months surrounding October 31, 1981 and settled in for a long read.
There were a lot of articles going on about her heroism and her parents' sacrifice that made Hope roll her eyes in annoyance then she found what she was looking for.
Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Sr., after the senseless murder of Lily and James Potter and the subsequent attack on Hope Potter by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and revelation of evidence provided by Supreme Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore, has reached the decision to send Sirius Black, spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to Azkaban sans trial for the death of twelve Muggles and wizard Peter Pettigrew as well as being an accessory in the murder of James and Lily Potter.
Hope read the line 'evidence provided by Supreme Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore' several times trying not to become irrationally enraged, but it was difficult work.
Finding out a few papers later that Crouch gave his son and the Lestranges a trial for the use of the Cruciatus on the Longbottoms was just a nail in the coffin.
"I cannot believe that you got into a graduate program without even graduating Hogwarts!" Hope had set the phone in the kitchen on speaker while she worked on the ingredients for what Nath assured her was the perfect moussaka, a traditional Greek food that Hope had heard a lot of good things about and was definitely likely to screw up, but if there was one thing Sylvar had taught her, it was that good food was worth the effort.
"I know, it's totally crazy!" Hope laughed, chopping two red onions and trying not to cry. "But the two classes they put me in this summer aren't specifically magic-based. It's just Sign Language I and Immersion Greek."
"How's Immersion Greek different from actual Greek?" Hermione asked befuddled.
"No idea," Hope replied, "I think it has something to do with how it's used in spells, though…oh, look, George is calling!"
"Ugh, you two are too cute that I honestly don't know how you function," Hermione complained but Hope positively beamed, ending the call and then opening the mirror to say "Hey, baby!"
She could hear Fred cackling in the background and George cast his twin a glower. "Hey, how's vacation? Are you in Wales?"
"Not yet," Hope shrugged. "I'll get there eventually. But you've gotta see this, Georgie—"
And then she was running out of the house to aim the mirror out at the sea.
"Wow! You get to see that every day?" George asked as she turned it back so all he could see was her beaming face as she walked back inside.
"Oh, yeah!" Hope beamed. "And also, I've told people that you're my husband."
George choked, face burning red while Fred positively howled. "You-You're thirteen!" he sputtered.
Hope laughed. "Yeah, well, people here think I'm twenty-four, and men are pigs so…imposing husband."
"Imposing?" Fred wasn't going to survive. "Hope, I miss you so much, sweet Merlin, imposing—!"
George threw another scowl his way. "I can be imposing!"
"You really can't be," Hope and Fred said as one and George positively deflated.
"You guys are the absolute worst."
Hope was brilliant, maybe she'd always been brilliant, just only recently had she begun to fully realize just how much, without Snape to berate her or McGonagall to tell her how things must be done. Not with wand-magic, never with wand-magic, but Hope didn't mind that.
But it wasn't arrogance that had led Hope forward into her terrible predicament, it was curiosity, and even failure was a good teacher.
Still, Hope knew when she fucked up really bad. Quinn had told her to only read ahead so far in Amelia Popper's Practical Exercises for Young Magicians. "There's a reason we teach sign language before actual poppers," they told Hope seriously, "because your hands need to be loose enough to perform the intricate movements in that book to use magic."
But Hope had wanted to see if Letum Ultima would actually work, and it had, to a point. And then she'd ended up vomiting her weight in blood onto the floor. Only downing the blood replenishers on hand had kept her from actually dying. And normally, if Hope screwed up a spell, she just kept it her herself, but this time she felt like she was recovering too slowly that a visit to the infirmary was the only option.
"What kind of spell were you attempting?" Professor Lipson asked, scrutinizing her through three lenses. "Because wow is your magic out of whack."
"Great," Hope said dryly.
"What I want to know is what forbidden rituals you were put through almost fourteen years ago, because it really screwed you over."
Hope remembered Quinn saying there was a patch on Hope's memory when she was a newborn -though why bother, Quinn had rolled their eye, it wasn't like babies formed memories right after being born. "How badly am I screwed over?"
"Well, obviously you're a Cage, not a Wellspring…Cages have a limited amount of magic to draw on and when they use it up, they have to wait for it to recharge," Professor Lipson explained.
"So, Cages are batteries and Wellsprings have endless supply?" Hope asked.
"Pretty much." Professor Lipson shrugged. "Honestly, Cages rarely become master magicians and most rarely use magic in their daily lives, which is especially unfortunate given how skilled you are."
"Oh." Hope sagged, disheartened.
"Someone really wanted to fuck with your magic, huh? Who'd you piss off at ten?" Professor Lipson wondered aloud and Hope paused with a frown.
"What d'you mean?" she asked, confused. "I thought that no one can make you a Cage or a Wellspring; aren't you born that way? That's what Quinn said."
"They're right, but Quinn's skill is more psychic in nature, it's not surprising that they missed this." Professor Lipson held up her hands quickly when Hope opened her mouth, irritated. "Look, it's an easy thing to miss if you aren't looking for it. But your body wasn't born with a drop of magic within it."
"Huh?" Hope gaped.
"Do you have any idea how much effort you have to go through to force a magical core into a body that has no need for it?" Professor Lipson asked rhetorically and Hope couldn't wrap her mind around it.
"But-but I thought no one made me a Cage, I thought you were just born that way, that's what Quinn said!" Hope insisted, cycling back to what she knew and Professor Lipson grimaced.
"That is true," she admitted, "for the most part. It's been done before, but it's a forbidden kind of magic."
"I thought no magic was forbidden," Hope's eyes were wide. For magicians, anyways.
"Usually," Professor Lipson agreed, "but forcing a magical core into a body that's adapted to life without it is usually a power play. You only have access to so much magic. It was used as a way to…corral enemies, offering only scraps and making them dependent on them and the Caster…I'd say in your case someone wants you to play a very specific part, one that requires you to have magic."
Hope frowned deeply. Dumbledore had moved her around on a chessboard only he could see…but he didn't strike her as the kind of person that would use some forbidden magic to get his way…it had to be someone else.
"As it is, your magic is like an infection, its spread through your whole body, and using too much will kill you, I promise," Professor Lipson said seriously. "Removing it is beyond any power I possess…so I would take care about how much magic you use in the future."
Hope looked down at the veins in her arms, more black than blue. "Right," she muttered. "Does it have to do with the patch on my memory?"
Professor Lipson tilted her head. "Well, they were placed at the same time," she said, "but they're separate entities, they don't rely on each other."
Hope clenched her fists tight once and released them.
"I would say that someone wants you to have magic, but as little as possible, knowing that removing it would kill you…not someone I'd like to know, personally."
Hope thought about Voldemort and sighed. "You're not wrong."
There was a loud throat clearing and Hope flinched, seeing Quinn leaning against the partition, their expression thunderous, even with the sunglasses. Hope swallowed thickly and tried to make herself smaller. "Oh, I'm so fucked."
Quinn removed the yellow-lensed glasses and glared with their single eye. "Yes, you are. Ellie, will you excuse us?"
"Of course," Professor Lipson said quickly, eyes flicking between them. "Just go easy on her? She's had a bit of a day."
Quinn grunted, waiting until she'd gone before crossing their arms and saying "What did I tell you about how dangerous magic can be?"
"I knew it would be dangerous!" Hope sulked. "I was testing out a new spell, and obviously it didn't work the way I wanted, but—"
"No buts!" Quinn snapped. "You knew that spell required power you didn't have for it to work, you were just too—"
"I didn't know how—" Hope searched for the word briefly. "—handicapped I was and if I had I wouldn't have tried it!"
"Yes, you would've," Quinn sighed, the fight going out of them as they came closer, taking Hope's hands in theirs. "That's just—Marina, listen, I know you're a very curious person, and I am so glad that you found something that you excel in and meta-composition is a very specialized field and you are very gifted…but you know it's dangerous too."
Quinn had knelt down so Hope could see their eye and the empty hole where the other had been. Quinn had never said what had happened to their eye; Hope wondered if the reason had to do with creating spells.
"I know," Hope said, blinking furiously. "I just wanted to see if it would work."
"No, you wanted to see if it would kill you."
Hope flinched. "I'm not suicidal, I'm on my meds."
"Look at me," Quinn was patient and direct and Hope met their eyes again. "You've always had a morbid curiosity with death and something tells me it's a family trait—"
Hope frowned at that with a bit of confusion, opening her mouth to ask but Quinn was still talking.
"And you think I can't tell when your depression rears its head?" Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Your aura has never been a muddier shade of pink."
"Pink?" Hope snorted. "My aura being pink means I'm depressed?"
Quinn's expression was unimpressed. They were a Psychic, of course, they put more emphasis on things Hope didn't always and one of those things was auras. "Pink auras usually indicate growing compassion and kindness, but your pink is muddy, and that means emotional imbalance, someone who gives too much and sacrifices their needs."
The fight left Hope. "Oh," she said dully.
"I'm worried about you…I think you're at the precipice of something, something that lead you to new heights or one that can drag you down to the depths that you are halfway towards." Their hands were warm on Hope's cheeks.
Hope had dreamed a lot of a forest with darkness at every turn, with the Blood-Soaked Tree in the center. "What if the best place to see is in the darkness? What if the light drowns out everything in sight?"
Quinn's expression softened. "Then trust your judgement."
"But you don't."
"I don't trust your curiosity," Quinn sighed, "that's the part that gets you into so much trouble. That's the part that thinks as long as the spell works, then it's worth nearly dying."
"Fred and George test new spells out on themselves all the time!" Hope insisted sourly.
"Fred and George create spells for the intention of bringing fun and joy into the world," Quinn replied dryly. They knew enough about Fred and George's plans and how Mrs. Weasley didn't approve of them, which was enough to convince them.
"And I don't?" Hope knew she didn't, she was just arguing for the sake of arguing.
"You create spells to push magic as far as it will go," Quinn rested a hand on their hip. "You know it's not the same. You're brilliant, but what you really need is an off-switch."
Hope thought about Professor Lipson talking about her magic like it was an infection. "Yeah, no kidding," she muttered.
"Obviously, magic is different for you, especially with what Ellie was saying about forced magical implantation," Quinn grimaced. "God, that's so disgusting to think about let alone experience…it just means you'll have to be careful about how much magic you use."
Hope couldn't help but feel bitter, knowing that no one in Hogwarts ever had this issue.
"Everything is good in moderation, even magic," Quinn promised.
Hope pursed her lips. But she couldn't disagree. "Okay," she sighed, "I'll be more careful."
"See that you do," Quinn said tiredly. "How did your exams go?"
"I passed," Hope laughed. "I'm still trying to figure out my classes for next summer. I'm thinking Introduction Casting, Applied Potions, and Complex Communications."
"Ready for a challenge?" Quinn laughed and Hope beamed. Quinn dropped a kiss to the top of Hope's head like Nath always did and Hope's heart ached suddenly. "Get some rest, please. You're still looking pale."
Quinn rarely said 'please'.
"I'll try," Hope said, watching them leave with a heavy sigh.
But Hope had never been very good at getting a good amount of sleep.
Honestly, Hope probably should've waited a little longer, it was barely daybreak and Hope had slept fitfully until the Tree threatened to induce a panic attack. What Hope really needed was some advice, but she didn't want to ask Quinn.
She needed advice from an unbiased source.
Which was how she found herself outside of Dean Henry Fogg's place, knocking politely.
When the door opened, it wasn't Dean Fogg on the other side, but a very familiar man with dark skin with a single golden hoop earring in one ear.
"Miss Potter," the man said in surprise, "what can I do for you?"
Hope's mouth twisted, like how she felt when people called her the Girl-Who-Lived and she had to correct them to "Hope, just Hope". She'd forgotten to shift the scar to her hand when she'd left, so it was only her fault that she'd been recognized. "Mari," she corrected this time and the man gave her an apologetic smile.
"Mari," he corrected, "what can I do for you?"
"Um, well…aren't you that Auror guy that questioned me at the start of the year?" Hope asked with a furrowed brow. It had been a difficult time and Hope didn't remember most of what she said, just that she hadn't said anything about the Giant Squid eating Rookwood, which, frankly, was still pretty startling.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt," he smiled, offering her a hand and Hope shook it once. "I surprised you remember me…you were pretty…"
"Scattered?" Hope offered helpfully. "Delirious? All over the place?"
"Traumatized," Kingsley said instead and Hope scoffed.
"You think that was the first time someone tried to kill me?" You think that was the first time I killed someone?
The silence was unbelievably awkward.
"Are you here to see my husband?" Kingsley asked.
Hope blinked for a moment before realizing that he was wearing a golden ring that matched Dean Fogg's. "You're Dean Fogg's husband?" Her eyebrows rose high before flushing in embarrassment. "Wait, that came out so wrong, he's just so…and you're so…I'm just digging myself into a hole, aren't I?"
Kingsley laughed. "Would you like some tea, Mari?"
"Tea would be great," Hope sighed, a hand against her brow, her scar aching.
Ten minutes later Hope was sitting next to him on bench behind the house with a cup of tea in her hand that she wasn't drinking.
"I give better advice than Henry," Kingsley promised, "what's on your mind?"
Hope looked down at her hands, at the runes tattooed on her knuckles that Dean had sketched to perfection when she'd dragged him with her to the tattoo parlor. "I screwed up a spell," she admitted, "and it almost killed me…and that was when Lipson told me that I wasn't born with magic."
If Kingsley was incredibly surprised, he didn't show it. "I can understand how that could be quite a shock."
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Hope exploded suddenly. "To be treated like shit by people you're related to because your parents had magic? To struggle through years of wand magic where it takes me five times as long to get things to work? Only to find out that you shouldn't even be in school in the first place? And then you start thinking: well, maybe I shouldn't've even been allowed into Hogwarts to begin with! But if I wasn't in Hogwarts, I'd probably be dead and no one would've cared, because I was just little orphan Potter who's so unnatural! I'd never have met Ron or Hermione or Dean or George or Fred…or Diane or Quinn…just Nath."
The fire extinguished just as quickly as it had burned bright and she sagged. "I'm just a piece on a chess board…so many people tried to get me removed from the Dursleys and Dumbledore blocked them all and my godfather was sent to prison for a crime he didn't commit, and…and I'm just lost in the forest and I don't know what to do."
Kingsley didn't say anything for the longest time. "Did you know that magic in its most natural form required no wand or staff?" he asked her instead.
Hope lifted her head.
He smiled, nodding to the scarred runes on her wrists and palms. "Blood Magick is a very old, very specific kind of magic, not the kind of thing just anyone would get into…its very old, very powerful, and very dangerous. It, along with a lot of other wandless magic fell out of favor back in the early tenth century, supposedly spurred by Merlin's emphasis on magic conducted through a separate medium."
Hope scowled. "Wasn't Merlin alive around the time Salazar Slytherin was? His wife Morea Marinos was a powerful magician. No way would she have used a wand because using your hands fell out of favor."
"Maybe not, but it didn't save her…it's probably what drove him to start using a wand in the first place." Kingsley shrugged and Hope scrutinized him.
"You know a lot about history."
He laughed. "Henry's always trying to get me to resign from the force, enjoy the quiet life here with him, be a teacher of history at Brakebills…'history nut' he likes to call me."
"Hm." That was actually pretty cute. "My boyfriend's a potions maniac."
"There's always one," Kingsley agrees sagely. "But what I'm saying is…inspiration can be found in a multitude of sources. Just because you use your magic in a different way than your peers doesn't make you less…and it's not your fault that someone decided to give you magic when you didn't need it."
"But I still feel like a fraud," Hope insisted.
"You're not to first person to have a magical core inserted into your body, I suspect that's a natural feeling…have you ever been comfortable in your skin?"
Hope tried to think. Honestly, she'd always thought it was growing up in an abusive environment. "Probably not," she sighed.
"You're not a fraud," Kingsley assured her. "Henry raves enough about your brilliance and if you were a fraud, he wouldn't bother."
Hope turned pink.
"And I think you understand consequences better than most people…but your life shouldn't be weighed against magical advancement. You matter more than any spell you could create. You're worth more than what you can give to other people."
He and Quinn were apparently on the same page. Somehow, she didn't think Dumbledore would agree…but why did she give a fuck if he would agree? The bastard was an architect in the destruction of her life, why did she care what he wanted?
She didn't.
"Okay," she said finally, feeling lighter, before narrowing her eyes at him. "Maybe you should be a therapist instead, Kingsley."
"Henry's said that too," Kingsley laughed and Hope drained her cup. "Now, I hope you have everything you need, because unfortunately I have to get to the office."
"Oh, yeah," Hope checked her watch. It was almost time for her last seminar before she headed up to Wales. "Yes, thank you, for the tea, and, you know, the advice…it helped me."
"I'm glad," Kingsley smiled. "Enjoy the rest of your holiday, Mari."
Hope tipped an imaginary hat as she stood.
This is the absolute worst seminar you could've signed me up for, Hope texted furiously to Quinn.
Honestly, she really didn't give a fuck, literally. She was thirteen, why did she honestly care about inter-Magician relations or sex education?
But it was a requirement for all new students and, even more unfortunately, it was taught by the Dean. It was like being taught sex ed by Dumbledore, but slightly less appalling. Still, she wrote down everything on the board, trying to keep everyone from seeing how red her face was.
Do's and Don'ts of magical intercourse
1.Avoid rapid finger movements
2.If an enlargement spell lasts longer than 4 hours -call a doctor
3.No mind control spells
4.Stretch
5.Hydrate (potions don't count)
6.However magical the creature, if it can talk it can give consent
7.Hexes are temporary, curses are forever
8.If using levitation, remember that you will fall post-climax
9.Don't use the motion potion for lotion
"If it burns when you pee, infirmary," Dean Fogg said from the front. "Red bumps like a curse, see a nurse…now let's talk about procreation at the basics…do not assume that your classmate is human, just because they look it. Hybrids abound."
Hope leaned her head in her hand wondering what on earth possessed her to take more school during the summer.
"DNA magic develops in utero, which can affect the mother unpredictably, which can result in maiming or death…"
"How was Sex Ed?" Quinn grinned at Hope's scowl, catching her as she left the room. "Yeah, you and George don't strike me as the type to jump immediately in the sack…that may be the only man I respect."
Hope snorted, shoving her notebook into her bag. "I have boundaries; George respects that."
"Which is why I approve of him," Quinn replied easily, undeterred.
"What? Does Dean not count?" Hope mused, thoughts distant. She hadn't spoken to Dean in weeks and it was starting to become disheartening.
"Eh, he's an extension of Diane," Quinn waved a hand. "He doesn't count."
"I'll tell him you said that."
Quinn turned their head to survey Hope calmly. "Mari," they said using a nickname that Hope was sure was going to stick, "you're still looking pale. You need to get more sun."
That made Hope laugh, even if it was a trifle forced.
"Maybe you should postpone your leaving for another day," Quinn suggested and Hope frowned.
"I'll see how I feel after a nap," she decided, looking down at her notebook and then shoving it into her bag with a sigh.
"What's wrong?" Quinn continued, narrowing their eyes. "You look…confused."
Hope huffed. "I dunno, it's just…the Dean was talking about 'sexual urges' or whatever and…is that something that people honestly experience? It sounded pretty made up."
Quinn sniggered. "That cements it."
"Huh?"
"You're probably somewhere on the asexual spectrum, that's all," Quinn shrugged. "Not really experiencing sexual attraction or wanting to shag George."
"I'm thirteen," Hope replied dubiously, a bit thrown off.
"Some people don't really care about that, keep that in mind," Quinn warned. "Never go anywhere without that knife of yours."
"Which one?" Hope said dryly. "I'm carrying three on me and another in my bag."
Quinn bared their teeth. "Atta girl. Now come with me to my office, I've got your birthday present."
"It's not for another few days," Hope complained, but she still followed. "Gods, please tell me you didn't get me anything outrageous, you totally did, didn't you?"
"Listen, I am allowed to splurge a little on my girlfriend's kid, okay?" Quinn huffed.
"Yeah?" Hope arched an eyebrow. "What're you getting Dean?"
"Art supplies, what'd you get him?"
"New sketchbook," Hope grumbled as she was handed a box. "This feels heavy."
"Well, then I guess you'd better open it."
Hope gave her a sour look, opening the box. The first thing she saw was a flask set in silver with a raven styled into it. "Starting alcoholism a bit early, aren't you?"
"Take a swig," Quinn laughed.
Hope scrutinized them intently for a moment before unscrewing the top and— "Wait, is this pomegranate tea?"
Quinn absolutely cackled as Hope set it aside. "Whoa…is this my basilisk skin?" It shimmered that dangerous green; it could be nothing else. She hadn't done much with it since selling most of the corpse to the apothecary in Diagon Alley. It'd just been sitting around gathering dust. She lifted it out of the box and stared at it in awe.
It looked like a greener, shinier leather jacket, looking more scaley than any leather jacket she'd ever seen. "Whoa," she said finally, "this is fucking amazing!"
"Took a bit of work, but your mum knows someone very skilled in making clothes from scales," Quinn was totally preening but Hope didn't say anything about, nor about how they'd called Diane her mother, she just threw her arms around her mentor.
"Thanks," Hope said, releasing them. "Its amazing."
Quinn winked their only eye. "Now, babe, do try not to blow yourself up with any new spells, won't you?"
"Fuck you, Quinn," Hope laughed, collecting her things and heading towards the door.
"And come up with a mantra to help your meditation!" they fired back, laughing when Hope flipped them off as they headed off to their next class and Hope headed off to her motorbike, speeding back to her little slice of paradise.
Quinn had talked about a mantra before, it was a good way to focus when you were new to meditation, and they never said what theirs had been, just that it had to be important to the specific person. ("I once knew someone whose mantra was 'I'm one with the Force'" they'd laughed.)
Hope had found one, but she hadn't tried much at meditating since coming to Greece. She was working hard and she didn't have the time for it.
Quinn didn't like that thinking.
"There is always time to meditate," they'd said, giving her a very direct look.
Hope's fingers fumbled through the letters, less imprecise than they'd been the previous day, but sign language gave her more trouble than Greek did; Greek made sense, Greek was as natural as breathing. But sign language was the best way to prepare yourself for hand tuts that spells required.
Her fingers dropped to brush against the cover of the first notebook that Dean had given her to jot into, ironically named 'Nightmare Journal' (he'd gotten her a new one that made her laugh because it bore the title 'Ledger of Perceived Slights' but Hope was determined to only write completed spells in that one). Its pages were ruffled with use and one corner was stained with blood from a few days ago when Hope had actually attempted Letum Ultima, just to see if it worked.
Magic is not to be dicked around with, the Dean had said but Hope had signed the waiver: magic is not unlikely to kill you, and if so, oh well.
Hope had screwed up the spell, so it was on her to fix it; Hope was used to having to fix her problems.
So, she settled on the floor, crossing her legs and breathing in and out deeply.
"Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, the truth," she murmured to herself. "Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, the truth…"
And in a mirror mounted on the wall, a smile flickered where Hope couldn't see it.
"Okay, this is the last one, I promise!" Hope grinned, showing the page to Quinn who gave her an indulgent smile, knowing she was dragging her heels about heading towards Wales -she was already leaving two days later than planned-, where she'd be spending her time until going to the Weasleys and then the Quidditch World Cup. Quinn didn't understand the hype, and Hope didn't either, but she thought everyone else was so excited, she might enjoy it as well. "I'm calling it the Peverell Web. It's a ward that has more than four points to break through, so if you want to get past it, you have to break it down layer by layer!"
Quinn gave her a wry smile. "Did you get a look at Brakebills wards? Is that what inspired this?"
"No, a spiderweb," Hope shrugged. "Why? What do the wards look like?"
Quinn laughed, ruffling Hope's hair. "Don't worry about it, Mari. So, ready to head back home?"
"Never had one," Hope shrugged. "Ready to head north, even though it's nothing like Greece."
"Well, you're not wrong there," Quinn laughed, "Diane says you should come by for lunch at some point, whenever Dean gets back from Seamus', I guess."
Hope didn't say anything for a moment. "It's casual," she shrugged finally, closing her notebook, "whenever you've got time. I've got no plans."
Quinn smiled and opened their mouth but there was a sudden ringing. "Oh, shit! My class!"
Hope laughed. "See you around, Mentor Adiyodi." She bowed in a way that was as polite as it was sarcastic.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you damn brat!"
That only made Hope laugh louder.
Hope hadn't talked much about it but George could read between the lines and figure out that Hope had been taking some sort of classes in Greece, which probably had something to do with her mentor, because he remembered her saying something about Quinn being a professor, but she was done with them now and had been in Wales for the past few days.
Ron had positively raving about the tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and of course Hope and Hermione had to be invited. Ginny was less than thrilled about having two more girls to share her room with, to which Ron offered to share his with Hope, but Mum had put her foot down about that.
"Oh, come on!" Ron had complained. "She's dating George! She's not even my type!"
Fred had laughed while George gave an agreeable hum, but Mum had always been a bit old-fashioned and had turned positively red when Ron had grumbled about Hope and Dean sharing a room without his mum throwing a fit.
George didn't think that Mum liked Diane Thomas very much.
But he also didn't think she was going to like him very much either when he snuck off in the early morning to pick up Hope with his father's Ford Anglia, leaving only a note saying: Gone to pick up Hope, be back later! -George.
The Siren was nowhere near close to its former glory, but Hope had finally chipped the last of the barnacles clinging to its hull and had rid the wood of the mildew that had accumulated during its time hidden away under the castle.
Her muscles had started to ache, so she had sat herself on the bowsprit, balancing on it where it came out of the bow, closing her eyes and began to poke around with her mental defenses.
"Never assume that your mental protections are complete and that they can't be improved upon," Quinn had said seriously. "Nothing is ever perfect, remember that."
And Hope did, looking around her mental labyrinth, looking for cracks to patch and new doors to build, and then Hope paused, because there was always a door that she'd overlooked. It was easy to overlook, though, it was the same color as the others, just with a few cracks and some mold growing from the cracks.
She frowned before seizing the door and opening it.
It was a long-darkened hallway that gave Hope an uneasy feeling.
Then the door slammed shut behind her and she felt even more uneasy. But a little darkness had never frightened Hope. She took a step forward feeling like she was walking across grass on a cold Autumn night.
Whispers all around her echoing in the silence.
"I'm sorry! I tried to fix it but I couldn't!"
"You promised me, Adelaide! You broke your oath! I was stupid to ever love you!"
The voices were so wrought with pain and sorrow that Hope could practically feel it in the air.
"I've done what I can," a pained voice spoke, "I can't stop you but they can."
"I will make sure they never exist," another voice snarled, cold and echoing.
The first laughed. "No matter what you try, you will lose…I've ensured that they remain hidden, far from your sight. The Lost Four. If I die, I will die knowing that one day there will be others, powerful enough to destroy you when I could not."
She took a few more steps forward, seeing a door just beyond reach.
"Morrigan was such a liar," came a ragged whisper, "I should've known better—"
"No god lies, tells half truths perhaps, but we do not lie; we have no need to," the second voice was so achingly familiar but Hope couldn't place it.
"Don't worry," a new voice hissed in her ear, "you won't remember any of this."
She grasped the knob and threw it open.
It was a room that looked like it was blown apart but barren…actually, it looked an awful like what her room in Godric's Hollow had looked like, if it was devoid of possessions…which was…weird.
Because the room felt strange…there was something child-like about it, something unfamiliar and dangerous that made her want to go out the door she'd come through.
Hope walked across the room to grip the opposite door but it wouldn't budge.
Whose room was this?
"There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry."
Hope recognized that voice. Pettigrew's weak and tremulous voice wasn't one you easily forgot, especially when it was the reason you couldn't live with one of your godfathers, the only godfather that had real claim to raising you.
She peered through the blown apart opening in the room to look down on a different room with a blazing fire in a cold fireplace and an armchair facing it as Pettigrew fluttered around nervously.
"Later," said a second voice, high-pitched and easily recognizable as well.
Voldemort.
"Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."
Pettigrew put down the bottle heavily on a nearby table before carefully dragging the heavy armchair forward.
"Where is Nagini?" Voldemort hissed suddenly and Pettigrew twisted his fingers together uncomfortably.
"I — I don't know, My Lord," he said, flinching. "She set out to explore the house, I think..."
"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail," Voldemort's tone brooked no argument. "I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."
Hope frowned slightly. Nagini? Sounded like some kind of animal companion, if you asked her, but there was no way that it was anything less than a snake; he would've considered that to be a shame for someone descended from Slytherin…and if it was a snake, how on earth was consuming its venom going to make him better?
"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"
"A week," Voldemort was unconcerned. "Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."
That didn't make much sense. Why did he even care about the Quidditch World Cup?
"The — the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?" Pettigrew faltered. "Forgive me, but — I do not understand — why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"
"Because, fool," Voldemort snapped, "at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So, we wait."
"Your Lordship is still determined, then?"
"Certainly, I am determined, Wormtail." Pettigrew flinched again and Hope thought it was well-deserved. She wondered what her father would think of his former friend being referred to by his schoolboy nickname by Voldemort; she hoped he would've been furious.
She missed what he said next, but Voldemort didn't.
"Without Hope Potter? I see…"
"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the girl!" Pettigrew stuttered out quickly. "The girl is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard — any witch or wizard — the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while — you know that I can disguise myself most effectively — I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person —"
"I could use another witch," Voldemort agreed in a mild way that reminded Hope uncomfortably of Nath when he was debating a point, "that is true…"
"My Lord, it makes sense," Pettigrew was becoming breathless. "Laying hands on Hope Potter would be so difficult, she is so well protected —"
"Not really," Hope muttered to herself, but no one had nabbed her yet and Hope valued her freedom far too much to bring to attention that she'd actually been kicked out by the Dursleys.
"And so, you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder...perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?" Voldemort was a hard man to fool.
"My Lord! I — I have no wish to leave you, none at all —"
"Do not lie to me!" Voldemort hissed. "I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me..."
Who wouldn't?
"No! My devotion to Your Lordship —" Pettigrew tried to insist but was cut off.
"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?"
"But you seem so much stronger, My Lord —"
"Liar," Voldement seethed. "I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care. Silence!" And Pettigrew certainly fell silent with a flinch. "I have my reasons for using the girl, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other…she has robbed me of more than you can imagine."
That made Hope frown again. Was he talking about his body? It couldn't be with that kind of pain in his voice, but it wasn't as though Hope had done anything else…
"I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the girl, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail — courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath —"
"My Lord, I must speak!" Pettigrew was growing more panicked and twitching fiercely. "All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head — My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I murder —"
Who was Bertha Jorkins?
"If? If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition... Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Hope Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us —"
Hope didn't like that.
"I am a faithful servant," Pettigrew muttered sourly and Hope rolled her eyes.
"Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfill neither requirement," at least Voldemort was smart enough to figure that out.
"I found you," Pettigrew said quickly, more to cover his ass than anything else. "I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins."
"That is true. A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail — though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?"
"I — I thought she might be useful, My Lord —" Pettigrew was cut off again.
"Liar," Hope didn't like how Voldemort's amusement echoed her own. It made her feel violently ill. "However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform..."
"Hey, Hope?"
The voice jarred her so violently that Hope's eyes snapped open on the bowsprit and she yelped as she teetered off it, falling immediately into the shallows.
She lay there for a moment, water lazily flowing around her, befuddled, but then a face appeared above her, concerned.
"You all right?" George asked, before looking up to where she'd been sitting. "Sorry, I didn't think I'd—"
Her legs shot out, knocking his feet out from under him, sending him tumbling into the water. "Haha! Take that, Rebel Scum!"
George was startled for exactly one second and then he was splashing water on her and pinning her down.
Hope laughed loudly, throwing all her weight against her hip to knock him onto his back, still in the shallows so neither of them accidentally drowned.
"Baby," she said with a grin when he turned pink, "fancy meeting you here."
"Yeah," George was choked on his breath, "fancy that. You, um, look good." Her hair was more auburn than red, and her cheeks were dark from the sun, but his hands were on her hips and he could feel the belt strap that held one of her knives to her back, which remained her most attractive quality.
Her eyes gleamed and she leaned forward, catching his hair in her fingers and kissing him hard. George tried to not get dizzy from the feeling but it was hard, because she was moving against him and was so very warm and he wanted to be absolutely swallowed.
When they parted, what seemed like hours later, her lips were red and swollen and he wanted to go back for seconds, but he nuzzled her neck instead. "Missed you," he mumbled into her skin.
"One day," Hope sighed, fingers still in his hair and he liked them there far too much to complain, "we're gonna end up snogging in Greece."
"I'd be fine with that," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the edge of the scar across her throat, grinning when she swallowed thickly.
She leaned back so she could get a look at his face, tracing lightly over his skin, taking in every freckle, the flash of gold in his eyes when the sun glanced across him just right, turning his hair to fire.
"You're staring," he grinned.
"Mm-hm, hubba hubba," she agreed, smirking when he hid his burning cheeks in her chest while she laughed. "Oh, I love you, George Weasley."
He squeezed her hips with a muffled. "Yeah?"
She smiled widely, feeling lighter than she had in a while. "Promise." She kissed the top of his head before blinking. "Wait, what're you doing here?"
She clamored off him so that she could drag him upright before plucking her green-lensed glasses out of the water and straightening.
"Picking you up before Mum tries to go through the floo network to the Dursleys," he said dryly and Hope frowned viciously. He looked down at her hand where he had it grasped in his hand. "New tattoos?"
"Cloaking sigils," Hope grinned widely. "Borrowed from Quinn."
"That's hot," George muttered and her grin broadened, darting forward to kiss his flushed cheek soundly before dragging him by the hand towards the castle that he only realized was there after she pulled him through the gates.
"Okay, wait here! I'll grab my shit!" and then Hope was running off into the castle that George couldn't help but gape at…there were a lot of snakes in the architecture, but that made sense, since it had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin.
Hope must not've bothered to unpack because she was out in a matter of minutes, wringing the excess water from her hair. "Okay, I'm ready to go!" she beamed. "Did you bring the flying car?"
George laughed.
"You ever think Georgie would land a girlfriend?" Charlie asked Bill dubiously while listening to their mother rage about his taking off with the car without hardly a word. For what it was worth, Dad seemed unsurprised and faintly amused.
Bill shrugged. George had never had a 'girl-crazy' phase growing up. He'd always been more interested in potions, that and he'd always been a bit shy. Bill thought he still was, a little, and though Fred had always inspired him to be more outgoing, Bill knew George would always be the quieter, gentler twin. "He seemed really flustered about her when they mirror-called in Egypt last summer."
Charlie was vaguely impressed, startled by a loud roar of delight: "HOPE!" And then Ron was rushing down the stairs and leaping out into the sunlight as a flying car made its way down to skid in the gravel before coming to a halt and an equally delighted face appearing out the passenger window.
"RON!"
She didn't even bother to wait for the car to slowly come to stop, throwing open the door and leaping out with a laugh to throw her arms around their youngest brother while George hopped out the front seat, grimacing at Mum's scowl.
They couldn't hear what Ron and Hope were saying, they were too far away, but then Ginny darted around them to hug her as well.
"Why are you damp?" Ginny asked loudly and Hope laughed.
"Your brother knocked me into the sea."
Fred sniggered while George rolled his eyes. "How was I supposed to know that you'd be so startled that you'd fall in yourself?"
She blew him a kiss. "Love you, baby."
He rolled his eyes again, cheeks significantly pinker.
"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!"
Everyone in the vicinity winced and George might've been cowering slightly against the Ford Anglia in the face of their mother.
"What in Merlin's name were you thinking going off by yourself! You could've been seen! You could've died!"
"That sounds familiar," Hope muttered to Ron who struggled to hide his smirk.
"I wanted to pick up my girlfriend!" George retorted a bit miffed.
"Baby, did you steal your dad's car?" Hope asked him suddenly, eyes gleaming. "Because that's really hot."
George turned red and Fred high-fived Hope, dying of laughter, as he always seemed to be these days.
"That's my brother," Ron pointed out, vaguely annoyed.
"Yup, it sure fucking is," Hope grinned, an arm around his shoulders. "And he's an amazing kisser!"
Ron groaned loudly and George was hiding his face in his hand. "You always do this!" And then he was dragging Hope away with Ginny grinning and taking her bag from her easily. "How was—Oh, yeah, you haven't really met Bill or Charlie, have you?"
Hope Potter slid her green-lensed sunglasses up into her rough auburn ponytail so they could see the vivid green eyes and the lightning scar that was spread across her brow -larger than Bill remembered it being- and another scar straight across her throat. Bill guessed that was why her voice sounded rougher than it had when he'd first seen her in the mirror.
"Hi," she said with a sharp smile, "I'm Hope."
Charlie considered her, with all the earrings in her ears and rings adorning her fingers. Somehow, she didn't line up at all with what he'd been expecting of his kid brother's friend…or his other kid brother's girlfriend. "Charlie," he said finally, "you're dating George?"
Hope bared her teeth, resting her hands on her hips and Charlie realized he hadn't noticed that there was a knife holster at the back of her belt. "Sure am. Why? Got a problem with that?"
"Uh…" Charlie found those disconcerting eyes on him as if daring him to say 'yes'.
"No," Bill said smoothly, saving face for Charlie, "hello, Hope, nice to meet you in person."
Hope's smile was just a trifle warmer as she shook his hand. "Bill. Find any good curses in Egypt?"
"Why?" Bill laughed. "Looking for some new ones?"
Hope shrugged casually. "I made a pretty devastating one last year, but it nearly killed me a few weeks ago so I've gotta make some tweaks." Then she waved and headed inside with Ron, leaving the pair to stare after her in bemusement.
"Gotta wonder about George's taste, though," Charlie muttered and Bill couldn't say he was wrong.
But later that night when George was done getting dressed down by their mother -Dad only stepping in when she'd threatened to keep him from going to the Cup- and they were all sitting together to eat dinner, Bill found himself watching them. Hope and George didn't say much to each other, though Hope hadn't said much all day unless it was to Ron or Ginny or the twins -George had shrugged saying she'd had a lot of trouble getting into contact with a school friend- simply sitting beside each other and undoubtedly holding hands under the table.
"I do have an idea for my birthday, though," Hope was saying to Ron, which was apparently in a few days, "how would you guys feel about sleeping over at my place in Greece? There's a lot of space and its right next to the sea—"
"Um, is that even a question?" Ginny asked immediately. "Can we go right now?"
Hope laughed. "I think we'd have to ask your parents."
"I'm gonna leave that up to Ginny," Ron decided. "She's got the best puppy eyes." Fred and George nodded sagely in agreement.
"Are there going to be adults there?" Mum asked archly.
"I mean, yeah, Quinn's an adult—" Hope snorted.
"I'm not sure she counts—"
"Excuse me?" Hope snapped her head back towards Mum and the look on her face was so offended. Yikes.
"Ooh," Ron muttered into his hand.
Dad cleared his throat, evidently scenting danger. "I think if Quinn doesn't mind watching you all, there's no reason that the children shouldn't be allowed to visit for a day…if Quinn doesn't mind grabbing you lot."
"They don't," Hope said immediately with a wide grin that was a touch too forced. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley."
"Dad, you're the coolest!" Ginny crowed.
"Thanks, Dad!"
Bill allowed himself a private smile as Hope leaned back into her chair, still looking a little annoyed, no matter how pleased she was. George rubbed his fingers into her shoulder and she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. It was sweet, he couldn't deny it. And it was hilarious how red George's face got when Fred let slip that he'd gotten Hope a knife sharpening rock because, apparently, he had a thing for his girlfriend possessing sharp objects.
"Wow!" Ron gazed in awe past the gate that Hope was currently unlocking before making a motion with her hand and resting it palm up on the ground and lifting up a barrier that shimmered blue, allowing them all to duck under it to get inside. "This is amazing!"
It was a hard thing to get used to, to start with, the fact that his best mate had so much money. It had been something Ron really didn't like to bring attention to, his own family's money compared to Hope's. Malfoy had been the one to bring it up to goad the pair of them and Hope had been downright icy when she'd said "Family or money, I know which one I'd pick."
So, Ron took a deep breath and accepted it.
"Well, someone was renovating it," Hope admitted, just a bit flustered, "I'm still working on tweaking the wards, they're not the best…"
George kissed her cheek as they all spread out to investigate.
"The kitchen's my favorite," Hope admitted with a laugh, "want to go for a swim?"
"Uh, absolutely," Ron laughed.
And a few hours later found them with Ron and Ginny lazing around in the shallows, basking in the sun while Hope showed Fred and George her journal under the shade of an umbrella.
"Okay, what about this one? Letum Ultima?" Fred read out the words.
"If you wanna die," Hope snorted. "I tried it a few weeks ago and I ended up vomiting my weight in blood, you'd need god-level power for it to work, anyways…but this one I'll give you." She ripped out a page and handed it George.
"Why?" he asked. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing wrong with it, I just can't get it to work right," Hope admitted, frowning slightly. "It's supposed to be a daydream spell, but I figure that'd be something you two could make and market for your store."
"Hope, I'm saying this seriously, you are the best person I've ever met," Fred said seriously, grasping her cheeks and kissing her brow. "Leave George for me."
Hope howled with laughter, falling off her beach chair and George gave his twin a sour look. "You're the worst, Gred."
"Why, thank you, Forge!"
Hope kissed George. "I know something that'll cheer you up."
"A snog?" he asked mutinously, making Fred snigger and Hope roll her eyes as she stood, tugging him after her across the beach to the steps that led back up to the main house, leading him down the hall on the main level. "Where're we going?"
Hope grinned. "Shut your eyes, baby, and no peaking!"
"You know, I'm still not sure how much I like 'baby'," George muttered as he complied, jumping and swallowing thickly when Hope pressed a sound kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Liar," she breathed. "You love it." She grinned against him and he knew she could see the flush in his cheeks. "Okay, open!"
George blinked a few times, looking around and taking everything in. It was like Snape's potions classroom, but warmer and full of anything George could possibly want. There were shelves upon shelves of potion ingredients, anything as common as billywig parts, knotgrass, and fluxweed to ingredients that were more expensive, like moondew, hemlock essence, pearl dust, and—
"Venomous Tentacula seeds?" George gaped, grabbing the full jar and staring at her. "It's not—is it really?"
Hope laughed.
"That's a C-class Non-tradable Substance!" George was still goggling at her. "How did you get your hands on it?"
Hope gave him a wink for good measure. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."
For a moment he stood there, staring at her like she was something else before going back to investigating. There were books on the shelves too. The usual ones like: Magical Drafts and Potions, Advanced Potion-Making, the Potion Opuscule, and Asiatic Anti-Venoms. And then there were rarer books like: Moste Potente Potions, the Book of Potions (a copy which Hope had gotten for George the previous year), and Potions, Poisons, and Philters for the Ages.
There were a few copper cauldrons tucked away, a few silver knives lying about, a mortar and pestle next to some scales, with a few stoppered potions in a shuttered cabinet.
"This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," George said finally and Hope laughed.
"I figure you and Fred can use this place to work on stuff, especially since your mum's not a fan—" and he turned to look at her. The sunlight shining through the window catching on her auburn hair and making her eyes shine. Her scars had never been darker, like intricate spiderwebs catching on her brow, thin and sharp at her throat.
"What?" Hope asked, faintly confused.
And George approached her, his fingers sinking into her hair as he kissed her deeply, swallowing her surprise. Hope's eyes slid closed and she wound an arm across his shoulders, pulling herself as high as she would go on her tip toes, mouth sliding open under his.
When they broke apart, Hope was flushed, her mouth tingling, her hair tangled and was absolutely breathless.
"That was nice," she grinned against his jaw, as high as she was willing to reach. "You could stand to do it more."
"Yeah?" George's ears were red and his hair was in complete disarray. "What will your godfather say?"
Hope smirked. Nath liked George but Sirius did not and that was on him. "Fuck 'im."
George's laughter was bright and golden.
They'd fallen asleep in a pile and Quinn, evidently wanting to prove that they'd kept an eye on them the whole time, had thrown a blanket over the five slumbering children, just to say that they'd been there before moving on, but it was still early when Hope awoke, pulling herself gingerly from between George and Ron to frown up the stairs, because she could've sworn there had been something there only a moment ago.
Hope took the stairs silently, seeing a raven fluttering there, like her Patronus, going right through the door as though it wasn't there.
She frowned, turning the nob to enter the room and staring. The raven was hovering in the air, making eye contact and giving a single 'caw!' before flying through Hope's mirror mounted on the wall, the mirror rippling as though it was the surface of a pool, before solidifying once more.
"Wait!" Hope's hand collided with the mirror but she couldn't make it through.
It was just a mirror.
Hope huffed in annoyance. Mirror Lady and her mirrors, because obviously, who else could it be? For a moment she stood there, her hand on the mirror, trying to look through it, as she often had as a child, but there was nothing…just a fourteen-year-old who was barely a witch, barely a magician, and wondering if she was something else entirely.
She withdrew her hand to turn and look at her bed, surprised by the assortment of gifts laying there. Nath had been the one to get her the Hobbit, a copy that was now so battered from use, and clearly, he was following the theme, gifting her the complete trilogy of Lord of the Rings.
For the adventurer who needs no magic to find her place in the world, he'd written on a small card and Hope couldn't help but smile.
Sirius' had no note, but he didn't strike her as a man well known for his letters. It was an arm holster for a wand with a hippogriff feather tucked inside, and Hope might not like wands or wand magic as much as other branches of magic, but it was still a nice gift from a godfather to his goddaughter.
The third one had a letter with curling script that spelled out 'Dear Heart' and Hope beamed, breaking the seal immediately.
'One day you and I will be able to sit and talk with one another like you've always dreamed, dear heart, but for now, I hope you'll settle for a simple compass that will always point you in the direction you need to go.'
Hope lifted it up, opening it and watching the dial twirl around before pointing to the west and Hope following it out to the pile of kids still fast asleep, and she smiled impossibly wide as it pointed to where George lay.
So, she took it in hand and settled back into the space she'd left, sinking into George's side like she belonged there and trying not to feel like something was missing.
"You know I can tell when you're faking a smile, right?" Ron asked her archly from where he was cleaning his room. And honestly, how unfair was it that he had to clean it but Fred and George didn't have to even though they were all bunking together while Bill and Charlie were staying there. "What's going on? Is it…Padfoot?"
Hope frowned from where she was sitting on top of George's cot, jotting down a painful spell to separate the bones in the spine, if she was feeling like being an asshole. Hermione would call it barbaric, but Hope called it therapeutic, getting everything out in a healthier way than going out and testing it out on someone breathing. "He's not exactly a talkative guy…no, I'm just…in a depressive rut."
Ron straightened a bunch of comics to turn around and look at her. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked, completely earnest. He remembered how she'd been in second year…like she'd been seconds away from fracturing. That year had been absolutely foul, even for Ron…and everyone had been downright awful to Hope and the teachers had hardly helped at all. He knew that she took something muggle for what she called 'clinical depression' which Hermione had explained was a medical condition that couldn't really be fixed with magic…but it didn't stop her from getting into ruts.
Hope held something out to him and he took it, frowning. It was an article from the Daily Prophet, an old one, from back when You-Know-Who was just defeated.
"Bartemius Crouch Sr.," he read out, "what—Percy's boss?"
Hope nodded.
Ron continued to read, and then he sat down heavily beside her. "Hope," he said finally, "what happened with Dumbledore at the end of term?" He remembered her being absolutely furious, silently furious, as she always seemed to be, completely ignoring him during the End of Term Feast, eyes a cold black.
Hope sighed heavily, looking down at her equations. "Diane gave me a file for Christmas last year, she told me to only open it when I was ready…I honestly forgot about it until the end of term, but…" She ducked out of the room briefly and when she came back moments later, it was to hand him a thick envelope.
Ron took it silently, reading the contents carefully and she watched as his frown deepened into a scowl. "I'd hate him too," he said finally, handing it all back. "I do hate him…you didn't deserve any of that to happen to you."
She blinked a few times. "Thanks." She hadn't actually done back to the Dursleys since the last summer. After Marge's death, Vernon had made it clear she wasn't welcome in their home. Just because Hope had a habit of predicting death didn't mean she was the one causing it, but that had never mattered to him, or to Petunia.
Honestly, Ron couldn't imagine growing up like Hope had, with more bruises and broken bones than he could count.
"George is good for you," he told her finally, "he treats you like you're the only thing he sees…and you deserve something like that."
Hope scrubbed at her eyes quickly. "Thanks, Ron," she whispered roughly.
"What'm here for," Ron promised with a grin, but they both jolted suddenly when the door opened. "Mum! Geez! Would knocking kill you?!"
"Oh, like the pair of you are doing something that needs a knock," Mrs. Weasley said before abruptly narrowing her eyes.
"We're having a private conversation!" Ron sputtered angrily while Hope blinked in incomprehension.
Mrs. Weasley ignored that. "I'm just bringing you all your books for the next term and—"
"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," Ron said suddenly and Hope closed her journal, replacing the papers in her envelope before lifting her eyes to stare at the robes Ron was holding. It was a sort of maroon velvet, trimmed with some suspicious-looking lace at the neck and sleeves, not the kind of thing Ron would want to be caught dead in; Ron looked better in blue anyways.
"Of course, I haven't," Mrs. Weasley waved him off. "That's for you. Dress robes."
"What?" Ron gaped, sharing a startled look with Hope.
"Dress robes!" she had to repeat. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year...robes for formal occasions."
"You've got to be kidding," Ron was still looking at the material in his hand in horror. "I'm not wearing that, no way."
"Everyone wears them, Ron!" Mrs. Weasley replied, fairly peeved. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"
"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly and Hope sniggered.
"Don't be so silly! You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got a dress for Hope, too!"
Hope's amusement died immediately. "A dress?" she repeated. "No, I can't wear a dress."
It looked like a nice dress, if someone was into that, Hope supposed. It was a long and heavy green with green lace sleeves, but it made Hope's stomach curl. The idea of wearing a dress or a skirt…made her want to vomit. It just reminded her of Petunia and every teacher at her old school. Give Hope shirts and trousers any day.
"I'm sorry, dear, but it's a requirement," Mrs. Weasley was as exasperated with Hope as she was with her own son.
"I'll wear a suit, then," Hope replied miffed.
"Those are for men," Mrs. Weasley insisted aggrieved. "Specifically, men who are muggles!"
Hope opened her mouth to furiously before locking her jaw furiously and going back to her journal, pointedly ignoring Mrs. Weasley until she left and Ron couldn't help but sigh.
"What's wrong? You've been off all night and I don't think it has anything to do with Mum…not totally."
It was the night before they were supposed to leave to go to the Quidditch World Cup and Hope couldn't sleep. She lifted her eyes from where she was staring out into the darkness, watching the shadows under the moon to meet George's concerned ones. "Sorry," she sighed, "it's just…I don't do great in crowds."
Which was true. People swarming around her made her feel like a fly caught in a spider web, just waiting for death or a punch, at the very least. But it wasn't the only thing on her mind. Mirror Lady had been quiet lately and Hope's dreams…terrifying. The Blood-Soaked Tree wasn't the only thing cropping up now… "It's probably all the magic," Hope muttered to herself.
"What's all the magic?" George asked.
"There's a lot of magic in your house," she muttered, more to herself. Kingsley and the Dean's house had magic, but it was a house that belonged to a magician and his wizard husband, it had felt more natural…the Burrow felt like someone had sprayed too much perfume and it was lingering in the air and Hope was fucking allergic, that's how it felt.
She'd noticed it when she was twelve, but Hope was used to being uncomfortable, so she'd just pushed it aside…but there'd been so much magic today that she'd felt like she was drowning. Mrs. Weasley used magic for absolutely everything, which Hope didn't understand…it was possible to cook without using it, Hope honestly preferred it that way.
"Is that bad?" George's curious voice cut through her musings.
"No, I just…there's no need to use it for everything," Hope finally managed with a bit of frustration. "Magic should have limits, most magic has limits and wand-magic is just—" She gave a frustrated huff, pressing a hand to her brow, tracing over where Rookwood's spell had carved new fractals into her skin. "It doesn't matter, it's…whatever."
"Hope," George said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently, "did something happen in Greece?"
She dropped her hand to feel the comfortable hilt of the knife belted to her back. "Something happened," she agreed finally, "I just found something out about myself that I wish I hadn't."
"Something you're ready to share?" George asked and Hope remembered Ron telling her about his mother's second cousin, someone in the family that didn't have magic but that they didn't speak about or to.
Hope's heart sank.
"No," she said finally, "I need to work it out on my own."
"Well, just so you know, I'm a great listener." George winked and Hope laughed loudly, leaning up to kiss him lightly, unaware of eyes in the distance watching her carefully.
Hope waited until everyone had gone to sleep before closing her eyes and casting her mind inward. George had interrupted her the last time she'd meditated, but that wasn't really his fault, and it wasn't the reason she was sitting on her makeshift bed in Ginny's room, breathing in and out deeply, centering herself with the faintest murmur of her mantra.
But when she opened her eyes, she wasn't in her mind labyrinth, or even Quinn's room as Brakebills, full of crystals and heavy curtains…she was on the ground, surrounded by fog.
Hope sat up, looking around herself in confusion. "Hello?" she called before muttering to herself, "yeah, great idea, call out when you don't even know where the fuck you are, that's smart."
There was an answering chuckle and Hope twisted around violently, but there was nothing there. Hope scrutinized the thick fog.
"You seem to be lost in the fog, dear heart," came the voice Hope knew so well. "Perhaps I can be an ear to the struggles you bury down deep."
Hope faltered.
"You shouldn't bear all your burdens alone, dear heart," Mirror Lady's voice was gentle and unwaveringly kind and Hope's eyes pricked remembering the countless days and nights she'd thought Mirror Lady was her own mother. "I am listening with an open heart and an open mind."
Hope sighed and sat again. "I've never been very good at wand magic, I've had to work harder than everyone else on even the simplest spells and it took me weeks upon weeks to even get the Patronus charm to work…and then I go to Brakebills and everything makes sense, but I find out I have a limited amount of magic to use because I wasn't born with it…because someone put it inside me…and I just, I don't know what to do."
"Do you hate magic?" Mirror Lady asked.
"…no," Hope said finally, "but I don't really like it either…it's just kinda…there, you know. If I didn't go to Hogwarts, I wouldn't've met Dean or Hermione and Ron or George…but I still feel like a fraud."
"None of that is your fault," Mirror Lady explained patiently. "You were put through a specific and dangerous ritual when you were a baby, but some people gain magic that way."
"Not here," Hope muttered. "I feel…like an outcast even when I'm with my friends. I don't want to be a specific piece on a chess board that I can't even see, I just want to be me."
"And what exactly is Hope Marina Peverell?" Out of nowhere, the Mirror of Erised materialized before her and Hope didn't see what she'd seen before.
This time she saw a grown woman with Hope's olive cheeks, eyes as dark as Nath's and hair pure white as though it had been shocked that way. She was scarred and her lips twisted into a smirk as one hand held a crossbow of some kind and the twisted in the air, doing one-handed poppers that only a master Magician should do, causing magic, bright and blue to ripple around her as she faded into the shadows.
"I don't know," she said finally, staring at the woman in the mirror in awe. She was the kind of warrior that Hope would've wanted to shield her from the Dursleys when she hadn't built enough of a thick skin.
"It's okay if you don't know who you are, dear heart," Hope could practically hear the smile. "Discovering who you are is part of the adventure."
Hope frowned deeply. "This doesn't sound like a fun adventure."
"Hm," Mirror Lady hummed. "Perhaps not, but it's one we all must take."
"Hope, wake up!"
Hope blinked her eyes open to see Hermione scrutinizing her intently.
"Did you get any rest at all?" Hermione asked her, concerned.
Hope blinked a few times before shrugging. "Maybe." She wasn't too concerned about it, but it made Hermione frown, even as she dressed quickly and silently, looping the raven-key necklace George had gotten her the previous year around her neck. "When did you get here?"
"Just now," Hermione said, looking like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she didn't. "Mrs. Weasley's got breakfast ready."
Hope descended the winding staircase two steps at a time and grabbed the first roll that she saw, but she had to stop mid-chew to stare at Mr. Weasley, because he looked like he had been dressed by a color confused person. He was wearing a worn golf sweater with a very shabby pair of jeans that were a little too big for a man of his size. Hope arched an eyebrow, swallowing thickly.
"What exactly are you wearing, Mr. Weasley?" she managed to ask.
Mr. Weasley rubbed his hands nervously over the front of his sweater. "Is it too bad? We're supposed to go incognito– do I look like a Muggle?"
Hope nodded with a contemplative smile. "Yeah, you look pretty good. I'd be more worried about what you say, though."
"I'll be extra careful," Mr. Weasley promised, looking uncharacteristically serious as his sons stumbled into view.
"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" George asked between a yawn, almost running into Hope who had to steady him with an arm around his waist.
"You all right?" she asked in a bit of concern.
"Mm, just tired," George said, rubbing at his eyes as he practically fell into an empty seat at the table. "What about you?" Hope ran her hands through her hair, noting the black color with a frown before tangling it up into a high bun on the top of her head.
"I'll live," she said unconcerned, but she was always unconcerned about her life. It was the one thing about her he didn't like.
But he still leaned over to press a kiss to the edge of the scar on her neck and she swallowed thickly, turning pink and then red when he pulled back, shifting her eyes from his grin. Fred sniggered beside him.
"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" Mrs. Weasley said, answering George's question as she slid a bowl of porridge in front of each of her nearly-asleep sons, giving George, in particular, a reproachful glance. "So, they can have a bit of a lie-in."
"It's slightly noisier and less dangerous than Flashing," Ron told her, a bit more lucid now that he had something in his stomach, noticing the confusion on her face.
Hope hummed, rubbing at her arm where the grounding sigil was tattooed. She was still working on a different way to travel instantaneously, but one that would actually work with the sigil still in place. Mirror Bridges was an interesting concept but you needed a mirror on both ends. Quinn had rolled their eye and sniggered "What are you going to do? Rip a hole in space and time?" and honestly that was an interesting idea…
"So, they're still in bed?" Fred complained. "Why can't we Apparate too?"
"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley as she disappeared upstairs.
"Why do you need to pass a test to Apparate?" Hope asked befuddled. Quinn hadn't had to to Travel, but there weren't that many Travelers to begin with. Traveling was a very specific skill and you couldn't learn it by any means. "Shouldn't practice make perfect?"
"Because Apparition isn't easy," Mr. Weasley said, placing the tickets into his pocket. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. When it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."
"Splinched?" Hope asked, not understanding the term but assuming the worst at the winces from those that were sitting at the table.
"That's when you leave part of yourself behind when you Apparate," Mr. Weasley explained, bringing the treacle closer to himself. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind..."
"That doesn't sound pleasant," Hope said, "does it hurt?"
"Very rarely," he assured her, "this couple only got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition."
Didn't sound like something she wanted to, to be honest. "I'll keep it in mind," Hope said with that in mind as Ginny finally descended the stairs, still rubbing at her eyes.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" she complained.
"We've got a bit of a walk."
"Wait," Hope said, frowning, "is the World Cup that close?"
"No, no, that's miles away," Mr. Weasley disagreed, smiling easily. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup...is everyone ready?"
There were a few grunts of assent as they all stood up, only to jump at Mrs. Weasley's sudden voice. "George!"
"What?" He said in a would-be-guiltless tone.
"What's that in your pocket?" She demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Nothing!" George insisted.
"Don't you lie to me!" She warned, and then she went so far as to pull out her wand and point it at George's pockets. "Accio!"
Her instincts turned out to be right as a number of small brightly colored candy-sized packages soared out of his pockets and into Mrs. Weasley's hands, despite George's attempts to snatch them out of the air. "Hey!"
"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley, her anger quite apparent, as Hope cupped her forehead in her hand. She had heard from Fred and George that their mother wasn't as…pleased with their choice of a future career, but Hope couldn't find anything wrong with it. She couldn't see either of the twins spending their lives working for the Ministry, that would probably bore them to bits.
She shot a look to Fred as if to say "Seriously?"
He shrugged and rolled his eyes, true annoyance obvious on his face.
"We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, but Hope had the feeling that 'We' was just Mrs. Weasley. "Accio! Accio! Accio!"
This time her wand was directed at both Fred and George, and Hope winced as the Ton-Tongue Toffees flew into the air from their pockets and linings of their clothes. Hope couldn't help but be silently impressed by the number of secret hiding places they had come up with for their merchandise. Hope's mouth dropped open when Mrs. Weasley threw away the toffees and she couldn't help but feel insulted on George's behalf that she would actually do that, toss out the twins' hard work as if it wasn't worth anything.
"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted in genuine anger. Hope had to say that was possibly the first time that she had ever seen him quite so mad.
"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" she responded in a shrill voice. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"
"Hey!" Hope snapped, stepping between mother and sons, both parties which looked quite ready to explode. "Why don't we call it a day and just get going before someone says something they might regret, all right?"
George's jaw worked furiously. "Whatever you say, love," he said icily, still glowering at his mother as Hope picked up her bag for George to grab her hand tightly. He didn't look from glaring at his mother, who glowered back even as she kissed her husband goodbye. Hope had to hold onto her bag tightly as he all but dragged her out house in his haste to get away from his mother who called after them, "Well, have a lovely time, and behave yourselves."
They were about fifty paces away when Hope cleared her throat. "Well, it's a good thing she didn't try to search me…" George had convinced her to hide a few Weasley Wizard Wheezes amongst her things, knowing that his mother wouldn't go through her things because she generally had a positive disposition towards Hope. "Why is she still throwing such a fit?"
Fred gave a despairing sigh. "Because she's Mum, that's why. She doesn't need a reason. She didn't approve of Bill or Charlie's lines of work either, they're much too dangerous."
"Danger is what makes life a little fun," Hope said, squeezing George's hand which had thankfully loosened since they had left the house or she was afraid that she might have broken something. "I think you'll make a great business out of prank items, and I'm not just saying that because I'm in love with George," she added, making a pleased flush erupt on said boy's cheeks and a smirk appear on Fred's lips. "I'm saying that because it's the honest truth. You two could really make it work and one day she'll see it too."
Fred gave her a true smile, the first since his mother had taken away all of his and George's hard work. "If I wasn't afraid of how hard George would hit me, I would kiss you."
"Oh, Freddie, we shouldn't let George get in the way of true love!"
Fred laughed loudly and George rolled his eyes at their antics. "Good point—"
George pushed his brother away to throw an arm around Hope's shoulder, using his fingers to turn her smirking mouth towards his. "You think you're real cute, don't you?"
"Sure do, baby," Hope barely breathed before his lips met hers. "Want to love me more?" she asked when they parted.
"For what?" George grinned.
Hope withdrew a few Ton-Tongue Toffees that Mrs. Weasley had thrown away but she had rescued when her back was turned.
She tossed them over to Fred who caught them easily while George stared in awe. "You're something else, you know that?"
And her cheeks flushed at the compliment.
George didn't like Amos Diggory, especially at how rude he had been about his son supposedly beating Hope in that Quidditch match that the dementors had swarmed onto the field. Hope didn't seem too fazed, though, undoubtedly used to people bringing up her disappointments, turning instead to George to say loudly, "Georgie, did I tell you about that ship I found?"
(He didn't notice how she'd paled slightly at the sight of Cedric)
She had, but George didn't mind hearing it again, even as Cedric tossed an apologetic look their way. She wouldn't look at him; she was refusing to. "Yeah, it was Nelda's ship, right? Salazar Slytherin's daughter?"
Several people shot them looks, but Hope smiled easily at him. "Sure was! Diane thinks it'll be a good project for me, working on it…but I think that's just her way of keeping me from attempting dangerous magic." Hope hadn't told Diane about attempting the Letum Ultima, but Quinn had and Diane hadn't been impressed and knew Hope well enough to know she would try again.
George arched an eyebrow and Hope grinned sheepishly. "Well, she's not totally wrong to think that," she grumbled to herself and George laughed, pressing a kiss to her brow, knowing there was something more going on.
"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley said. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"No," Mr. Diggory assured him, sounding a little relieved, "the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of," Mr. Weasley said, nodding his head in agreement. "Yes, it's a minute off ... We'd better get ready..." He turned towards Hermione and Hope who were the only ones of the very large group that had never dealt with a portkey. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do—"
"What's he talking about?" Hope muttered to George, but he didn't have time to answer her as they were running low on time and within moments the group had crowded around a manky old boot in the middle of the field.
Hope and Hermione, though thoroughly confused, did as the others did and pressed a finger to the boot. The look Hermione gave her told her: "Am I the only one who thinks this is very strange?"
Hope merely rolled her eyes, her lips quirking slightly upwards.
"Three…two…one…"
Hope almost lost her grip as something tugged her around the middle as the boot shot into the air taking the nine wizard-folk far away from Ottery St. Catchpole to travel miles upon miles away only for her to slam into the ground once they reached their destination in a matter of seconds.
Hope groaned, her voice muffled in the grass. "This is the worst possible way to travel." But she still pulled herself up and into an upright position as a clear voice said: "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."
Hope blinked a few times, her vision still a little blurry from the speed that they had been moving at, to stare at the field which had suddenly shifted at a moor that was covered in a light mist that could be easily seen through. And then she had to stifle her laughter with Hermione at the three wizards that had met them, because their attempts to blend in with Muggles had left them hopelessly mismatched. It was as if they had been dressed by a child.
Mr. Weasley spoke to the one that was wearing a rather loose kilt paired horribly with a poncho. "Morning, Basil."
The man said nothing for a moment, taking that time to receive the boot that they had used a Portkey and toss it into a box with a number of miscellaneous items that must have been Portkeys as well.
"Hello there, Arthur," the man named Basil said, his voice matching his face in tiredness. Hope had to wonder how early the man had been up because he looked to be on the brink of falling asleep where he stood. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night... You'd better get out of the way; we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite...Weasley...Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts." He glanced to Mr. Diggory and his son before looking at the parchment once more. "Diggory...second field...ask for Mr. Payne."
So, the Weasleys set off in the direction that Basil had said and Hermione piped up, "Er, Mr. Weasley, is the site manager a Muggle or a wizard?"
"Oh, he's a Muggle," Mr. Weasley said with a fond smile.
"Then perhaps Hope and I should do the talking," she offered, knowing how prone the man was to slip up around Muggles because of he often was around her own parents. He wasn't very subtle, to say the least.
"You're probably right," Mr. Weasley agreed, his ears burning a light shade of red as Hope took the money from him, "The tent are under Weasley, they were only booked a few days ago."
"Right-o," Hope said, screwing her eyes a little so that her hair darkened to the same color as Hermione with slightly more controlled curls and eyes the exact shade of brown as her friend's. Hermione grinned as it appeared as though they were siblings.
"Shall we, sister?" Hope asked with a quirked eyebrow as she offered her elbow.
Hermione beamed. "We shall." They ignored the laughter that echoed behind them as they yanked Ginny along for the ride despite her protests as they strode up to a middle-aged man who was standing at a table that had a number of papers being held down by some heavy rocks so they wouldn't blow away in the wind.
"Morning!" Hermione called to him as they came to a stop in front of him.
"Morning," the man said, failing to hide a yawn, looking as tired as the three clothing-confused wizards from before.
"Are you Roberts?" Hope asked, as forward as ever.
Mr. Roberts looked up in surprise to see that it was a trio of girls asking the questions. Two looked remarkably similar, sisters no doubt, but the third couldn't be more different with her ginger hair. "That's me," he said, "may I help you ladies?"
"We're here for a tent booked under Weasley," Hope said, pulling the money from her pocket, "how much do we owe you?"
Mr. Roberts glanced behind, possibly trying to ascertain where her parents were with her.
Hope cleared her throat. "My sister and I are here with my cousin's family," she said, nodding towards Ginny, hoping that would clear it up, "now, how much do we owe you?"
Mr. Roberts quoted the price still staring at her as if she was the strangest thing he had seen and Hope was quick to hand over the appropriate notes to the Muggle who quickly avoided her eyes as he took the money and went searching for some change. She knew that people said she had intense eyes, but still…
"Never been this crowded," Mr. Roberts said, glancing behind him where Hope, Hermione, and Ginny could see hundreds of tents already set up. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up... People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdoes, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."
"Is he not supposed to?" Ginny asked, a little flummoxed. Hope could tell that Muggle fashion was still rather strange to her.
"It's like some sort of...I dunno...like some sort of rally," he said, still lost in thought. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."
None of the three had any time to come up with an appropriate response to that when a loud crack echoed through the air as a wizard appeared rather suddenly, no doubt through Apparition.
"Obliviate!" the man said, pointing his wand at the Muggle, making a blank and dreamy expression appear on the man's face, reminding Ginny of her friend Luna a little too much.
Both Hope and Hermione couldn't help but scowl fiercely at the man. Both girls had rather bad experiences with memory modification. Hope's was mainly because Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to erase her memories back in second year, but had unfortunately missed, due to Ron's wand backfiring on him instead, while Hermione's was just because Lockhart had used his memory charms as a way to steal other witches and wizards work and sell it as his own, which was practically the death sentence in Hermione's eyes.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said, his voice soft and calm, seeming to be in a bit of a day dream. "And your change."
"Thank you…" Hermione said, feeling a little disjointed.
"Come on," Hope tugged on her arm, the disapproval clear on her face as the three walked back to the group.
"Hey, guys!"
Hope, Hermione, and Ron had gone off to get some water and Hope blinked as a boy decked in green approached them. "Oh, hey, Seamus."
Seamus grinned, displaying his country's colors proudly before holding out a book to Hope. "This is for you."
Hope took it, a bit bemused. "What's this?"
"The reason Dean's been radio-silence all summer, I'm guessing," Seamus shrugged, eyes gleaming. "He's kinda been a coward about when and how to give it to you."
Hope looked down at the cover with a simple raven sketched with wings outstretched. She opened it silently with her friends at her shoulders, swallowing thickly at the pictures Dean had carefully, studiously drawn. So many pieces of her life...Nath reading to her while she lay in the hospital bed; Nath teaching a determined child how to shoot, bruised and broken as she was; meeting Quinn and Diane; George catching her as she fell through the air; Hope, Hermione, and Ron with their arms around each other beaming; Dean and Hope falling asleep together watching Star Wars; Dean grinning at her side; Hope meditating with Quinn, an eye open; Hope sleeping next to Nath in the hospital with Dean passed out in an uncomfortable chair;...and one Hope didn't know. Dean kneeling on the ground, his sketchbook and pencil in hand, tongue sticking out while someone stood behind him, back to his back. A girl with snakeskin jacket and a black knife in one hand, tilting her head over her shoulder to throw a determined stare with a smirk.
Was that how Dean saw her? Someone he trusted to cover his undefended back with weapons in the stead of magic?
At the bottom of the page was a title unlike the others: Brother's Keeper.
Hope didn't realize she'd started crying until her eyesight became blurry.
"Is it all right if I call you my brother?"
"Oh, crap! Sorry, Hope! I just, um, well—"
Hope glared at Dean furiously, having to lean her head back because he'd grown yet again. "You utter bastard!" she snarled and Dean recoiled sharply only for her to throw her arms around him, her shoulders shaking. "You're the worst brother I'll ever have!" she muffled into his chest.
And Dean relaxed, wrapping his arms around her, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. "Did you get shorter?" he asked instead, making Ron snigger and Hermione sigh in amusement as Hope pulled back to wipe at her eyes.
"Just because you can grow a foot in a few months doesn't mean we all can," Hope retorted, miffed, eyes black where they weren't red. Dean thought it suited her more than the green.
Dean smiled. "Love you too."
And her smile made it worth it.
"You've been ages."
Hope jumped violently at the sound of George's voice, almost losing her grip on her saucepan full of water and the photo album of sketches that Dean had given her.
"Sorry," George said quickly, taking the water from her with a wink, "let me help before you spill the rest of your water."
Hope crooked a finger at him. "Come back here, baby," she said sweetly, "so I can kick your ass."
"I'd love to oblige—"
"You've not got that fire started yet?" Ron asked, ignoring his brother and his best mate as best as he could.
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred with a snort.
They all turned to stare at Mr. Weasley where he was standing inside a circle of matches, saying "Oops!" every time he managed to light a match only to drop it.
Hermione sighed. "I'll handle this," she said striding over to the man and showing him how to light a match without dropping it.
"What do you think of the tent?" Fred asked his twin's girlfriend, noting how she was still gazing around at it in wonder.
"It's very impressive," she said, arching her neck back in an attempt to see it all completely. The drapes were gold and silver hanging loosely against the walls, there was a small sitting room with worn sofas as well as a small dining room. The bedroom towards the back had bunk beds and had been claimed by the girls, while the bedroom off to the side had been forced upon the boys, to the girls' mirth. "I've never seen anything like it…well, not including my trunk, I guess." She dug out the small pocket mirror that Angelina had given her the last year for her birthday and handed it over to Fred who blinked and stared.
"Er-I don't—"
"It's so you can talk to Angelina," Hope said, rolling her eyes, "believe me, you don't need a mirror." She tossed it to him and he struggled to catch it, but the smile on his face made it worth it as he moved towards the semi-privacy of the boys' bedroom.
"Thanks for that," George whispered into her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist, his hand cupping her hip.
Hope shrugged her shoulders, bumping slightly against his chest as she did so. "I missed you when I was in Greece, and Angie definitely feels the same way about Fred." Of course, Hope and George didn't need nearly as much constant validation to keep their relationship strong.
"Definitely?" George asked with a grin.
Hope twisted slightly so she could tangle her fingers into her hair, smiling sweetly. "It must be that infamous Weasley charm."
"Must be…" George murmured, bending his head to brush his lips lightly against hers, parting quickly as Ginny moved past, throwing Hope a significant glance as she did so.
"Or it might be because you are very attractive," Hope added with a saucy wink, leaning upwards to kiss him firmly for a few seconds before parting completely from him. "Maybe we should save this until we get to school and have some privacy."
George gave a low groan of disappointment, making her flush a pale pink as she rejoined her friends where they were out with Mr. Weasley who was telling them who some of the people were that walked past them and what their job was. It seemed to bore Ron, but Hermione was listening intently.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator –member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker...they're Unspeakables..."
"What're Unspeakables?" Hope asked, hijacking the conversation.
"Oh, they're from the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to," Mr. Weasley said, though it left her a bit confused, even as she watched his eldest three sons meander around tents to reach theirs.
Fred rejoined the group soon after, his cheeks a little pink from his conversation with Angelina, but much happier than he had been when the day had first started out. He handed over the small mirror to Hope.
"Do you mind if I borrow that to talk to her later on?" he asked her, not really expecting her to deny him, but being polite nonetheless.
"Sure," Hope said easily, sparing him a smile, "besides, she'd probably fancy talking to you more than me."
Fred couldn't help but laugh as well. "It's my charm."
"Must be inherited," she commented with an arched eyebrow, nodding towards George. "Oh, and we've decided to tone it down about in your presence so you don't feel too uncomfortable." Not that there was honestly much to tone down.
"It would take a lot to make me uncomfortable, Hope," he said, rolling his eyes, "but thanks anyways."
She tried hard not to smirk at that as Percy, Charlie, and Bill finally reached them.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy, his eyes directed towards his brothers, but while Ron gazed on enviously, George only rolled his eyes. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
"Yeah, you're welcome," Hope added in a cool tone, balancing the plate of eggs and sausage on her hand, "Ginny, Hermione, and I cooked that, so maybe a thank you wouldn't hurt." She cocked an eyebrow at Percy whose ears reddened and he gave a quick apology, to which Hope offered him the plate, sharing a grin with Hermione and Ginny behind his back while Ron stifled his laughter.
"Enjoy," Hope said sweetly and George resisted the urge to flat out kiss her completely in front of his whole family as they all settled down into their lunch, but it seemed as though Hope had hardly eaten two sausages and a spoonful of eggs when Mr. Weasley called out "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo just so happened to be someone known as Ludo Bagman who was apparently an important person in the ministry, being the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and clearly he hadn't gotten the memo of not drawing any attention to the Wizarding folk, because he was wearing rather obvious bright yellow and black robes that depicted a large wasp. He wasn't very impressive to Hope's eyes, but, then, she was being rather biased towards George, as always.
"Ahoy there!" he cried as loped over to them, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically oozing excitement as if he was absorbing to from the surrounding area and people. "Arthur, old man, what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming...and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements...Not much for me to do!"
Hermione tossed Hope an irritated look, and it didn't take much for Hope to guess why. He was saying that there wasn't much for him to do, yet his robes were drawing attention from Muggles and there were frequent and obvious uses of magic going on around that he seemed blind to. A firework had gone off ten minutes ago and had yet to disperse, a few witches had used their wands to create a number of pale doves that were flying perpetually in a circle, and someone had started a magical fire the color of lavender that shot off sparks every few seconds.
"Not very focused, is he?" Hermione muttered in a low voice making Ron roll his eyes in good nature to his friend.
"You think he could catch everything?" Ron said, only slightly defensive.
"No," Hope amended, "but this is flat out ridiculous." She almost missed Mr. Weasley introducing them all, only tuning in at the last second.
"—and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Hope Potter."
Hope was used to the stares and cared for them even less.
"Everyone," Mr. Weasley said, speaking with a bright grin, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets—"
But Bagman just shook off the compliment. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first –I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years –and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."
"Eel Farm?" Hope mouthed to Ron who had to duck to hide his laughter.
"Any takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," Mr. Weasley said, his voice a little nervous, "Molly wouldn't like—"
Apparently counting very quickly, Fred spoke, "We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts that Ireland wins –but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."
Hope actually let out a small laugh at that, unable to restrain herself. Percy may have been channeling his mother's disapproval, but Hope was nowhere near, finding it all quite humorous. You wouldn't catch her gambling, she wasn't much of a gambler to begin with, but Fred and George were planning on opening up a business, so anything helped, and she was all for that.
She didn't like Bagman much, even watching as he took the fake wand from Fred, giving it a quick wave and exploding with laughter as it transformed into a rubber chicken. She wasn't quite sure where they had come up with the idea, but she suspected their father had once taken them to Muggle magic shop because some of their designs seemed to originate from some basic magic tricks she'd seen in store windows as a child.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!" Bagman cried, but Hope couldn't help but hear a false ring in his voice.
Mr. Weasley was both unimpressed and a little worried. "Boys," he said with a soft, almost unperceivable, sigh, "I don't want you betting…That's all your savings…Your mother—"
Would doubtlessly not approve, but when had Fred or George ever followed what she had wanted? They were as much free spirits as Hope was, and that was saying something.
"Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur!" Bagman chided lightly, beaming brighter than the sun. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."
It was only after he had taken their names down in his little notebook and given each twin a slip of parchment for which they could use to collect their riches should their wager actually end up coming true, that he turned his eyes onto Hope Potter.
Of course, everyone knew the tale of the Girl-Who-Lived. Being the only child of a Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House, she was considered nobility, despite having a Muggle-born for a mother (not that Ludo had anything against that, it was just the way the Ancient Houses worked). She certainly didn't look like much and didn't look like she was an heiress, dressed simply, hair tangled up into a high bun, unnerving green eyes fixed on him.
But it was not her appearance that caught him the most, it was her wealth. It was a well-known fact that the Heir Potter owned several vaults through her father's ancient line and the gold was all that Bagman desired.
"And what about you, Miss Potter?"
Her eyes met his and immediately he knew she would not be someone to easily swindle, but he could not resist, she was a gold mine after all. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not enough for the man to notice, but her friends were far too used to her nonverbal cues to not take it into account.
Instead, she merely gave him a disarming smile. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Bagman," she said simply, "I never gamble my money, only my life."
Touché. Bagman had to concede for the time being, perhaps another time he would manage to grab some of that gold he sought from her when she wasn't looking.
"You know, you look rather good in green?" George gave Hope a roguish grin as he watched her tie an Irish scarf around her neck.
She gave him a wry smile. "It's been said."
"Hang on, who's been saying—"
But she only laughed, hardly heard over the loud cheering of the stadium as they sat in their seats waiting for the game to begin. The stadium was awing to the eye, Hope had to admit as she looked about. She had never seen anything quite so big in all of her life; it easily outdid the Quidditch stadium at Hogwarts.
Her eyes fell onto the small house-elf that was sitting with a pair of empty seats beside them. Initially, Hope had mistaken her for Dobby, the house-elf that had formerly belonged to the Malfoy family before she had set it free at the end of her second year. It was understandable, given the androgynous appearances that house-elves tended to have with only slight differences between genders. It was clear from the brief conversation with Winky -her name, as they had found out- that she thought Dobby would have done better if had just stayed with the Malfoys, even with the abuse but Hope couldn't agree. It would be like telling her to stay with the Dursleys after she reached majority. That would be literal hell.
(Not that Hope was staying with them anymore, but that was for the best, if you asked her and not Mrs. Weasley or Dumbledore)
"We can switch seats with Bill and Charlie," George added, noticing how her eyes had fallen on the house-elf.
Hope spared him a smile. "Don't worry about it," she said, "it's just the way that she talked…Dobby wasn't quite like that." They both had to quiet themselves as Bagman pulled his wand free and pointed it to his throat, saying, "Sonorous!"
"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome!" He called over all of them, his voice reverberating around them as it bounced across the stadium. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
Hope cheered with the Weasleys and Hermione, though her cheering was far more enthusiastic than her friend's, but then Hermione had always spent more Quidditch matches worrying about her than actually just enjoying the match.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
Hope peered intently through her Omnioculars as the Bulgarian mascots entered the field and she was surprised to find that their mascots were about a hundred young women.
"Ah, Veela!" she heard Mr. Weasley say off to the side, so that must have been what they were. Hope had never seen anything like them. They were obviously very beautiful, that much Hope could tell quite easily. There was also something very alluring about their appearance in how their white-gold hair was rustled gently by the wind and their skin would shine as if starlight had been brushed onto them. There was something distinctly…unearthly about them.
But it became clear that whatever the Veela were, they had a larger effect on the men rather than the women. Fred and George were both rubbing circles into their foreheads as if they were overcome with an intense headache, and Ron seemed on the verge of standing up, though the dazed expression told Hope he was more confused than anything else.
"Are you all right?" Hope asked with concern, leaning so she could be more easily heard by George as she interlocked their fingers.
He spared her a smile, kissing her cheek fondly. "Don't worry about it," he said, "it's just a dizzy spell."
"All right," Hope conceded, though she could see it clearly wasn't. The faster they danced, the more confused Ron seemed to become until he was actually standing up with a rather flummoxed look on his face.
"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione demanded, taking hold of one of his arms while Hope grabbed the other as they forced him back into his seat amidst laughter from his brothers.
Hope snapped her fingers in front of her eyes, making the lanky boy blink a few times, trying to clear the fog that had covered his eyes.
"Huh?" he said, still muddled. "What happened?"
"Some enchantment, I'm guessing," Hope said in a tone of amusement as the Veela ceased their dancing.
Hermione made a noise of irritation that Hope could hardly hear. "Honestly!" she said as if he was a young child that needed to be closely monitored.
"And now, kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
The next second Hope was blinded by something quite reminiscent of a green and gold comet that burst through to the stadium and then to circle around the stadium before then breaking into two smaller green and gold comets that spun off in opposite directions to encircle the goal posts on each end a few times.
Hope joined in the applause when a rainbow appeared, joining the two together, laughing as it transformed into a massive shamrock that was far larger than anything Hope had ever seen. She was a bit bemused as gold galleons rained down on them from the shamrock, even as Ron forced a few coins into her hand, paying her back for purchasing the Omnioculars for him earlier.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Bagman said, clearing his throat loudly, "kindly welcome- the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you –Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand –Krum!"
One by one, Quidditch players donning the scarlet robes of Bulgaria shot out into the free air, some did a few tricks, one in particular, the Seeker, it must have been, actually flipped his lower body off of the broom, holding on with only his hands. Hope couldn't help but watch in fascination.
"I get the feeling that you're going to want to try that move as soon as possible," George commented dryly beside her.
"Nah," Hope said, tossing her hand carelessly. "I'm reckless enough." It was a bad joke and she knew it, but George didn't say anything about it as she brought her Omnioculars back up to her eyes, fiddling with the dials.
"And now, please greet –the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand –Lynch!"
Seven players swept onto the playing field, only they were wearing green. Hope was slightly put out that none of the Irish players were willing to partake in dangerous stunts…ah, well, you get what you get.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
It took the Chairwizard a surprising amount of time to make his way out and onto the field and release the four balls and give the sharp whistle that instigated the beginning of the game as each player surged after their prospective ball.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
Watching for the Quaffle wasn't nearly as fun as searching for the Snitch or watching the Beaters batter the Bludgers back and forth between them. The Bulgarian Beaters in particular were quite aggressive. They reminded her a little of the Slytherin Beaters, only not quite as underhanded as they were; the match had nothing to do with the House rivalry that often took place on the Quidditch field (at least, during the Gryffindor-Slytherin match).
Vulchanov gave a vicious smack to the Bludger closest to him, sending it spinning in the direction of the Irish Keeper, Barry Ryan, who had to roll on his broom to avoid it. A smirk wormed its way onto Hope's lips as she closed in briefly on the Keeper, taking note of his crimson face and the fist he was shaking in the direction of Vulchanov, both exchanging some rude hand gestures that Hope might want to use on a later date. She twisted the dials quickly, bringing it back up to speed as she focused on Moran briefly as he dodged wildly in an effort to avoid the barrage of Bludgers that Vulchanov and Volkov threw his way, but one of the Bludgers grazed him across the ribcage.
"Ooh…" Hope winced sympathetically behind her Omnioculars. That had to sting, but it was still better than having a few broken ribs for his trouble. Hope would know all about that.
Luckily for Moran, the injury didn't seem too substantial because he was back in action within a matter of minutes after taking the appropriate time to gauge just how much of his limbs he could still completely use. And then he was back in the game, flying ahead of Mullet before doubling back suddenly and feinting, tossing the Quaffle to Troy, who ducked under Ivanova. But then he had to drop the Quaffle to avoid a Bludger, thus giving Bulgaria possession through Levski.
Levski almost ran head long into Moran in his effort to remain focused on the Quaffle, so he barely caught it. It was lucky for Ireland, then, because Troy had taken his loss of concentration on everything but the ball and had used his fist to punch it right out of his hands, catching it once it was in the free air and racing off towards the goal posts, ducking past the Keeper easily to score the first goal of the game.
"TROY SCORES! Ten-zero to Ireland!" Bagman hooted with excitement as Troy flew a few laps around the stadium at the small victory, but it must not have been quite as small in the big leagues as it was during school.
Hope put down her Omnioculars briefly so that she could join in with Hermione and Ron who had leapt up once the points had been scored, cheering loudly and brightly. She didn't think that she had ever been so excited about a Quidditch match before.
The game progressed rather quickly after that first goal, but that didn't mean that it didn't go well into the night, because it certainly did. Hope's eyes could hardly keep track as the Quaffle passed from Chaser to Chaser and as Bludgers made contact with bats as the Beaters moved to block the hits from their fellows. Before hardly any time had passed, Ireland had scored twice more, being up now by thirty points and resulting in some very surly red-clad fans.
Hope watched with avid fascination as the game progressed into a much more serious replication of one of the Gryffindor-Slytherin matches that she had played in, because she could compare nothing else to how vicious the Bulgarians were becoming, especially the Beaters. Hope winced every time they struck the Bludgers with their bats as if she could hear the sound of the crack when they connected.
When the Bulgarians finally scored their first goal, the Veela had to celebrate, but the boys listened to their father this time around, deafening the sound by stuffing their fingers into their ears. Hope tapped George's knee when the coast was clear, smiling behind her Omnioculars, the Veela having no effect on her.
Dimitrov of Bulgaria was in possession. He passed to Levski, who passed it back to Dimitrov, who then passed to Ivanova, who–oh!
Hope aimed her Omnioculars away from the Bulgarian Chasers, because at that moment, Seekers Krum and Lynch had plunged into a deep vertical dive that Hope would have never been able to pull off. At least, not with a good deal of practice before hand to keep her from snapping her neck. Hope's eyes went to the ground, but there was no Snitch—
"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione, her shrill tone echoing in Hope's ears.
However, only Lynch actually connected with the ground, as Krum had pulled up at the last second, leaving him virtually unscathed if not for the windburn they had both undoubtedly gained for going at break-neck speeds. It was a very impressive feint.
"It's time-out!" Bagman called over the noise, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
"Hey, Hope?"
"Hm?" The pair of Omnioculars perched on Hope's nose as she turned her face towards Fred made her look a little like Trelawney with her over-large glasses.
"Do me a favor and don't ever try that," he said seriously, leaning over his brother so she could hear him. "I don't think George could survive the heart attack."
"Oh, shut up, Freddie!"
Hope grinned behind the Omnioculars. "I'll keep it in mind."
Hope wouldn't be trying that move, though, no matter how beautiful and deadly it was, it required a certain skill with the broom, that much Hope could see quite clearly, and it was a skill that she had yet to achieve in the air. But Viktor Krum was clearly a natural; it looked almost as if he didn't even need a broomstick.
She twisted a few dials, focusing in on Krum, smirking when she saw how he was scanning the area with his eyes, using the time to look for the Snitch. "Oh, he is good…"
"Who?" George asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Krum…how good is he, do you think, compared to the Seekers of the other teams?" she asked, withdrawing the Omnioculars to actually look her boyfriend in the face.
George's eyes grew distant as he thought. "Er…probably the best…why?"
"Just wondering," Hope sang, giving him a bright smile as she curled one of his loose fiery locks behind his ear. "Do you know how cute you look when you're thinking?" She dutifully ignored the sound of Ron's groan on her other side.
George's smile was close to a smirk, but his pink cheeks ruined (or made, depending on your point of view, Hope supposed) the picture. "Yeah?"
Hope sniggered, settling the Omnioculars onto her eyes once more, her smirk widened when he ducked to kiss her cheek lightly.
In a matter of fifteen minutes after Lynch had returned to the game, Ireland had scored enough goals to be leading by a hundred and twenty points ahead of Bulgaria. Unfortunately, as it often was with an intense game like Quidditch, the more one team pulled ahead, the more fouls took place, and the more injuries occurred. This became clear when Mullet streaked towards the goal posts only to be spun off course by Zograf using a move that Hope had never seen a Keeper use before, but she only caught about half of it, they were just moving so fast, too fast for her to see.
The piercing whistle announced the foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing –excessive use of elbows!" Bagman yelled. "And –yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
Hope did her best to ignore the team mascots who were now seeming to be having a bit of a match of their own, making fun of each other from opposite sides of the field. It was…pretty ugly…and the Veela had seemed to have done something to influence Hassan Mostafa, the referee.
Hermione had been reduced to giggles at the sight of the man jumping off of his broom to stand before the Veela smoothing his moustache and flexing his nonexistent muscles as if they were something to behold.
"Now, we can't have that! Somebody slap the referee!" Bagman cried through his laughter.
Hope and Hermione laughed with the rest of the Weasleys as one of the mediwizards that had assisted Lynch earlier came pelting across the field to knee the man rather painfully in the shin. Mostafa fell to the ground clutching at his probably throbbing leg before stumbling into a standing position and shouting angrily at the Veela…and they didn't look too pleased with him either.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" Bagman called. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty..."
Hope shook her head and laughed, turning her attention towards the game once more.
"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and anger seemed to practically vibrate from the Bulgarian fans located around the stadium. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes...there they go...and Troy takes the Quaffle..."
Hope winced briefly behind the Omnioculars as Moran was nearly thrown off her broom by Dimitrov, causing the Irish-fans to demand for a foul.
"Foul!" Bagman agreed with them. "Dimitrov skins Moran– deliberately flying to collide there– and it's got to be another penalty– yes, there's the whistle!"
Hope stared in awe at the anger of the Veela. She had never seen anything like it, but they had changed in their anger. Hope was used to this, being a metamorphmagus, her appearance often shifted on impulse when her rage reached astronomical levels, but this, this was something else entirely. Their mesmerizing faces had warped and elongated, giving him an appearance that would have been more closely related to a bird (making her think of Sirens from Greek myths with the faces of beautiful women and the bodies of birds that could entice sailors to their deaths…) and they seemed to be throwing fire across the pitch to the leprechauns.
"Whoa!" Ron said, stunned. He lifted his eyes to stare at Hope. "You don't do that too, do you?"
Hope rolled her eyes with a snort.
"And that, boys, is why you should never go for looks alone!" Mr. Weasley yelled to his sons as the whole group watching in fascination as the Ministry workers attempted to separate the team mascots with little avail.
"Levski– Dimitrov– Moran– Troy– Mullet– Ivanova– Moran again– Moran– MORAN SCORES!"
Hope lifted her eyes from the fascinating competition going down between the Veela and the leprechauns in time to see Quigley give a savage swing at the Bludger, sending it rocketing in Krum's direction. Without the appropriate time to duck, Krum was hit flat in the face.
An "Ooh!" of sympathy rippled through the crowd.
"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him—"
"Look! Lynch!" Hope cried out suddenly as the Irish Seeker had gone into a steep dive, intent on the Snitch that could barely be seen where it was close to the ground. It was only then that the crowd seemed to realize what exactly was happening, and the Irish fans had begun to cheer anew, even as Krum sped after him until he was matching his speed as they drew nearer and nearer to the ground, closer and closer to the Snitch.
"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked, clutching at her face hard enough to leave nail indentations in her cheeks.
"They're not!" Ron yelled over the noise.
"Lynch is!" Hope disagreed. They all had to wince as Lynch collided with the ground for the second time that game, but Hope's eyes replayed the few movements leading up to the crash on her Omnioculars, seeing how Krum snagged the Snitch just a few seconds before Lynch slipped off his broom and crashed into the grass.
"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, having missed the catch without the use of the Omnioculars.
"It's Krum!" Hope yelled, leaping up to cheer at the spectacular catch, not at all caring that he hadn't been on the team that she had been cheering on the whole time. "Krum caught it!" A small figure in red robes could be seen dismounting onto the grass with his fist raised high; Hope recognized it as the same move she did every time she caught the Snitch (perhaps it was a Seeker thing).
Ron burst out into laughter. "Check out the scoreboard!"
Hope did, and she couldn't help but laugh as well. The finally total was Bulgaria with one hundred and sixty points and Ireland with one hundred and seventy points. Ireland had won but Krum had caught the Snitch. What a load of bad luck for the Bulgarians, eh?
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, sounding about as stunned by the victor and the end of the match as everyone in the stadium. Hope doubted anyone had seen that coming.
"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH –BUT IRELAND WINS– good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"I think you and Fred need to try for the Divination position once you graduate," Hope yelled to George as he and Fred did a little happy dance that one could only do if they were about to get paid.
"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron roared, jumping up and down with a beaming smile on his face. "He ended it when Ireland was a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"
Hope shook her head and laughed.
Honestly, Dean didn't plan to get separated in the chaos, or get knocked out, but Hope's bad luck had apparently rubbed off on him. At first Dean had thought it was the Irish really getting their pride on, like Seamus, completely out of control, before Mrs. Finnigan forced them out of the tent quickly and told them to run for the clearing.
There was fire, and people being levitated, and shouting and Dean had lost track of Seamus, and then someone had pushed him and he'd tripped and must've hit something, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking around in confusion, surrounded by a blue haze.
"You can always tell when you've made it to the Etheric Realm," he remembered Quinn saying once to Hope. "It's a realm of memory and it's easy to get lost in there…your emotions can become your reality; your fears haunt every step. It can be a peaceful place, but only for the most tranquil."
"Hello?" Dean called cautiously, his hands out as if afraid he'd run into the side of a tree, or something like that…but when he thought of Quinn's Etheric Realm, he'd honestly pictured an actual realm, with trees and streams and sunlight illuminating.
A woman stepped through the smoke and Dean balked. "Hope?"
She certainly looked like Hope. Long red hair tangled into a dangling plait, sharp green eyes, but that was where the likeness ended. This woman had a tall, loping grace that Hope would never possess -she might've been as fleeting as a shadow, but her steps were careful not graceful-, and she had no scars carved into her brow or runes carved into her hands and wrists. But the likeness was so uncanny that Dean would've thought he was looking at Hope a few years from now.
And she was striding towards the Blood-Soaked Tree, her shoulders tensed. Then she pressed her palms into the bark, her entire body glowing and released a blood-curdling scream.
No way could that had been Hope, Dean realized. Hope never screamed. Not once.
He stumbled as he tripped backwards and when he opened his eyes it was to a cluster of school friends around him.
"You all right?" Seamus asked while Hope probed the back of his head with Hermione and Ron crouching over him in concern. "Did someone knock you out?"
Dean grimaced. "Think I just tripped, actually."
Ron snorted and Hermione elbowed him but Hope and Seamus seized his arms and pulled him upright.
"Can you walk?" Hope asked, frowning. She was always better in a crisis. "Because I'm already down a wand."
Dean and Seamus gaped. "You're kidding!"
Hope didn't seem too concerned.
"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" Hermione muttered, frowning around at the abandoned campsite, tents still up, the smell of burnt tarp and grass hanging in the air. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just —"
"Shh!" Hope hissed suddenly, clamping a hand over her and Ron's mouth for good measure. Both Seamus and Dean froze.
"What is it?" Ron whispered through her fingers.
"There's someone moving out there!" Hope hissed, her eyes filtering from green to a solid black as they narrowed.
Her eyes were better than theirs, because they saw nothing and heard even less.
"It could be Dad looking for us," Ron whispered back heatedly.
"Then wouldn't he have been calling our names by now?" Hope asked, to which her only answer was silence. She stood up. "I'm going to go check it out."
But she was dragged back down by both of Ron and Hermione's arms.
"Are you mental?" Ron demanded.
"It could be a Death Eater!" Hermione hissed, and they all jolted where they were crouching when a voice pierced through the night.
"MORSMORDRE!"
Dean's eyes reflected the green flash that shot across the sky, both him and Hope flinching hard, remembering all too well the last flash of green that had sent them crashing into the ground. Her grip on his arm tightened.
But it wasn't the Killing Curse. This spell caused the night sky above them to twist and shift into an image Hope had seen only in books that covered Voldemort's reign of terror. It was a skull, a massive one with a snake protruding from its mouth.
The forest behind them exploded into screams at its sight.
"Okay, now we should really leave," Hermione insisted, tugging on Ron and Seamus before dragging Hope and Dean backwards. "Come on, move!"
However, they hardly had time to comply to her demands before twenty wizards popped into existence, surrounding them in a circle, wands drawn.
"SHIELD!" Hope didn't have a chance to think, throwing her arms out, one of the runes carved into her palms glowing faintly before erecting an opaque barrier between all of them and the spells fired on them.
"Why're they shooting at us?!" Seamus demanded, arms over his head.
"'Cause they're morons," Hope seethed, wincing at the barrage of spells that cracked her barrier before rippling and smoothing away.
"Stop! STOP! That's my son!"
Hope almost melted in relief, her shield dropping, as she finally made out Mr. Weasley's thinning mop of ginger hair as he approached them, jostling a few wizards to the side in his haste to reach them.
"Ron– Hope– Hermione- are you all right?" He sounded out of breath and unsteady after the events of the past few seconds.
"Yeah," Ron said quickly, "we just came to find Dea—" Dean gave a little wave, but Ron never got to finish, as he was cut off by one of the wizards Mr. Weasley had nudged aside. He was an older man dressed far more impeccably than anyone else in the clearing with short grey hair a bit all over the place in the midst of the chaos and a toothbrush mustache.
Hope bristled at the sight of him, stepping neatly in front of Dean, like he was being threatened, like Hope needed to defend him. She'd been mostly quiet, even after their reunion and Dean was figuring out that her depression was rearing its ugly head.
He couldn't see how her eyes darkened as the man pointed his wand to each of the kids in turn. "Out of the way, Arthur. Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"We didn't do that!" Seamus goggled.
"We didn't do anything!" Ron added in a sullen voice. "What did you want to attack us for?"
"Do not lie, sir!" the man cried, his eyes wild. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
Hope muttered something unsavory under her breath that had Hermione hissing out of the corner of her mouth "Hope, shut up!"
"Barty," said a tired-looking witch, the only other one who seemed to have sense, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to—"
"Where did the Mark come from, you lot?" Mr. Weasley asked, ignoring Mr. Crouch.
"Over there," Hermione said, gesturing off to a point in front of them. "There was someone behind the trees...they shouted words –an incantation—"
"Oh, stood over there, did they? Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy—" Mr. Crouch turned on Hermione who seemed a bit stunned.
"Back off!" Hope snarled, pushing herself in front of Hermione this time. "Just because you missed something doesn't mean you get to point fingers at us when we were only here because our friend got knocked out in the chaos!"
Dean rubbed the back of his still-tender head, his face feeling hot under the scrutiny. Honestly, how did Hope do it all the time? He just wanted to disappear…but it did make sense why she was always running off at a second's notice.
Hope was the one that patched you up and said "You stay here, I'm gonna go kick some ass". Why put someone at risk for a job you'd do yourself?
"Hope," Mr. Weasley warned.
"I can easily snap a wand, is all I'm saying," Hope fired back, fists balled where they were hanging loose at her side. She hadn't reached for a knife yet, though.
"There's someone here!" One of the men who had headed in the direction that Hermione had indicated. "Unconscious! It's– but– blimey..."
"You've got someone? Who? Who is it?"
Hope wasn't the only one whose jaw unhinged as the man returned to the circle of witches and wizards holding their lit wands aloft, carrying the stunned form of the house-elf.
"This-cannot-be," Barty said, his words disconnected. "No—"
"There's no one else there," the second called after him as the man went off to search the place where they had found the house elf, but he ignored him.
"Bit embarrassing," he said to Mr. Weasley, nodding to the elf. "Barty Crouch's house-elf…I mean to say…"
"Come off it, Amos, you don't seriously think it was the elf?" Mr. Weasley inquired in a low voice. "The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."
"Yeah," Mr. Diggory agreed, "and she had a wand."
"What?" Mr. Weasley said, stunned by that knowledge.
"Here, look." Mr. Diggory held one out for Mr. Weasley to see, but it was too dark for Dean to make out. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."
"Dearie, did you hit your head?" one of the witches asked Dean so suddenly that he jolted and Hope whipped around, fixing narrowed eyes on the wand in her hand.
"He's my brother," she said sharply, apparently liking anyone pointing a wand at Dean about as much as she liked them being aimed at her. "I can take care of him."
And she waited until the wand was withdrawn before pressing a hand to the back of Dean's throbbing head and muttering a single word that made Dean's pain ripple and disappear.
"Thanks," he said, still rubbing at it.
"Seamus, why don't you made your reckless friend sit on that stump over there?"
"Hypocrite," Dean said and Hope bared her teeth.
"I'm older," she said.
"You're such a liar! You're—!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, turning her attention from the squabbling pair to focus on the Ministry officials who had just begun to question the recently roused Winky who was sobbing very heartily at the sight of the Dark Mark still hanging in the sky.
"Elf! Do you know who I am?" Mr. Diggory demanded of the house-elf, making her sob even harder. "I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago. And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"
Winky gulped at the air. "I-I-I is not doing it, sir," she said amidst whimpers, "I is not knowing how, sir!"
"You were found with a wand in your hand!" the man snapped, waving said wand in front of her eyes, the light glinting off the wood. She easily recognized the twisted base, darker than the rest of the wand.
"Oh, that's my wand," Hope said, surprised, shifting uncomfortably when all the attention turned back to her once more.
"Excuse me?" Mr. Diggory said, stunned.
"My wand," Hope said, slowly annunciating, "I must have lost it—"
"You lost it? Is this a confession? You lost it after you conjured the Mark?"
The look Hope gave him was short of incredulous.
"Amos, think who you're talking to!" Mr. Weasley bit out. "Is Hope Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"
Mr. Diggory back-pedaled slightly in realization. "Er– of course not. Sorry…carried away…" And then he turned back to Winky, his eyes glittering in the darkness. "So, you found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"
Hope scowled deeply before turning to Seamus. "Seamus, we should probably get you and Dean back before your mum starts worrying."
"Oh, right," Seamus said, completely enthralled and completely forgetting how they'd all run off to find Dean without a second's notice.
Hope, Hermione, and Ron had lost track of the other Weasleys in the chaos, but she was sure that they were fine, after all, Ron was the one most likely to end up in trouble.
"There you two are," a voice grated and Hope and Dean jumped suddenly, twisting to see Quinn striding towards them, looking very harried and exhausted. They reached out to cup their cheeks, looking them over for any injuries. "You all right?"
"Dean bumped his head," Hope supplied, "but I'm all right."
Dean threw her a betrayed look. "Quinn, I'm fine, really, Hope healed it already."
Quinn turned their head towards Hope with an unreadable expression and Hope scowled.
"Mr. Weasley," they said instead, looking to the man keeping an eye on all the children, "thank you for looking out for my girl, but she and her brother will be spending the remaining week with their mother…Seamus, please inform your mother for me."
"Sure," Seamus said quickly, "but what about—?"
"I've already collected their things," Quinn assured him.
Hope looked back to Ron and Hermione, as surprised and confused as they were. "I guess I'll see you guys on the first," she said helplessly before vanishing in a blip.
"Dean! Hope!"
Hope yelped and Dean let out a sound that could've been a squeak, but he'd never admit to it, as Diane came out of nowhere, pulling them into a tight hug before pulling back to look them over.
"We're okay," they said as one, just tired at this point.
"How'd you know to come?" Hope asked Quinn instead.
"Kid, I'm a master magician," Quinn retorted dryly, "and I can astral project better than you will ever dream to."
Hope blinked and then turned red.
"Did I see you and your boy snogging in your potions room?" Quinn smirked. "Who can really say?"
Hope hide her face in her hands. "This family is a nightmare!"
"You were snogging your boyfriend in a potions room?" Dean snorted. "Class it up at least."
"Oh, shut up," Hope snapped. "At least I've got a boyfriend to snog! All you do is make eyes at Daphne Greengrass!"
Dean's blush was so dark it was obvious. "Shut up! I do not!"
"Maybe you should offer to carry her books, Dean, maybe then you'll get the nerve to—"
"Why, you—!"
Quinn pulled them back in a bit of bemusement before Dean could fail to get Hope in a headlock. "All right kiddos…lets go upstairs and get some sleep, yeah?"
They looked from Quinn to Diane, who quirked an eyebrow. The fight went out of them.
"Yeah, all right," Hope grumbled and Dean yawned widely. "You win…this time."
"What was that?"
Hope flipped them off on the way up the stairs.
"Are they really okay?" Diane asked Quinn in concern.
"Yeah, they're fine, Dean got a bump on his head, but he'll be all right," Quinn promised, ducking forward to kiss her lightly. "I'll be back later, babe, get some sleep."
And then they were gone and all Diane could do was sigh.
Hope was in a forest with so many twists and turns that as soon as she stepped off the little garden path, she'd immediately gotten lost and all she could do was huff in irritation, stepping over roots until she saw someone.
"Hey!" she called, stepping forward and tripping right through him. "Dammit," she grumbled into the ground before rolling over and staring.
Hope knew what her father looked like, but somehow it was startling how young he was. With his olive cheeks, hazel eyes behind rectangular frames, and untamed black hair.
"Dad," she whispered.
"He wants the cloak," James was saying, "I don't want to give it to him."
"Why?" Hope realized now there was more than one person there. Lily Potter looked as much like the picture of Adelaide as Hope had originally thought, with her arms around what could only be Hope as an infant. "We're not using it."
James frowned deeply, taking his daughter from his wife, smiling when she babbled in delight. "It's a family heirloom," he said finally, expression darkening, "and I don't like the look he gets when he sees Sirius or I using it."
Hope's brow furrowed and so did Lily's.
"He's our leader," she said quietly.
"Just because Dumbledore is our leader doesn't mean he's above reproach or that he deserves to get everything he asks for," James said with finality. "We're not his little Death Eaters like with Voldemort…if he takes away choice, we're just like them."
Hope's eyes opened and she blinked a few times to right herself, sitting up in her bed and rubbing at her head before looking out the window next to her. It was barely light out but there was still someone standing on the sidewalk below.
It was Sylvar…at least, someone who looked uncommonly like Sylvar, from the hint of her sharp ears to her long black hair and pointed chin. But she was wearing an odd leather vest with a triple spiral crest that looked oddly familiar, a sword strapped at her back.
Hope stared, but then a car drove past and she vanished. Hope flopped back on her bed, rubbing her eyes. She was starting to lose it…maybe Hermione was right about her needing more rest…
Dean let out a snore from the opposite wall and Hope let herself fall back asleep.
"SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP," Dean read out loud, "well, I guess they're not covering it up."
Hope snorted. "There's always tomorrow, besides, too many people to cover up something that big, right?"
"You'd be surprised," Diane said cryptically into her coffee, "more likely they'll blame it on something other than that Dark Lord that's supposedly dead, people trying to intentionally stir up trouble…maybe even blame the Bulgarians, they're known for their dark magic tendencies."
"Thought you didn't believe that dark magic was a thing?" Dean asked from behind the newspaper.
"It's not," Diane agreed, "all magic can be dark magic if you try hard enough…but supposedly Bulgaria is more known for teaching what's supposedly the dark arts…terrible excuse for magic, if you ask me, absolutely disgraceful. I could kill those supposed dark wizards faster than they could curse me, is all I'm saying."
"Wouldn't that mean asking your ex for magic, though?" Hope asked.
"Oi!"
Dean said nothing behind the paper and Hope know it was awkward subject, bringing up his other mother. "It's going on about Ministry blunders," he said.
"Big surprise," Hope rolled her eyes.
"Apparently there were no culprits apprehended and lax security—"
"That's likely," Diane snorted.
"Dark wizards running unchecked, oh apparently it's also a national disgrace—"
"That implies that the nation had any honor to begin with," Hope said and Dean glowered at her as Diane coughed on her coffee and Hope swallowed her porridge with a grin. "Don't go by me, I hate this country and its magic…who wrote the article, anyways?"
"Some Skeeter lady—"
Hope had to thickly swallow her porridge. "Rita Skeeter? That asshole still has a job?"
Dean shrugged. "I guess…why?"
Hope stuck out her tongue. "She wrote this really crude article on my parents' supposedly 'sudden' engagement, when, really, there was a war going on, of course everyone was getting married right out of Hogwarts, but she did a lot of speculating about why the Lord of an Ancient House was marrying so young and to a woman of lesser class." She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"She thought your mum was pregnant?" Diane asked incredulously. "And decided to publish it in a newspaper?"
Hope nodded.
"Bitch," Diane muttered. "Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself."
Hope raised her cup of water. "Cheers to that."
Diane clinked her plastic against Hope's and Dean sniggered before turning back to the paper.
"'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged sometime after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Wouldn't they've actually told people if there'd been any deaths, though?" he asked.
"Not if they were muggles and certainly not if they didn't want to cause panic," his mother replied. "If there's one thing you can count on with the British MoM, it's prejudice and secrecy."
She'd never forgiven them for not telling her when Dean had been petrified or when Hope and Dean had been attacked on the way to Hogwarts. And Quinn could barely stand wizards, hence hurrying back to Greece with something akin to exhaustion and a dire need to be around magicians for an extended period of time.
Dean Fogg's husband, Kingsley, had stopped by earlier in the morning to get a statement from Hope -she'd convinced him to leave Dean be, mostly because he'd been knocked out for a while, and also because he'd been sleeping peacefully and Hope didn't have the heart to wake him up- had said no one had died for sure, so there was that.
"Can I go with Hope to Greece next summer?" Dean asked suddenly and Hope swallowed her porridge so fast in her surprise that she choked and Dean and Diane ignored her as she fought to clear her throat, trying not to die at the table.
"Go to Greece? Where most of your sister's time will be spent on classes she takes at Brakebills University? And where you will be left almost completely alone?" Diane asked with an arched eyebrow. "Getting up into who knows what kind of trouble?"
Dean who had clasped his hands together to pout and give her puppy eyes, suddenly scowled. "That's Hope's job!"
"Oi!" Hope complained but when they both gave her an identical look, she flushed pink and grumbled into her porridge, conceding the point.
"I'll think about it," Diane said finally and Dean's shoulders slumped.
"I hate this family," he complained.
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."
Hope, eager for a change in subject. "You know that our school has decided that we need dress robes this year and I'm not allowed to wear a fucking suit?"
And it was enough to violently draw Diane into another reason to hate Hogwarts.
Hope and Dean didn't have to run to catch the train, or miss it like they had last year -Diane and Quinn had learned from that mistake and had made sure that both kids actually made it onto the train before they'd actually departed-, but it had been a close call for the Weasleys and Hermione.
"Almost missing the train? C'mon, guys," Hope laughed as the pair made it to her compartment long after Dean had separated to search for Seamus (and try not to trip if he saw Daphne Greengrass).
"Shove off." Ron pushed her off her seat and took it for himself, making both girls laugh. "You know George was moping for the past week? Do you have any idea how depressing it is to deal with moping George?" He didn't tell her about how pale he'd been when they'd come back sans Hope, worry clinging to his entire body.
Hope arched an eyebrow. "Reckon a snog'll cheer him up?"
"I'm gonna murder you in your sleep," Ron promised and Hermione giggled.
"Best of luck," Hope cackled. "I'm a light sleeper." Which was to say…she slept very rarely. Even now, she looked exceedingly tired, with grey crescents under her eyes. Hermione and Ron had learned not to comment on it, because it wasn't something they could very well fix. But they did notice she looked paler, too, in fact, she looked like someone that should be having a lie in.
"Are you sticking with black instead of red now?" Hermione asked instead, gesturing at her own hair. Hope raised a hand to tug on the end of the thick plait Quinn had threaded while Dean ran upstairs to grab his extra sketchbook and new pencils that had been Hope's birthday gift to him as Diane called after him to make sure he grabbed his clean underwear (which had made him red-faced and positively annoyed).
Diane had wondered about it too, but people always saw her as Lily Potter's daughter first, so Hope figured that she might as well remind people that she was James' too.
"I'm testing it out," she said with hazel eyes bright, "we'll see if I keep it."
And she let herself be pulled into conversation, pretending like deep in her trunk, -in a separate, smaller journal than the one she usually carried- there wasn't a page of initials with dates crossed out with one that remained uncrossed that simply read: C.D. 24/6/1995.
(Not knowing that one day, years upon years ago, Lily Potter had etched 'J.P. 31/10/1981' in a trembling hand)
"Well, there's something happening at Hogwarts," Ron grumbled, "and obviously Percy wanted us to ask so that wasn't happening."
"I can respect that," Hope snorted.
George, it seemed, had restrained himself from prowling through the train to see his girlfriend, who he hadn't seen or heard from since Quinn apparently showed up to drag her and Dean home after the chaos at the World Cup.
But she was easy to catch sight of on the way up the stairs that led into the Great Hall. Her hair was still black, but a lot of the younger kids stared at her, because they always did, so she was easy to pinpoint in a brief conversation with Professor McGonagall who looked slightly concerned before nodding and pointing towards the stairs that led away from the Great Hall.
George caught up with her easily. "Hey—"
Hope twisted around and almost toppled before he reached a hand out to steady her. She held onto his arm, eyes squeezing shut tightly, counting a few seconds. "Hey," she said after a few moments, "I'm totally fine."
He arched an eyebrow and Hope flaked with a grumble. "It's fine, I'm just probably anemic."
"Anemic?" George repeated the word carefully.
"I need a blood replenisher," Hope sighed, leaning into him. "Luckily, I know where Poppy's stash is –she's already in the Hall and I'm not bothering her, that's for sure– which is lucky because I left all of mine in Greece, like a certified dumbass, after I downed almost my whole supply- why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" he asked, reeling her in closer because he knew she liked it and Hope was so distracted that she almost tripped on a step.
"You've got a pretty face, Georgie, but that's all you've got going for you," she grumbled, pink-cheeked, because he was still looking at her like that, utterly fond, like he always did when she started to ramble.
"Really? My girlfriend thinks I'm rather brilliant," he grinned and Hope rolled her eyes, pushing open the hospital wing doors to stride forward into the back room where Madam Pomfrey kept all the potions. He would've been more impressed that she knew where to look if he hadn't known that she spent a large amount of time in the hospital wing to begin with.
"Ah!" she said suddenly. "Here it is!" She pulled back a bottle of viscous red fluid and raised it to George with a "Cheers!" before promptly downing it like a shot.
She shuddered as it went down. "Okay, let's sit down before I pass out." The potion took a few minutes to kick in…unless you downed several at the same time, which Hope had done over the summer and she wasn't a fan of a repeat. "Did Fred remember the fireworks?"
George snorted, sitting down beside her. "You jest, but he almost forgot them."
"No!" Hope gasped. "Imagine having to write home asking for the fireworks you left!"
"Yeah, I think Mum would've just burned them…"
Hope looked to him out of the corner of her eye remembering what Mrs. Weasley had been grumbling about the twins the night before they'd left.
"It's not as though they haven't got brains, but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office…I don't know where we went wrong with them."
Hope kissed his cheek soundly and George's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What's that for?"
"Because I think you're brilliant, even if your mother doesn't," Hope told him, rubbing a thumb across his cheek.
It brought out a smile and he turned his face slightly cupping her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her palm and looking up at her in a way that made her breath lodge in her throat. "So…more than just a pretty face?"
"Oh, shut up," Hope huffed, but she still accepted his kiss easily enough.
They didn't make it back to the Great Hall until after the Sorting, which Hope was perfectly fine with -George had insisted on her laying down for fifteen minutes when her stomach had started to roil, and Hope thought it wasn't worth the effort to fight with him about it-, what she wasn't fine with was the number of eyes on her and George as they took their seats, Hope between Ron and Hermione, and George at Fred's left side.
At least Hope was looking less wan and pale as she tucked into her shepherd's pie even as Hermione furiously refused to eat another bite after finding out that house elves made the food. Hope doubted that Hermione's hunger strike was going to last long, but she didn't really think it wise to comment on it.
"So!" The tables instantly quieted as Dumbledore stood and Hope scowled at him before returning her attention to her plate. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." His eyes lingered on Fred and George who whistled with innocence that they had never had. "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"What?" Hope and Ron stared at each other in horror.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October," Dumbledore continued as though shocked mutterings hadn't broken out across the hall, "and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy –but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—" But his words were stalled and overtaken as the night sky above them up on the ceiling flashed and boomed as thunder and lightning made their presences known. And then a third presence was added to the mix as the doors were thrown open.
The man who stood at the threshold was quite impressive to say the least. Hope knew she wasn't the only one craning her neck to catch a glimpse of him.
He limped heavily, leaning a bit on his staff, his face shrouded by his travelling cloak as he made his way to the front, finally shaking back his hood, but all Hope could see was shaggy, dark greying hair. It was only when he turned towards Dumbledore that they actually got a look at his face. The scars were plenty; he was missing a part of his nose and the rest of his face was marred, though not as much as his nose. And his eyes…they were by far the strangest. One was normal, well, as normal as it could be on a face like his, but the other was much larger and rounder, about the size of a Sickle perhaps and it was a bright blue. And it was staying forward like the other one, it was gazing to the side, and then out of the back of his head.
Creepy…and kind of cool. Hope wasn't sure which one it was more of as the man shook Dumbledore's, sharing a few words of quiet conversation that no students in the hall would have been able to understand or even hear.
It was only once the man had taken the seat to the right of Dumbledore that the Headmaster spoke once more. "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody."
Whispers flitted through the hall at the name Moody. Hope could have sworn that she'd heard it somewhere…
"This is Trainee Tonks, normally she'd be with my colleague Moody, but I'm minding her today," was what Kingsley had said when they'd first been introduced, making the young pink-haired woman at his side glower.
"Moody?" Hermione asked Ron suddenly. "Like Mad-Eye Moody? That bloke your dad had to go help this morning? The one who had a problem with policemen?"
Hope had evidently missed something while being with the Thomas', but it didn't seem like an appropriate time to ask.
"Don't see how it could've been anyone else," Ron shrugged.
"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, completely stunned by his appearance. "What happened to his face?"
"Dunno." Ron was staring at him in unabashed awe as he thrust his hand into his cloak and pulled out a small hip flask, taking a long drink from it. Hope's eyes dropped to the floor, widening in surprise at what she saw. Because instead of having a leg made of flesh, he had one made of wood with a clawed foot.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore started again, smiling as he was well aware of the attention that was directed to Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
This meant absolutely nothing to Hope, but clearly it meant something to a lot of people as even Fred spoke up, excited and surprised. "You're JOKING!"
At that comment, laughter filled the hall and Hope tried to ignore how Fred's cheeks turned a faint pink.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he disagreed with a small chuckle, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar." A sharp look from Professor McGonagall sent him in the right direction. "Er– but maybe this is not the time...no...where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities– until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
Of course, Hope thought wryly, bitterly, fiercely. It couldn't be considered very challenging if there wasn't threat of death.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore said over the continuing whispers of excitement, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."
For some reason, Hope couldn't help but very much think that those efforts were going to be in vain.
(She could still see it hanging over Cedric, an omen of death)
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
"I'm going for it!" Fred said with enthusiasm that Hope couldn't share. Though she had to admit, the thousand Galleon reward would definitely help them down the road towards that joke shop they were cooking up.
But…high death toll? A thousand galleons weren't worth risking your life. Hope knew that well enough; she'd risked her life enough to know that.
Hope twisted her snake ring around her finger and kept her eyes down in case she looked up and saw Cedric.
"Whoa," Ron said in awe, "imagine doing that!"
"Yeah, let's not," Hope said, taking a drink of her pumpkin juice, "I think I'd like to at least have one year where I'm not worrying about something that could possibly kill me."
Ron and Hermione laughed, but she wasn't wrong; a break would be nice.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, nodding to them in turn, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age –that is to say, seventeen years or older– will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."
The ire of many at the missed chance to prove themselves was shared by George and Fred who yelled out "That's rubbish!"
"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Students fell in together and merged in their haste to leave the Hall, leaving the trio and Fred and George as the only ones at the Gryffindor table, the aisles completely filled.
"They can't do that! We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot!" George complained as Hope took his hand and dragged him out of his seat to stand.
"Sometimes life just sucks, Georgie," she said, rolling her eyes and kissing the corner of his mouth, "now come on, we're getting left behind."
"They're not stopping me entering," Fred said mulishly. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," Ron said dreamily, no doubt thinking what he could buy with that kind of money. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"
Hermione and Hope shared a look of annoyance as they dragged the boys towards the entrance hall, and up after all the others had gone before them. The stairs didn't take so long to climb today and in no time they found themselves in front of the Fat Lady who asked automatically: "Password?"
"Balderdash," George said sullenly and they all entered through the portrait hole, and Hope, who probably should've skipped the meal entirely, fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed.
Hallam Street was empty and dark and it gave her a bad feeling. Hope wouldn't have even known it was Hallam, if not for the Feywild Café.
All the other buildings were gone, like they'd never been there.
Hope crossed the street, looking around her…it was strange. There was no moon and no stars to illuminate the darkness, just one flickering lamppost, and Hope who had grown up feeling as though eyes were on her, couldn't help but feel watched, even now.
She steeled her nerves, crossing the street to grasp the brass knob and pull it open.
"Sylvar?" She called carefully. "Are you here?"
After that dream of her at the Thomas', she'd tried to go to the Feywild Café, but it had been quiet and blocked off, like someone didn't want anyone to get into it, and, most importantly, Sylvar had been nowhere to be seen.
The lights within the café flickered as ominously as they had outside, casting shadows on the pool of blood there.
"Help," a voice rasped and Hope shot awake in bed, breathing in and out hard.
Hope could feel the dread in her bones and she dressed quickly and quietly, leaving the dormitory silently, hightailing up to Morea's chamber.
"Why?" She could barely gasp as her blood choked her. She didn't know them, their face was hidden and unknown. But she didn't have to see the face to know the presence that spread like shadows, drowning out the light, and she didn't have to know the face to see the smirk.
"To win the game," they breathed. "Time to leave the queen undefended."
Sylvar's eyes widened.
"Time to let the Raven Queen know that I'm getting stronger and stronger," they purred. "You've been dead for centuries, Sylvar, sister of Selenar, I think it's time you went back."
"No—" Sylvar gargled, clutching at their hand. "You can't—she's just a child—"
"Oath-Breaker said that too," they said, unconcerned, "time's running out…soon I'll be reunited with my beloved, but I so love misery." The smile on its face was twisted and dark. "This is my favorite game…the little lost shadow, hidden from sight…but I'm going to bring her into the light, and I want her to be scared, so very scared…but I'm patient…I can wait."
Their eyes were pools of blackness and Sylvar saw nothing more.
Mirror bridges were complicated but not difficult to create. Quinn had showed Hope how to make one once, but making it a second time was harder.
Hope's hand was bleeding, but she was used to that. No one else had given up so much blood and gotten so much blood in the school, Hope would wager. She carefully painted the sigils that were needed to make the mirror bridge work, watching the blood sink into mirror, before checking the clock again.
Three in the morning, there was still time, plenty of time.
She pressed a hand to the surface of the mirror and watched it sink through. She was probably freaking out about nothing, anyways.
But then why are you so worried? A voice in her head murmured.
"Shut up," Hope muttered to herself before stepping through.
Mirror bridges were…strange and involved connecting one mirror to another through another dimension, one that Quinn called the Mirror Realm, and one that most people avoided. Luckily, you weren't there for very long if you were lucky.
The ground glowed faintly beneath her shoes and Hope followed the glowing path forward until it stopped beneath the mirror that was hanging in the Feywild Café's bathroom. Hope swallowed thickly, redrawing the sigils and pulling herself through.
She fell over the sink.
Hope lay groaning on the ground for a moment, muttering "If I'm overreacting, then this is gonna be awkward to explain."
The creak when she opened the door to see the same flickering lights from her dream. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest.
"Sylvar?" she barely breathed, coming out into the dining area and feeling her stomach fall out at the sight that stopped her dead.
Sylvar's dark hair was tangled with the blood pooling around her from a thick scarlet spot on her stomach, her hand outstretched, and her eyes unseeing.
"Sylvar, nonononononono!" Hope lurched to her side, blood soaking into her knees as she grabbed at Sylvar. "Sylvar!" she sobbed. "Please, please!"
She lifted the woman so she was in her lap, holding onto her tightly, pressing a hand to a still-warm cheek. Like Hope had just missed her, like she was still in there and Hope could fix it.
Hope pressed a hand over her stomach wound. "Heal," she whispered, but the rune on her wrist didn't warm or even glow. "Heal!" she insisted, her voice shaking, "please…please, heal!"
The rune did nothing and Hope sobbed.
There would be no more hot cups of pomegranate tea just the way Hope liked it, or laughter about how thickly she cut her vegetables, or sandwiches wrapped tight for a long ride, or smiles when she picked a lock just right.
Sylvar had been there before everyone else…and she was gone, there was no getting her back.
Hope buried her face into Sylvar's shoulder and let loose a keening sound that caused the windows to fracture.
(Streets away Nathaniel Lord held impossibly still, turning his head back, and a world away a woman cloaked in raven feathers breathed in sharply)
He knew it was coming, but he still wasn't prepared for it when he opened his door to see Hope standing there, soaked to the bone and wearing someone else's blood, shaking and tears falling freely.
"Nath," she croaked.
"Dearest, what—come inside!" He pulled her into the bare flat immediately and the door had barely swung shut before she'd wound her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.
Nath remembered all the tears and the rage from when she was ten and struggling to get on her feet. Someone had once said "Anyone else would've been screaming by now" but not Hope, never Hope…there were dangers in screaming; Lily had known that well enough.
He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight and pressing a kiss to the top of her wet hair. "Hey, it's okay…shh, I've got you."
It took her half an hour to calm down and ten minutes more for Nath to convince her to take a hot shower, giving her some spare clothes.
He gave her until she'd had a few swallows of pomegranate tea before asking "Is it something you want to talk about?"
Hope opened and closed her mouth a few times. "No," she said finally in that rough voice that made him so very angry. "I'm…I'm okay."
"You're not," Nath disagreed. "And that's okay…just don't bottle it in, all right?"
"Bottle it in?" Hope's laugh was empty. "That's like most of who I am."
Nath's mouth twitched faintly and he cupped her cheek, leaning forward to kiss her brow. "You don't have to do everything on your own, dearest."
Hope sighed and closed her eyes.
When she opened them several hours later, she was lying on the couch in Morea's chamber, the rain rattling against the window, her clothes -dry and without a trace of blood- by her feet, and Hope pressed a hand to her eyes, gritting her teeth against the tears.
Was this how Sirius had felt? Being too late?
"You do the talking."
"No, you!"
Hope tried not to sigh, using a dropper to add exactly two drops of belladonna to her bubbling potion before dropping a fistful of fluxweed into the cauldron and stirring thrice clock-wise. "You know I can hear you, right?"
Ron and Hermione shared a look behind her that she couldn't see, but didn't need to.
"Um, Hope," Hermione said carefully, "we're just wondering how you're doing…you didn't show up to Arithmancy…or Herbology and Professors Vector and Sprout said you'd come down with something, and Ron thought—"
"Someone's dead," Ron said shortly, casting a glower towards Hermione. "I'm right, aren't I?"
Hope was quiet for the longest time. "Did I ever tell you about Sylvar?" she asked finally, her voice too broken to be anywhere close to mild. She pressed her hand to her mouth briefly to swallow down the bile. "She…she had this café that I would hang out in…she kept me fed when the Dursleys didn't, gave me a place to be safe…she taught me how to cook without being afraid of being hit for messing a recipe up—" Hope choked on a laugh. "'Discovery is an adventure, little shadow,' was what she said when something didn't come out tasting right." She blinked furiously. "I knew something wasn't right, so I made a mirror bridge to the Feywild Café."
"What's—?" Hermione started to ask, but Ron cut her off with a look and she subsided.
"When I, when I got there," Hope swallowed thickly, "it was too late. Syl-Sylvar was dead."
"Oh," Hermione whispered sadly, "oh, Hope…"
"Someone stabbed her." Hope pressed her hands into her face. "And then she just crumpled away! And…" Hope scrubbed at her eyes. "And I barely even saw her the past three years…and now she's just gone!"
Ron pulled her gently from the bubbling potion to pull her into a hug that Hermione easily joined in on. It didn't take the pain away, but it hurt just a little less to know that there were always going to be those two to help support her, no matter what.
Dean knew something was wrong, but Hope didn't want to talk about it to him, or to George, it seemed, given the sometimes concerned exasperation he'd seen on her boyfriend's face, so Dean decided to leave it alone.
He glanced over to where she'd settled into her seat with Ron and Hermione at either side, close to the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Her hair was still black and there was a bit more color to her cheeks than there had been before, so he supposed that was good enough, for now.
And he'd seen her smile earlier that day when Moody had turned Malfoy into a ferret, so there was hope.
"Right, then," Moody grunted as he concluded roll call and fixed them all with a stare -with both eyes, which was a bit disconcerting-, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures –you've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
He received a few nods in response.
"But you're behind –very behind– on dealing with curses," Moody noticed, his eyes scanning over them, the blue one swirling oddly in its socket. "So, I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"
"Only one year?" Ron demanded suddenly, cutting off the scarred ex-Auror. "You're not staying?" His mouth snapped shut as both eyes zeroed in on him. And then Moody's ruined lips curved into a smile.
"Ah, so you'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" he asked, no doubt recognizing the bright ginger hair that was a Weasley trademark. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago...Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore...one year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He chuckled but none of the rest of the class joined in. Hermione shared a look with Hope had told her she wasn't quite sure how good of a teacher this ex-Auror would be.
"So– straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Eyes went to the girl in question and Dean's eyebrow twitched and he hid a snort as she blushed a faint pink, quickly stuffing what looked like a horoscope back into her bag. Several eyes appraised Moody, impressed that his eye could even see through wood.
"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding law?" he asked them all, his voice echoing in the silence of the classroom.
Hope stiffened in her seat, and Dean clenched a fist under the table, remembering clearly that night a year ago.
"You, Weasley."
Ron glanced at Hope, but she didn't even move. Dean wasn't even sure that she noticed Moody's eye swiveling to watch her, while the other fixed on Ron.
"Er…" Ron gulped nervously. "My dad told me about one...Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes." Moody nodded in agreement. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
He stumped over to his desk and coaxed a large black spider from a glass jar. Ron leaned back quickly once he saw what it was that Moody was bringing out of the jar, his eyes wide. Moody moved around his desk so that he was standing in front of all of them, as he had been before, holding the spider still in his hand before muttering "Imperio!"
The class watched in fascination as the spider spun through the air, doing a series of acrobatics that it would have never been able to of its own free will. It did a few twists like a ballerina before doing a series of cartwheels, and then a tap dance.
The others in the class thought it was funny, but Dean couldn't help but think that there was a reason it was one of the most punishable curses.
"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody demanded of them, the blue eye swirling around oddly in its socket. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The silence that fell was rather abrupt, and Dean swallowed thickly.
"Total control," Moody said in a low voice, but there was no way to miss what he said. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
Seamus gagged slightly beside Dean.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," Moody said and Dean didn't have to guess to know it was about the War. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
Everyone jumped at the last two words as Moody replaced the spider into the jar.
"Anyone else know one?" He growled out. "Another illegal curse?"
There weren't many hands that went up this time, in fact, there were only two: Hermione and Neville. But it was Neville that surprised Dean more. He rarely volunteered to answer questions in class outside of Herbology, so him raising a hand in DADA? That was surprising, and Neville himself was shocked at his own daring and absolutely pale.
"Yes?"
"There's," Neville's voice faded a little before he barreled on, "There's one– the Cruciatus Curse."
He couldn't be sure if Neville was aware of how many eyes were on him, including both of Moody's. "Your name's Longbottom?"
He gave a jerky nod, his face somber, why, Dean couldn't figure out.
"The Cruciatus Curse," Moody said, as he placed a second spider on the desk, "needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea." He pointed his wand at a spider a second time. "Engorgio!"
The spider bulged, looking almost as if it had eaten too much, that is, if the rest of him hadn't grown with the stomach as well, only stopping once it was the approximate size of a tarantula. Ron wasn't the only one scrambling away from the spider.
Hope hadn't moved an inch.
"Crucio!"
Hope flinched and Dean could see how her knuckles turned white. Dean watched, horrified, as the spider's legs bent inwards, and then it rolled and twitched. Then it began to jerk more violently and Dean looked immediately to Neville. What little color he had was now gone and he looked almost as if he was in genuine pain watching that spider.
"Stop it!" Hope snapped, slamming her hands into the desk as she stood, furiously glaring at Moody. "Stop it! Can't you see what you're doing?!"
Moody looked up and both eyes rested on her, before switching to Neville, who she was still staring at, only just now relaxing now that the spell had stopped.
Moody picked up the spider and stumped over to where Hope was, making her recoil a little as he dropped it before her on her desk.
"Pain," he said quietly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was very popular once too…Miss Potter, being the only one to survive this spell, twice, even, perhaps you want to give us the last curse?"
Dean swallowed thickly, trying not to think of the flash of green, and Hope didn't look much better. The color had fled from her cheeks and she wordlessly refused to say it out loud.
He had never even heard the incantation, or even known what it was called, but he didn't need to when Hermione offered the quiet answer, there was no mistaking it; the Avada Kedavra.
"Ah," Moody gave a wry smile, agreeing. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra…the Killing Curse."
Without any warning, he raised his wand and pointed it at the spider cowering on Hope's desk. "Avada Kedavra!"
Hope flinched violently at the flash of green, but that was nothing compared to Dean who turned ashen and stood to exit the room immediately, bile rising in his throat.
He thought he heard someone calling his name, but he walked quickly into the nearest lavatory, upending his breakfast into the first available toilet. He slid onto the floor, sitting there for the longest time, unable to hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears.
When his legs no longer shook too much to hold him, his stood, flushed the toilet, rinsed out his mouth, and splashed cold water in his face, looking at his face in the mirror.
His brow was unmarred and smooth, nothing like Hope's.
"I moved."
Dean turned around wildly to see Hope standing there, tired and still pale, but looking better than she had in the classroom. It seemed redundant to point out to her that she was in the boy's lavatory.
"I saw it coming," she said, seeing his brief confusion. "It was going to hit you, so…I moved."
"You m—why?" Dean gaped. "It's supposed to kill people! Why would you—?"
"It's not like there was a lot of time to think about it!" Patches of pink appeared on her cheeks, her words flustered. "Besides, better me than you."
"No, not better you than me!" Dean snapped furiously. "God, you're so—"
There was a sudden clearing of a throat and they both looked back to see Cassius Warrington, the broad-shouldered sixth-year Slytherin Chaser that Dean wasn't sure he'd ever hear speak.
"Potter," he rumbled.
Hope quirked a petulant eyebrow. "Cassius."
The look he gave her was so unimpressed that Dean wondered if they'd actually spoken. "This is the men's lavatory."
"Thank goodness you pointed that out," Hope replied, "I'll have to keep my eye out for any."
Warrington heaved a heavy sigh and strode past her and Hope smirked, before continuing their conversation. "So, you're saying I should've let you die? Yeah, that sounds like something I would do."
"You didn't even know if you could've survived it!" Dean growled through gritted teeth.
"No," Hope agreed, "but apparently I don't place as much value on my own life as I do on others." She shrugged helplessly. "Depression," she said as way of an explanation.
Dean sighed heavily, wiping his face and allowing Hope to drag him out of lavatory before anyone else came wandering in.
"I love you, Dean," Hope promised, "and as your sister, it's my job to keep you safe."
"I don't think it works like that," Dean tried to point out, but Hope had already stepped forward to wind her arms around him, and Dean relented, hugging her back. She was so much shorter than him now that it was hard to remember when they'd first met that they'd been the same height.
When Hope drew back, it was to hand him a flask.
Dean stared at it blankly. "Who gave you access to alcohol?" Hope was a trip all by herself that adding alcohol just seemed like a bad idea.
She winked. "Quinn got me the flask."
"Oh, course they did," Dean sighed, taking a swig before staring at her as she cackled. "This is pomegranate tea…you mother fucker."
Hope's grin was positively demonic.
"You and George are perfect for each other," Dean decided. "You're both beings of chaos."
Hope tucked an arm through his, still laughing.
Hope was dozing softly against the couch when George finally sat down beside her that evening. Her books were piled on the floor close to her feet and her picture album was open on her lap, a worn piece of parchment folded under her hand. George had seen the suspicious glance she had given him earlier in the evening when she saw him and Fred whispering together. George wanted to tell her about what they were doing more than anything, but it would be better if she didn't get involved. Ludo Bagman had already proven to be quite capable of remorselessly stealing money off of minors and George hadn't been blind to the way he had eyed his girlfriend at the Cup, no doubt thinking of how much money he could con off her.
Very gingerly, he pulled the bit of parchment from her grasp to read the hastily scrawled words:
Hope- I'm flying north immediately. There have been a strange series of rumors that have reached me here, and if anything happens, I want you to go to Dumbledore. They're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Hope.
Sirius
George knew startlingly very little about Hope's godfather, apart from the fact that he evidently didn't like George very much, something Hope always said was hypocritical, given how much trouble he and her father had gotten up to in school.
"I think it might be that I'm dating you," George had pointed out.
"Ah, yeah, that'll do it," Hope had conceded.
At least Nath liked George, so there was hope, he supposed. Hope was always dropping hints that he wanted to meet George, which would be nothing short of terrifying, George was certain, but their schedules hadn't lined up thus far.
But he did know that Sirius Black was innocent of the crimes he'd been convicted of, because there was no way Hope would love him, let alone trust him, if he'd actually been the reason behind her parents' deaths.
"Hope?"
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, pressing a kiss to the edge of her temple, along one of the lightning bolts carved into her brow.
"Mm, George," Hope murmured, not totally awake yet. "This is a nice dream."
George couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah?"
He got just a hint of her currently hazel eyes right before he leaned down to capture her lips in a short kiss. But when he leaned back, she leaned forward, pulling him down for a few brief seconds, before reluctantly parting, laying back, her hair pooling around her, smiling sleepily up at him.
It was the kind of look that George wanted to wake up to every day until they were old and weak.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Hope hummed, carding her fingers through his hair the way he liked it.
"You," he said honestly and Hope scoffed with a flush tainting her cheeks before she pushed him back slightly and George got a look at her books. "Hitting the books hard, love?"
Hope rolled her eyes. "Gotta have something to do on sleepless nights, right?" she asked.
"That's like…every night," George said, his brow furrowed. "Love, I can brew you a dreamless sleep potion—"
"No," Hope said quickly, eyes startled, "no, none of that." She took a deep breath, taking his hands. "I love that you'd want to do that for me…but I can't. They gave me so much pain meds when I was in the hospital after my accident that it knocked me out and…it's worse being stuck in your own head when you can't get out."
George's eyes softened. "If there's anything I can do…you'll tell me, right?"
"Yeah," Hope said immediately. "Of course."
She still hadn't told him what it was that had made her miss the first day of class or why she'd been so…sorrowful afterwards, but George didn't tell her everything, so she didn't need to tell him everything.
"Get some sleep for me, baby, okay?" Hope smiled, kissing his cheek.
"One of us has to, I suppose," George mused and she gave a small laugh.
Hope had always found it difficult to focus in class, everything was so much harder for her to understand -barring Arithmancy, of course, you couldn't really go wrong with math- but it was a relief to know that there was actually something wrong with her that made wand-magic hard to grasp, not that it made it any better. But Sylvar's death still hung over Hope like a shroud and knowing that Sirius was heading north made matters worse.
She barely had time to fold Sirius' letter and stuff it into her Transfiguration book before the bell rang signaling the end of class.
"Miss Potter, a moment please."
Hope sighed, ushering her friends on ahead of her to Defense Against the Dark Arts while she stayed behind for a word.
"You've been a little distracted these past few weeks," Professor McGonagall noticed. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Hope fought not to grimace, trying not to think of everything that was on her mind, but…there was a lot.
"No," she said, feeling very much like when she had been twelve and Dumbledore had asked her pretty much the same question, "I'm just getting used to the workload again is all, Professor, I'm fine."
Professor McGonagall eyed her suspiciously for a few moments, but then she conceded. Hope had, after all, inherited the stubbornness of both of her parents. She wrote out a note for her to give to Moody and sent her on her way.
The first thing she heard when she entered the classroom was Hermione's voice, filled with anxiety. "But– but you said its illegal, Professor. You said– to use it against another human was—"
"He's putting us under the Imperius," Ron told her in a low whisper as she eased over to where they were standing, dropping her bag next to the wall like everyone else had, standing aside so that Moody could clear the room of desks.
Hope frowned slightly as she took her slip up to the scarred man who grunted in acknowledgement, quickly returning to her spot beside Ron.
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," he said, giving Hermione an unnerving stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way– when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely– fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
Hermione flushed, but she fell abruptly silent as the first student was called forward to have the curse cast upon them. In retrospect, Hope knew that having the Imperius placed upon you would make you more likely to be able to combat it at a later date, and you'd be able to recognize the signs if you saw it, but the idea of someone having total control over her…it left a bad aftertaste.
Moody's requests were a bit mild, she had to admit, and she was grateful. She watched as Parvati sang first soprano, Dean hopped around the room singing Britain's national anthem off-key, Lavender did an impressive imitation of a squirrel, and Neville did some acrobatics that he should never have been capable of.
"Potter, you next."
Hope leaned off of the wall to make her way to the center, well aware of the whispers that had begun now that she was going to have her shot. She barely had time to tense her body before Moody jabbed his wand at her.
"Imperio!"
Hope wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but…it kind of felt like she was floating, inexplicably happy for no reason. It felt like a dream…but Hope was accustomed to nightmares and the spell made her feel like there were ants crawling under her skin.
Dance for us…dance…
Her hands uncurled at her side, raising slightly and positioning outwards. Dance…
Why are you listening to him? A voice in her head demanded as she fog just started clear. Her wand slipped slightly in her grasp. That's stupid? Who're you dancing for? You like having people cast spells on you?
Hope winced her eyes shut and opened them wide, trying to shake off the thoughts in her head.
Dance…
She was unaware of the class watching her in fascination as she grasped her head, a massive migraine blooming. She had excellent mental warding thanks to Quinn, so she knew there was no one actually in her head, but the unsettling feeling it gave her had her gripping her wand tight and Hope no longer felt like she was floating.
"Expelliarmus!"
Evidently, she put a little too much power into the spell, because the jet of red light that sent Moody's wand flying also sent him back a few feet. He managed to stay on his feet and was absolutely delighted while Hope's head spun. "Oh, hell—"
"Now, that's more like it! Look at that, you lot!" Moody's voice sounded very loud to her echoing ears. "Potter fought! She fought it, and she beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention– watch her eyes, that's where you see it– very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
Hope wondered who he was referring to, but she cared more about finishing this quickly so that she could head to the hospital wing for a headache potion at the very least…and probably the girls' lavatory to vomit in before she made it up there…
The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone could talk about and the impending arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Personally, Hope couldn't get into it.
"All I'm saying," she said over lunch, "is that if I was creating a tournament like that, I wouldn't've outlawed wandless magic because wouldn't that be the absolute expression of power?"
"Maybe that's why they did?" Hermione asked archly.
"More likely because wandless magic had a bad reputation back then," Ron snorted. "Have you heard people talk about magicians these days? Might as well be in bed with You-Know-Who."
Hope choked on her pumpkin juice and Hermione had to beat her back several times to get her breathing. "Gods," she gasped, "why did you put that image in my brain?"
They both laughed.
"It's a bummer, all right," George's dejected voice floated over to them. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked, leaning towards his older brothers where they were sitting not too far away. Close enough for George to slide against Hope which some days made Ron gag, and though Hope and George might've been domestic, they weren't anywhere close to Fred and Angelina's in-your-face-sappiness, which was a relief.
"Wish you would," Fred said in genuine aggravation and Hope frowned.
"What's a bummer?" Ron pressed on, switching gears to George, but he might as well have just quit because George might've been the nicer, more accommodating twin, but if Fred wasn't talking, George certainly wouldn't be.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," George told him shortly.
"Did you ever ask Professor McGonagall about the tournament?" Hope asked, dragging them away from the clearly one-sided conversation.
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," George said in a mournful manner even as he hooked his ankle under Hope's, tossing a wink her way that had Fred sniggering and Ron groaning. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Ron muttered thoughtfully.
"Probably something very dangerous," Hope said dryly. "Or else they wouldn't've made the limit be seventeen."
"You know, I bet we could do them, Hope. We've done dangerous stuff before..." Ron grinned at her and she rolled her eyes at him for good measure, like she hadn't just been complaining about the wand-magic requirement.
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," Fred said, agreeing with Hope. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"D'you know who the judges are?" Hope asked, surprised.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, looking up from her Arithmancy homework that Hope had already finished, not that Hermione was sour about it or anything, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
"Really?" Hope was staring at her like she had never quite seen anything like her before. "Don't tell me this was in Hogwarts, A History!"
"It is," she admitted, "Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
Hope sighed, pressing a hand over her eyes and trying to block out Hermione as she went on another tangent about house elves. She almost missed Hedwig swooping down to sit before her, nipping sharply at her fingers.
"Ow! Oh, hey Hedwig." She hooted tiredly, holding out leg, on which Hope could see a letter. She took a good chunk of Hope's food when she wasn't looking, but the food seemed to brighten the owl who took flight immediately afterwards.
Hope grimaced, seeing that it was in Sirius' handwriting. She had sent him a letter a few weeks back that had told him that she had everything under control and she didn't want him risking his life and safety by coming back, but clearly, he hadn't taken the bait.
Nice try, Hope.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself.
Sirius
She folded it up and placed it in her pocket after showing it to Hermione and Ron who shared a glance of worry before sinking mournfully into her lunch.
The arrival of the two schools had been impressive to say the least. Beauxbatons had come in a carriage pulled by winged Abraxans, dragged through the sky, while Durmstrang had literally popped right out of the Black Lake. Of course, Hope didn't doubt that they were trying to show off. It didn't help that Durmstrang had Victor Krum still as a student, as Ron had noticed in unabashed awe. But it still must've been strange for them, to uproot their life wherever they were to come here for a year.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and –most particularly– guests," Dumbledore said, causing the raucous to settle down almost immediately, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at all of them. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
Hope had to say it. She was rather impressed with the variety of the food the house elves had cooked up. There were the usual British and Irish treats that they almost always had -usually only changing on special holidays-, but there were a new number of foreign foods that Hope was more than happy to put on her plate. She tried what looked like braised chicken and something that looked an awful lot like lamb, both which were cooked to perfection, before pulling a bowl towards her, spooning into it what looked like shellfish stew.
"What's that?" Ron asked her, leaning forward to scrutinize it closely.
"No idea, but it looks really good."
"Bouillabaisse," Hermione supplied, to which Ron said, "Bless you."
She gave him a filthy look for his trouble. "It's French," she said, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."
Hope sipped it, testing the taste, and she couldn't find anything to complain about; French food was pretty good.
"I'll take your word for it." Ron, however, stuck with the usual, spooning black pudding onto his plate.
"Excuse me, are you done with ze bouillabaisse?"
Hope raised her eyes to the girl who had spoken, struck briefly. She was uncommonly beautiful with hair so blonde that it was nearly silver and eyes impossibly blue.
The girl, in return, stared at Hope, in surprise and confusion. "Excusez-moi," she apologized quickly, "zis might be…imploi? But what are you?"
"Excuse me?" Hope's eyebrows rose and she hit Ron in the shoulder when she noticed he'd been staring too long. "Human, the last time I checked."
The girl furrowed her brow. "Are you? You don't look eet."
"Uh…thanks?" Hope replied awkwardly and the girl finally held out a hand, smiling broadly.
"Fleur Delacour," she said.
"Enchanté," Hope said simply. "I'm Hope, these are my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." She pointed them each out in turn.
"Enchanté," Hermione said, Ron echoing her, before asking kindly. "Would you like to join us?"
It wasn't hard to notice the stares their little group was getting.
Fleur glanced back towards the Beauxbaton's lot over at the Ravenclaw table, but they didn't seem to notice she had gone. As she turned back, she sighed heavily.
"I would love to."
And she sat easily, helping herself to the shellfish soup.
Fleur had only just finished telling them at Beauxbatons was more of a school for academics than for sports, leaving Ron stunned that anyone would want to go to a school that didn't have Quidditch when Dumbledore called for quiet once more.
"The moment has come." Dumbledore smiled at all of them. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation—" He gestured to the man that had destroyed Sirius' life and Hope huffed in annoyance, dropping her head into her hand. "—and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." The boyish-faced man beamed at them all as they applauded, waving wildly. "Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
Dumbledore must have realized now that all of the attention was on him, but he paid them no heed, turning instead to Filch. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
They all watched attentively as the caretaker approached carrying a wooden chest. Hope had never seen anything like it…the wood was intricately carved and there were glittering jewels melded into the wood.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge." Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles reflected the light of the torches. "There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowess– their daring –their powers of deduction –and, of course, their ability to cope with danger. As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Hope watched in silence as he removed a roughly carved wooden cup that was large enough to be Dumbledore's height when resting on top of the chest it had been inside. She couldn't help but stare with the rest when blue and white flames burst forth, filling the cup to the brim, flickering above it in the open air.
Dumbledore tapped a wrinkled hand against its base, saying clearly to the rest of them: "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete." Excited whispers sprung forth at his words. "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
"Are you going to enter?" Hope asked Fleur, scrutinizing her. "Are you seventeen? You look seventeen."
"I am, to both," Fleur said, smiling.
"Good luck," said Ron, completely serious, "my older brothers are going to try to fool the Age Line into thinking they're a few months older."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not going to work, is it?"
"We can laugh at their misfortune," Hope said with a grin, winking at George as he pulled her out of her seat by both of her hands. "Hey, baby."
Ron made a groaning noise and Fleur arched a pale eyebrow.
"That's George Weasley," Hermione supplied for her. "He and Hope have been dating since last year; Ron thinks they're too sappy."
"How would you feel if your friend was snogging your brother?" Ron grumbled mutinously at her side.
Fleur had to stifle a giggle at that.
"Oh, and Fleur, we can give you the grand tour tomorrow if you like," Hope said, dragging her attention away from her boyfriend temporarily.
"Zhat would be lovely," Fleur said in her throaty voice, grateful for the kindness the three had shown her. They had no way of knowing that she was very much an outcast in Beauxbatons with her Veela blood. She was quite grateful for their companionship, even if her Allure annoyed Hermione a little and made Ron slightly dazed.
She would be writing home later to her Maman and Papa and little Gabrielle telling them of how she was now looking forward to the year ahead with very much excitement.
"The Astronomy Tower's got the best view," Hope said, sparing Fleur a smile as the older girl trailed after them, taking in as much as she could as they ascended up until they were standing outside with nothing but the wind and the sky. "Of course, it's much better at night; it's the best place to stargaze from—"
"And we all know how often you do that," Ron said, rolling his eyes slightly.
Hope looked affronted at his comment. "I will have you know that I haven't star-gazed at all this term!" The yet was silent.
"Which is astonishing by itself," Hermione told Fleur who gave a short laugh as Hope said in a voice of indignation "Oi!"
"Well, that's probably everything," Hope admitted once they were back inside, "well, obviously not everything. I mean, it's not like we know where everything is in Hogwarts…Fred and George probably know more, they know everything about Hogwarts, secret passages and all that."
Hermione burst into giggles at the mention of the Weasley twins.
"What?" Hope and Ron asked flummoxed.
"I suppose you didn't go down to the Great Hall for early for breakfast, then?" Hermione said, her lips twitching. "After the Durmstrang students put their names into the goblet, Fred and George tried to enter using an Aging Potion."
"How much did it backfire?" Hope asked in delight, her imagination running wild.
"They had rather impressive white beards, I have to say."
Hope and Ron positively howled with laughter, startling a few stray students as they passed them by.
"Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley!"
"S'not our fault, Professor!" Hope gasped, hardly recovered from her fit. "It's Hermione's fault!"
Hermione shot them a glare while Fleur watched on in obvious amusement. "I was just telling them about what happened to Fred and George when they tried to cross the Age Line, Professor," she said calmly.
Professor McGonagall resisted smiling, but only just. "Ah, yes, I've heard they are now clean-shaven, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey."
"That's good," Hope said, finally having calmed down a bit to introduce their new friend, "this is Fleur Delacour, by the way, from Beauxbatons. Fleur, this is our Transfiguration professor, Professor McGonagall."
"How are you enjoying your stay, Miss Delacour?" Professor McGonagall asked kindly.
"Eet iz…'ow do you say eet?" She glanced to Hope for help.
"Fascinant?" Hope offered helpfully. Her French was incredibly basic.
"Oui," Fleur said smiling, "I 'ave never seen anyzing like eet."
"I'm glad," Professor McGonagall said honestly.
"Zhank you for ze tour," she told the three, "I 'ave to get back to Madam Maxime, but may I join you for déjeuner?"
"I'm sure Ron and Hermione won't mind, but I'm stepping out," Hope said, checking her watch. She was the one among them dressed for the chilly weather.
Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding, though Fleur frowned in confusion as she ran off to meet up with a tall boy with dark skin who gave her a faint smile.
"It's Halloween," Hermione explained, noticing Fleur's confusion. "Hope never does anything on Halloween…it was when her parents were killed. She probably won't even come to dinner to find out about the champions."
"Oh," Fleur couldn't help but be disheartened, but it was understandable. It hadn't been hard to figure out Hope was Hope Potter -the scar was a dead giveaway- and if Fleur's parents had both been killed on a specific day, she'd want as little to do with it as possible.
"So, what's this one do?"
"I mean, it's not really complete yet," Hope grumbled as they walked down the street. Quinn had picked them up from Hogwarts very early, so Hope and Dean spent the day lazing around, watching Star Wars whilst doing their own thing -Dean sketching and Hope working and reworking equations. "It's supposed to be a kind of teleportation, like creating a portal between to places…like a mirror bridge without the bridge, but I can't get the equations to work right…"
She rolled her eyes, taking the journal from him and stuffing it into her pocket.
"Sounds like someone's salty about not being able to flash places…" Dean whistled an innocent tune and Hope gave him a dry look.
"No one uses flashing anymore because its half-made, Salazar Slytherin never got to fully complete it in the first place, which is why continent jumping isn't recommended—" Not that that hadn't stopped her from using it in the first place…
"Though I'm sure having a nightmare about the forbidden forest and ending up there isn't the best thing," Dean snorted before falling silent as they came to the gate that led into Godric Hallow's cemetery.
Hope breathed out a shaky breath, tightening her grip on the bouquet of blue irises that Quinn had twisted out of nothing before heading off.
"You okay?" Dean asked quietly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Hope said quickly, looping her arm through his as they began the walk through. "Just, um…never seen where they were buried…just—"
"Just where they were killed?"
"Yeah," Hope whispered, walking side by side with him. She thought she caught sight of the name 'Peverell' the name that had been on her admittance paperwork at Brakebills, but it wasn't the time to look.
"Potter! There it is!"
Hope allowed Dean to drag her forward before a slab of white marble, bold and clear even in the relative darkness, their names side by side, as they undoubtedly lay under the frosted grass.
JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER
BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960
DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981
"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live," Hope read out, her voice choking, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Gods…that's so like…"
"You," Dean nudged her shoulder and she smiled faintly, rubbing at her eyes. "Sounds like you, not fearing death and all."
Hope sucked on her bottom lip before leaning down to place the flowers gently against the gravestone.
There was a large groan. "Ugh. I thought you'd never show! Do you know how long I've been waiting in this graveyard?"
Hope jolted, standing swiftly to stare at a woman sitting on a gravestone directly behind her parents'. She was dressed in leather armor bearing a triple spiral, vambraces on her arms, a pair of swords strapped to her back. But it was the sight of the straight black hair pulled back, the ears that came to a point, and the incredibly familiar face that choked Hope up.
"Sylvar," she gasped and the woman smirked. She had to've been the one Hope had seen outside the Thomas' window; Sylvar never dressed like that, like she was ready for a battle.
"Not quite."
Hope reached behind her and Dean blinked and she'd flung a knife right at the woman's face. Unfortunately, she snatched it easily out of the air.
"Nice aim," she said, before throwing it back.
Hope barely caught it, her expression stony. "My godfather taught me."
"Nathaniel Lord," the woman hummed, "and odd alias for someone like him, but who am I to judge?"
Hope glared. "You're wearing my friend's face, but you're not her…she's been dead since September."
Dean started in surprise, looking from Hope to the woman and back.
She smiled thinly. "This is actually my face, there is such a thing as identical twins, you know."
Hope scoffed, not bothering to point out she was, in fact, dating an identical twin, pointing the abalone knife at her. "People tend to talk about their twins…funny thing is, Sylvar never mentioned you."
The woman stood. "She wouldn't. We parted on bad terms, and by that, I mean she massively screwed up and died and I wanted nothing to do with her…but that was centuries ago."
Hope glowered. "No, she died in September! I snuck out of school to check on her and—" She swallowed thickly, blinking furiously. "By the time I got there, she was already d-dead!"
Everything about her behavior the past month suddenly made sense. Dean had been told so many stories about Sylvar when Hope was growing up. "Hope," he said gently, "why didn't you say anything?"
"Probably because her body turned to ash and faded away soon after, right?" The woman quirked an eyebrow. "Difficult to mourn knowing there's no body—"
"That doesn't make it difficult to mourn!" Hope snarled.
"Uh, kinda does," the woman retorted. "I told you, she died centuries ago, she fell asleep while on guard duty and three hundred and twelve lives were lost because of it, what you knew…was a soul bonded to living flesh…she only existed as Sylvar Doran, owner of the Feywild Café, because you needed protecting, honestly, you still do, but there's only so much interference we can do before others notice."
"Excuse me?" Hope snapped. "I don't need protecting!"
"No offense kid, but you've been killed like…six times, including the basilisk bite—"
"We don't include the basilisk bite," Dean said quickly.
"Yes, we fucking do, shut up," Hope said out of the corner of her mouth.
The woman had such a put-upon look on her face, clearly not used to dealing with children or, indeed, wanting to deal with children. "Look, the point is, no one is that unlucky—"
"I'm cursed," Hope said sarcastically.
"Well, yeah, I kinda got that." She rolled her eyes, missing the double take. "Sylvar was there to keep you alive…but she didn't do the best job."
"Hey! I'm alive!"
She arched an eyebrow. "You were killed when you were ten years old, right outside the café…do you have any idea how furious my lady was about that lapse of judgement? Do you have any idea how mad you have to make her to side with her ex? Talking the pair of them down was a nightmare!" She shivered at the memory.
"And who are you, exactly?" Dean frowned at her. Nothing she was saying was making any sense.
"I'm Selenar," she said, canting her head slightly. "Has anyone said you look uncommonly like your mother? The other one, of course."
Dean stiffened behind Hope. "No," he said frostily.
"Mm, awkward," Selenar grimaced, coughing slightly.
"Why are you here?" Hope demanded finally.
"I'm just the messenger," Selenar told her, her eyes fixing on Hope and they were so very old. "I come on behalf of the goddess Morrigan. She knows of your suffering and your loss and what destiny the humans believe is yours, but we know you will not survive long enough to see it if you continue on your current trajectory."
Hope's tongue went dry in her throat, and she raised a hand to press to the center of her chest, trying not to think about everything Professor Lipson had said about forcing a magic core inside a person.
"Someone wants you to play a very specific part, one that requires you to have magic."
"Why does she care?" Hope said finally, eyes bright. "Like you said, I've died several times…what's one more death?"
She couldn't see the concern in Dean's eyes.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you're still alive," Selenar mused thoughtfully, considering her like her thoughts about her own demise weren't concerning and probably should've sent her off to a good shrink, "you must burn through an insane amount of blood."
"What are you talking about?" Hope demanded, twitching uncomfortably, not liking how well Selenar seemed to know her despite knowing very little about her, personally.
"I'm talking about how your magical core is infecting your whole body," Selenar arched an eyebrow and Dean balked in surprise. "No wonder you've felt so weak lately...the symptoms are only going to get worse, but we can fix it by removing your magical core."
Hope, who had talked extensively with Professor Lipson about it said, "Yeah, you totally look like you have the juice for that."
Selenar smirked faintly. "Not me. A god could, though."
"No, thanks," Hope said, thinking of how Quinn said Diane's ex was a god that she'd made a deal with, "I'll figure out how to fix this myself."
"You won't," Selenar replied without a doubt. "Your father could've told you that."
You could've heard crickets in the stilted silence that followed.
"What would you know about my father?" Hope asked carefully through gritted teeth.
And from Selenar's cloak, she withdrew an odd sort of bottle, laced into leather, holding it out to her. "Would you like to know?"
Hope glowered, taking Dean's hand. "Come on, Dean, we're leaving."
She didn't see Selenar snap, but the next second she and Dean had tripped and found themselves on the floor of the Great Hall.
Selenar leaned over Hope where she was lying on her back, neither acknowledging the attention and the muttering at the sight of the three of them. "Just take the damn bottle."
"No," Hope said, not caring how petulant she sounded. Besides, what was a bottle going to tell her about her father? And, even more important, what was it going to do to help her current situation?
"Why not?" Selenar demanded aggrieved.
"Because you want me to," Hope bared her teeth, "I like being a problem."
"You're an impertinent brat, is what you are," Selenar complained with a huff of annoyance, pocketing the bottle. "I'll be seeing you, daughter of Oath-Breaker…much sooner than you think."
"Looking forward to it," Hope groaned, and then she was gone, leaving Hope to roll onto her stomach and push off the ground, helping drag Dean upright. "Is it just me or is everyone staring at me?"
Dean looked around, and sure enough, they were certainly being goggled at.
"I don't think that totally has to do with being dropped off by some Sylvar-lookalike," Hope said slowly.
Seamus, who happened to be the closest, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, Hope…your name came out of the goblet."
Immediately, Hope burst into laughter. "Good one!" she wiped the tears from her eyes, before pausing, her smile falling. "Wait, you're serious?" She gaped briefly. "You know, I reckon I was right about being cursed."
"I thought you were being sarcastic!" Dean exploded, eyes startled as they fixed on her.
"I was! I am!" Hope retorted hotly. "But c'mon! No one's as unlucky as me, you gotta be serious."
Dean smacked his hand to his brow, just looking at Hope out of the corner of his eye and Hope gave a helpless shrug with the faintest half-smile that faded when they were both approached by the ministry man Dean was sure was named Mr. Crouch.
"Miss Potter," Mr. Crouch cleared his throat loudly, extending a piece of parchment. "This is your name, is it not?"
Hope arched an eyebrow, taking the parchment carefully. "It's not my handwriting," she said, "and it's not how I sign my name."
Hope rarely wrote her last name down on assignments; it wasn't like there was another Hope to confuse her with.
"And how do you write your name?" Mr. Crouch asked archly and Hope didn't like the tone.
She thought of how she signed her name 'Marina Thomas' to those official documents at Brakebills. "Not like that," she said finally, scowling deeply at her name. "Is this your idea of a cruel joke, Mr. Crouch?"
"Why would it be mine?" Mr. Crouch was vaguely startled and turned positively white when Hope shifted her appearance to that of a boy with straw-blond hair and freckles.
"Am I making you uncomfortable, Mr. Crouch?" Hope said coolly. "Imagine how uncomfortable it was to find out that you gave your own son, a Death Eater with a Dark Mark, a trial and not Sirius Black, a man who bore no Dark Mark and was only tied to Death Eaters by his relations despite being cast out by his Pure-blood-fanatic family years before."
Hermione and Ron breathed in sharply at the end of the table. They'd never quite seen Hope angrily explode, but they were very familiar with the quiet rage that bubbled underneath and somehow it was worse than an explosion.
"Yes, I would be uncomfortable too if someone shoved my inadequacies in my face…but then again, I wouldn't've sent an innocent man to prison without checking first." Hope smiled and it was anything but kind.
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
"Henry," she said, "would you mind passing the phone to your lovely husband?...Hello, Kingsley, I need some advice, because apparently your government is okay with me getting murdered—"
"Now, hang on—" Mr. Crouch sputtered as Hope's appearance shifted back and gave him an icy glare.
"I'm on the phone and you're interrupting," she snapped, before replying to whoever was on the other end. "Yeah, I can meet, gimme half an hour and I'll be there." She shut it and tucked it into her back pocket. "Fuck you," she said decisively before turning around and taking the steps two at a time until she disappeared.
Ron watched her go, frowning. Maybe if he hadn't known Hope as well, he would've thought Hope would've put her name in…but Hope was struggling enough as it was and she hated being forced to use wand-magic and only wand-magic ("Give me blood runes and magician poppers any day," Hope grumbled); besides, she didn't have the skill to get past something like the Goblet of Fire.
Hope might've been a genius in spell creation, but she didn't read ahead on wand-magic unless forced.
"Morea's chamber?" Hermione asked quietly as chaos erupted.
"Morea's chamber," Ron agreed heavily.
"Can I legally murder someone? Please?"
Kingsley smiled faintly at Hope, wearing the familiar face of Marina Thomas, as she sat across from him at the Three Broomsticks. "I feel you might be asking the wrong person."
Hope grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "Fuckin' cops," before lifting her head to fix dark eyes on him. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"
"Unfortunately," Kingsley grimaced. "The Goblet of Fire spitting out your name isn't something you can get out of…it's a—"
"Magically-binding contract," Hope grumbled. "Yeah, yeah…even if I didn't put my name in?"
"Even then."
"Ugh!" Hope groaned before pulling his firewhisky towards her, taking a swallow and grimacing. "God, that burns, why on earth are Fred and George so gung-ho about it?"
Kingsley chuckled faintly. "I think the bigger issue right now is that—"
"I'm like three years short on experience with spells?" Hope aske dryly.
"Yes, that."
Hope sighed heavily. "When's even the first task?" She wasn't sure anyone in charge had actually said when it was…or maybe that had been the blood in her ears…
"Near the end of November, I heard," Kingsley hummed into his drink and Hope ground out a loud "Fuck!"
"I have less than a month to learn like…three years of spells and curses?" Hope complained. "I'm gonna die for sure!"
"Well, that does seem to be the plan," Kingsley mused. "I would see about being able to skip some classes while you're trying not to die."
"No way will McGonagall go for that."
Kingsley remembered McGonagall from when he'd been in school, but he had a good idea that she actually wanted her student to survive. "I could talk to her for you."
"You would?" Hope lifted her head in startled surprise.
It was easy to forget when she aged up her appearance that Marina Thomas was actually Hope Potter a fourteen-year-old witch who was probably terrified on the inside. And Henry adored her, and Kingsley knew his husband was counting down the years until he had Marina Thomas' brilliance completely within his school (and possibly in his same discipline, if Adiyodi was to be believed).
"Take a breather, Mari," Kingsley suggested. "I'll talk with her."
And Hope positively sagged.
Hope did not, in fact, make it back to Morea's chamber. After parting ways with Kingsley, who'd managed to negotiate in such a way that Hope had known instantly that when he'd been in school, he'd been a Slytherin, into Hope only having to physically be in Potions and Herbology -because really there was no getting out of the two hands on classes, but Hope had held out a hope- and sticking to completing homework as assigned.
"I want to hear that you're working hard, Potter," Professor McGonagall had told her seriously, face pale and tired and so very worried.
Hope hadn't trusted her own voice, so she'd merely nodded while Kingsley patted her shoulder kindly and headed back to Greece, where his husband was undoubtedly waiting to hear why he'd rushed out of the house at Marina Thomas' call.
So, Hope had continued to the seventh floor and promptly had a panic attack.
How on earth was she supposed to do this? Kingsley had faith but Hope sure as fuck did not. Hope rubbed a hand across her throat where the thin scar was, trying to regulate her breathing.
She must've walked the length of the corridor three or four times when she noticed the door, exactly the spot where it had been last year when she'd decided swords weren't for her. She paused, too surprised to continue to panic, pushing the door open slightly and peering inside.
It was definitely a different room, full of books and chairs and targets. Hope trailed her fingers over the spines. A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions...The Dark Arts Outsmarted...Self-Defensive Spellwork...well, might as well start studying…
No one saw Hope for the rest of the weekend, not for lack of trying. If George was worried, then Ron and Hermione were past that to flat-out concerned. But none of them were exactly sure where Hope had stuffed the Marauder's Map -probably with everything else that Hope owned, but her bed had been made and her trunk gone by the time Hermione had woken up after staying late into the night in Morea's room waiting for her to show, but she never did- and Hope was very good about remaining unseen.
Meanwhile, rumors were flying, and not the good kind. Somehow, Hope's name was back to being mud, which was the most aggravating thing, because Hope had clearly said that she didn't put her name in, that it wasn't even her hand writing, but the fact was, she still had an opportunity that others would've killed for.
And she'd taken the limelight away from Cedric, the actual Hogwarts champion, and the Hufflepuffs were incensed.
Fleur, at least, was understanding. Hope was very open about her anti-wand-magic sentiments, but Fleur had to prepare for the first task too.
Ron and Hermione didn't see any hint of Hope in Transfiguration or Charms or Arithmancy…in fact, they didn't see her until Tuesday, in Herbology, looking tired and pale and not smiling. Ron saw her first and surprised her by throwing his arms around her, Hermione following quickly and Hope blinked, patting their backs kindly.
"Where've you been?" Hermione demanded.
"Studying," was all Hope would say, teetering slightly on her feet, before the lesson began.
It was incredibly awkward, and the hatred was palpable from the Hufflepuff side, but at least the Gryffindors had decided to rally, so Hope found herself working alongside Ron, Hermione, and Dean instead of Justin Finch-Fletchley.
It was all well and good, until Ron snapped suddenly "Hey!" and Hermione gasped as he and Dean just managed to catch Hope as she careened sideways in a dead faint.
("Good riddance," Ernie muttered on the opposite side, making Hannah dig her elbow into his side, annoyed)
"Miss Potter!" Professor Sprout just barely managed to revive her as everyone peered over her limp body. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Uh…whatever sandwich Dean forced me to," Hope replied tiredly.
Dean gaped. "Hope…that was like four days ago!"
"I'm trying not to get murdered," Hope slurred, "I've got shit to do."
Professor Sprout sighed heavily. "Mr. Weasley, would you mind taking your friend up to Madam—?"
"No!" Hope snapped, her eyes shooting open. "I'm fine, I can do this." She still used Ron's shoulder to pull her upright. "I don't need anyone to make allowances for me…I'm here to work."
And if there was one thing Hufflepuffs prized, it was determination and hard work.
Professor Sprout considered her, less frostily than she had before. "All right…if you faint again, though, you've got a one-way ticket to Madam Pomfrey."
Hope nodded seriously, managing to stay with it enough to get through the class to see George waiting for her outside, carrying a container of food, like he'd known that was what she needed.
"Baby, you're the best," Hope vowed, kissing one of George's pink cheeks soundly. They both ignored the kissy-noises her classmates made.
Hermione cleared her throat before Hope and George could get lost in each other's eyes -per usual. "We'll talk to you later, Hope…Morea's chamber?"
Hope blinked, drawing back slightly from melting into George's arms. "Yeah, all right," she decided, mentally counting the number of hours she had left to study before then.
She allowed George to coax her into sitting on a nearby bench, watching her practically devour the shepherd's pie.
"I may have forgotten to eat much the past few days," she admitted thickly, watching the concern bloom across his face. "I'm all right, I'm just trying to cram my brain with spells before the first task." Which was hard enough when you were trying to limit the amount of magic you used so you didn't end up vomiting up blood, but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone, not even Dean, who was having enough suspicions about her after what Selenar had said.
"Are you going to keep forgetting to eat?" he asked quietly and Hope paused, thinking about how light-headed she'd been in class.
"Probably not," she admitted. "It's a bit…counterproductive."
George snorted faintly. "You don't say?"
Hope rolled her eyes, swallowing the last of the food. "Don't you have class this hour?"
"I skipped." George shrugged, shooting her a look. "I stopped by McGonagall's…she told me about how you're doing most of your classes out of class while you, uh, prepare for the tournament."
"Yeah," Hope groaned. "I'm have a grand 'ole time."
George didn't smile. "Love." He took her hands, making her turn towards him. "Do you want me to leave you alone for a while…so I don't distract while you prepare?"
"You are pretty distracting," Hope admitted with pink cheeks, to which he grinned. "Oh, shut up…you and your eyes and freckles and freaking tallness—"
"You like all of those things." George's eyes were glittering and Hope turned red.
"What? Me? Psh!" She flicked a hand, laughing airily before giving it up halfway through. "Absolutely." And she grabbed him, dragging into a quick kiss, sighing against his mouth. "You would do that for me?"
"Well, I kind of like having a living girlfriend," George gave her a half-smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and they both fell silent for a moment.
Hope cupped his cheek, giving the opposite one a small kiss. "I love you…keep Fred in trouble, yeah?"
"Always," George promised even as she slipped from his grasp.
How the rumor spread that Hope Potter and George Weasley were either taking a break or had broken up was something else entirely and neither were impressed by people asking them about it or trying to ask them out.
Luckily, Hope was a pariah again and wasn't around nearly as much, so her options were limited, but George had no such luck.
(They were both counting down the days until the first task was done and over with)
Ron and Hermione had been waiting not all that long when Hope's head poked out from behind a tapestry on the back wall.
"Wow," she said, making them jump, "you guys don't waste any time, huh?"
Hermione jumped into it immediately. "Oh, you must be so worried, Hope! What are you doing to prepare? Can we help? Why aren't you in any classes? Who was that woman and how did she get into Hogwarts? Who do you think put you in—?"
Hope took the bowl of soup that Ron had evidently brought just for her, the silent support a breath of relief.
"The woman's name is Selenar," Hope said finally, "apparently she's Sylvar's sister."
Hermione and Ron winced sympathetically, remembering clearly how broken up Hope had been that day…in a lot of ways she still was. Quiet misery that you couldn't always see tended to linger.
"Apparently she works for a god who wanted to make me an offer," Hope shrugged helplessly. "But I'll figure out my problems on my own."
Hermione frowned in confusion, opening her mouth to ask a question, but Ron cut a look her way; Hope wasn't open about many things and he was pretty sure that didn't even rank on the list.
Hope cleared her throat. "I'm not in most classes because someone kindly convinced Professor McGonagall to let me focus more of my time on advanced spells and curses for the first task. I'm still doing homework and stuff, but you won't see me back for…awhile." She scratched her cheek awkwardly. "Sorry."
"Is the task why you've moved your stuff out of Gryffindor Tower?" Ron asked instead. He wasn't allowed up into the girls' dormitory, but he'd heard all about it -Parvati and Lavender weren't quiet- and Hope started in surprise.
"I'd rather not deal with a bloodbath," she said instead, remembering the disdain from her fellow classmates during Herbology. "Besides, it's quieter here."
No one to hear her wake up from her nightmares, more likely.
"How's Dean?" she asked suddenly. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to see him, let alone speak with him, even in Herbology.
"Worried," Ron said, crossing his arms. "Quiet. He'll muddle through."
It was Ron, perhaps more than anyone, who had a full measure of the person Hope was, who didn't need to search for as many answers as Hermione did.
Hazel met blue. "And you?" Hope asked, not quite frowning, but not quite not.
"I'll muddle through," Ron hummed. "We both will…as long as you promise to eat and let us help you if you need it."
Hermione nodded profusely.
She couldn't help but sigh heavily. "You guys are going to hawk me until I agree, aren't you?"
Hermione's smile was too sharp and Ron's eyes too hard. "That's what we do."
But Hope's smile actually reached her eyes.
(Later, Ron Weasley would be able to pinpoint exactly when things began to change, when three school children looked at the lots that had been drawn for them and realized the only trajectory would lead them towards battle)
"Do you know what this meeting is for?" Hope asked Fleur as they descended the stairs, heading for the classroom that they had been told to enter into. She'd been pulled out of Potions not a moment too soon, because another second and Hope was sure she'd snap.
Snape had been more brutal than usual lately and Hope had really tried to get out of his class, but Professor McGonagall had put her foot down, insisting there wasn't a way to skip something that important to her education, like Hope hadn't compiled a list of times he'd failed her for no reason the previous year.
(McGonagall had inherited Dumbledore's unfortunate habit of forgiving too many times)
"No," she said in her throaty voice, watching Hope carefully, and she knew why. Hope had almost exploded only a few hours earlier when Hermione had been hit with a spell that had caused her front teeth to grow past her chin. All because Malfoy had tried to curse Hope behind her back and had missed. "'Ow eez 'Ermione?"
Hope exhaled a long, slow sigh. "Much better than she was before…she had Madam Pomfrey go a little further on her teeth so they're now the size she wants them to be."
"Zhat's good," Fleur said imploringly as they pushed open the door.
"Ah, there they are!" Bagman beamed as they entered, the smile completely encompassing his face. "Champions three and four! In you come, ladies, in you come…nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment—"
"Wand weighing ceremony?" Hope said in confusion. She was so cut-off from almost everyone at this point that it was a miracle she even knew anything about the tournament. "What've we got to have our wands weighed for?"
"Oh, it's nothing like that!" Bagman chortled. "We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead. The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter. She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."
Hope tried not to visibly gag, but she was sure the expression on her face was full of contempt.
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," the witch commented, eyeing Hope in speculation. Hope wasn't sure what she'd been expecting but she didn't think the tight blonde curls, jeweled spectacles, and long red nails was anything close to what she'd imagined.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Hope before we start? The youngest champion, you know...to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" Bagman was eager to agree. "That is –if Hope has no objection?"
"I'm not going near that woman without a knife," Hope said firmly, almost reaching behind her to where the knife Mirror Lady gave her was holstered under glamour, "and I'm certainly not telling you anything."
"Dear," Rita said in a voice that dripped with saccharine, eyes glittering malevolently, clearly not used to rejection, "I'm afraid you don't quite understand the point—"
"You slandered my mother's name months before her wedding," Hope said coldly, "I don't need to understand the point to have standards."
And then she practically steered Fleur to Cedric who had been watching the exchange with interest.
"How are you, Cedric?" Hope asked him loudly. "I haven't heard from you since the school decided to nuke me from orbit."
Cedric gave her an embarrassed smile, vaguely confused by the phrase but not commenting on it. "Uh, hey, Hope, how've you been?"
"Studying enough advanced spells to make my brain bleed and hope I don't die, how about you?" Hope asked dryly.
"Getting there," Cedric admitted before faltering slightly, "look, I'm sorry my house is giving you a hard time, and I can talk to George, you know, about—"
"Thanks," Hope said stiffly, "but I don't think I need anyone else trying to tell me how my love life should be going."
Cedric grimaced and Fleur's eyes flicked between them, feeling the awkward tension. Viktor Krum, who'd been brooding in the corner, gave no indication that he was listening to them conversing until someone cleared their throat.
It had been Dumbledore who was now standing behind what must have been the judges' table, including the people that would evidently be judging the respective champions on what they did in the tasks: himself, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman.
Mr. Crouch wasn't looking too well but Hope couldn't find it in her to care.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore said, smiling at them all. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
She couldn't help but be surprised it was Mr. Ollivander and not someone else that the Ministry employed, like Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman. Of course, there was no denying he knew his craft, if how he remembered each wand he'd ever had was any indication, so it made sense, she supposed.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Mr. Ollivander asked as he stepped into the light, making his pale hair seem much more wild than usual.
Fleur arched a pale eyebrow, but she still moved forward to give him her wand.
He held it gingerly, before winding it in his fingers, pink and gold sparks bursting from the tip. "Ah, yes," he said, intently focused on the wand, "nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…" He sounded very surprised, heightening Hope's curiosity.
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," Fleur explained with a hint of a smile. "One of my grandmuzzer's." So, that would make her only a fourth of a Veela. Hope remembered what they'd been like at the Cup.
"Yes," Mr. Ollivander agreed, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"
"Eet does," she said firmly, her eyes glinting as if daring him to say otherwise.
He hummed in agreement, examining with the tips of his fingers rather briefly before saying an incantation, "Orchideous!" A dozen beautiful orchids burst forth, which he handed to Fleur graciously with her wand. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order. Mr. Diggory, you next…ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?"
He seemed to brighten visibly at the familiarity of a wand of his own creation. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn...must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly?"
Hope arched an eyebrow and stared. When had anyone ever said that they needed to clean their wand? She looked down at her own in the arm holster Sirius had gotten her, but doubted it would have made a difference with its rough texture.
Murmuring a soft spell after Cedric had agreed to his question, Mr. Ollivander jabbed the wand and a number of smoke rings issued from it as though it was a pipe. "It is in good order…Mr. Krum, if you please."
Looking as surly as ever, Viktor Krum shoved his wand at the wand-maker in a get-it-over-with manner.
"Hm," she could hear the awe in his voice as he took it from the Quidditch player, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I...however..." He fell silent briefly as he inspected it. "Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees...quite rigid...ten and a quarter inches...Avis!"
Hope winced at the blast of noise the wand created, which was strange, considering the spell created about seven small birds that fluttered around them before escaping through either the door or the cracked window.
"Good," he said, returning the wand to Viktor, "very good…Which leaves...Miss Potter."
Hope inclined her head as she moved to stand before him, pulling her wand out of the holster and extending it to him. He smiled once her wand was in his hand once more. His fingers automatically roved over its surfaces as if searching for differences from when he'd given it to her to the condition it was in currently; Hope could only hope that it passed inspection.
Mr. Ollivander's eyes gleamed. "Aaaah, yes," he said quietly, "yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Hope remembered it too. She remembered how small and nervous she had been, her rings sliding on her thin fingers. She remembered how she went through over a dozen wands before this one chose her as its master. She had seen the wands in the display cases and the ones she had tried and none of them looked the type for her. In other words, they were too clean cut, too delicately carved, and,well, that wasn't really her style.
She had been more than relieved that the wand that had chosen her more closely resembled a branch that had been roughly and haphazardly carved.
And she remembered clearly the look of surprise on Mr. Ollivander's face when the silver sparks had erupted from its tip. She had asked him about it, of course, and had been shocked to discover that the phoenix tail feather in her wand had come from the same phoenix as Voldemort's. Of course, that was nothing compared to finding out she was actually related to the bastard. She struggled not to shiver; some things people could do without knowing. She had never told anyone about that, she had never felt the need and she wasn't sure that she ever would.
It was just one thing on a list of things she'd probably never tell anyone.
"Cypress," Mr. Ollivander murmured, "eleven inches, phoenix feather core…very resistant…"
Hope frowned as sparks burst from the end, spinning into a dazzling crescent moon.
"In perfect condition," he assured her pressing it into her palm with a kind smile. "Do take care of it, Miss Potter."
"I will," Hope assured him, despite not liking to use her wand, feeling a bit bemused as she watched him go.
"Thank you all." Hope blinked a few times, directing her attention towards Dumbledore as he stood, sweeping around the table, his eyes twinkling. "You may go back to your lessons now –or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—"
Hope was all for that, but then Bagman had to go and bring up the damned photos! Could the day get any worse? Hope silenced a groan at the predatory gleam in Rita Skeeter's eyes.
Probably.
Hermione had gone behind her back and written to Sirius, the traitor. But Hope had a hard time feeling too annoyed when she saw how white Hermione was when she'd tried to explain herself, how terrified she was for Hope. She probably wouldn't have gone to Hermione's parents behind her back if she was worried, though, mostly because she didn't think they liked her as much now.
She'd burst into tears when Hope had hugged her silently and told her it was okay.
Ron had been the one to pass on that Hagrid wanted Hope to meet him at midnight, shrugging helplessly when Hope frowned. But now, Hope felt as though her brain had already turned to mush, whether it was from the sheer amount of studying she was doing, or from seeing the four dragons that they were all going to have to face in just a few days.
(It was the just a few days part that was going to kill her, she just knew it)
She'd left early enough, almost running into Karkaroff on her way out of the forest, and since Madame Maxime had been with Hagrid, that meant that only Cedric wasn't in the know. Which wasn't very fair, but Hope didn't really have the time to think about it as she booked it up to Morea's chamber, barely making it.
"You all right?" Ron asked in concern as she threw off the cloak and fell onto the couch to regain her breathing.
"Dragons," Hope rasped. "Fucking dragons."
Hermione paled. "Oh. Oh, no."
"Yeah, I'm screwed," Hope muttered, before looking to the fire and gasping "Sirius!"
Sirius Black's head was in the fireplace, flickering in the fire and it was deeply unnerving. Now all she needed was to see Nath's in one and she'd be set for 'godfathers heads on fire'. "You look like hell," he told her.
"Thanks," Hope said dryly, "I'm only studying defensive and offensive magic until my brain bleeds."
The fire couldn't conceal his concern as he seriously asked. "How are you?"
Hope thought about telling him everything, about how her life was a total mess, how George was so worried that he was staying away to keep her mind focused, how she wasn't in most of her classes, how she was barely sleeping as it was, that she knew at least two people were going to die this year but that neither of them were her.
But the truth caught in her throat.
"I'm surviving," she said finally, which was still technically true, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. "Sirius, the first task is against a dragon…how in the name of Hades do I beat a dragon?"
"Dragons we can deal with, Hope, but we'll get to that in a minute," he assured her, "I haven't got long here…I've broken into a Wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."
"What're you talking about?" Hope asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, an expression that she shared with Ron and Hermione, keeping quiet for Hope's sake. "I doubt there's anything worse than facing a dragon."
"Karkaroff is definitely worse," Sirius informed her flatly, "he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"
"I mean, of course," Hope rolled her eyes faintly, "but—you're sure? I mean, he's a headmaster now—"
"Oh, I'm sure," Sirius said, his voice a little cold, "his cell was near mine in Azkaban, but he got released. I'd bet anything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year –to keep an eye on him. Moody's the one that caught Karkaroff, you see, he's the reason why he was thrown in Azkaban in the first place."
"That must be why he looks so terrified of him every time they're in the same room," Hope mused, remembering catching Karkaroff hightailing away from Moody when she was hastening to Potions class, "but how did he get released? I didn't think that was possible."
"It's very rare," Sirius admitted, "but he claimed that he's seen the errors of his ways and then he gave the Ministry names of known Death Eaters…it made him quite unpopular. And you'll want to keep an eye on Durmstrang's champion; those students have been learning the Dark Arts since he became headmaster."
Hope wrinkled her nose. Viktor didn't seem too bad, granted, they hadn't actually talked much to begin with. "Okay, keep an eye on Karkaroff, keep an eye on Viktor, anything else?"
"You mustn't take this lightly, Hope," Sirius warned, "these tasks are dangerous, even more so now with devils within the walls."
"I know," Hope hissed with annoyance, "I'm the only one who seems to be worried about, you know, the possibly dying bit."
Everyone else was excited, as far as Hope could tell…at least she knew none of them would be dying for certain, so there was that.
"Tetchy," Ron muttered, but Hermione didn't smile.
"Not a good joke," Sirius retorted.
"I'm not laughing," Hope replied, voice and eyes hard. If there was someone who understood death better than most, it was Hope.
The silence between them awkward and uncomfortable and Sirius cleared his throat. "Anyways, I've been trying to keep an eye on the Daily Prophet, Hope—"
"Isn't everyone?" Hope grumbled under her breath. Rita Skeeter had found out about her and George's relationship and was throwing things way out of context because he was a couple years older than her and about their supposed breakup. The whole thing was ridiculous, because George was only two years older than her and clearly very into her and Hope didn't have eyes for anyone else.
(Besides, there were some people that dated other people a full decade younger than them, how, honestly, was that better than a fourteen year old and sixteen year old dating?)
"—and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month," Sirius said, speaking over her, "Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but I don't think so. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."
"You think it was Karkaroff, then?" Hope asked. "But why? Why would he want to kill me?"
"Why did Rookwood try to kill you last year?" Sirius offered and Hope rubbed at the scar along her throat and conceded the point. "But I have heard some strange things about the Death Eaters…they've been more active than usual. Why else would they have shown themselves so callously at the Quidditch World Cup? And-did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"
"Er…" Hope racked her memory. "Bertha Jorkins, wasn't it?" The same one that Voldemort and Pettigrew had talked about.
"Yes. She disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"
"Yeah, but what are the chances that she actually ran into Voldemort there?" Ron tried to reason and Hope winced.
"Listen," Sirius said lowly, "I knew Bertha Jorkins. She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Hope. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."
Hope pressed a hand to her brow briefly, running her fingers into her hair. She didn't have the time for this. She was facing a dragon in a few days.
And yet…it was still more information that she was usually trusted with, far better than Dumbledore telling her she wasn't ready to understand, like he knew Hope better than she knew herself.
Asshole.
"I know this isn't what you really want to hear," Sirius said seriously, "but you've got to know."
"No, I get it," Hope said heavily, "and I appreciate it, I really do." It just wasn't as high on her priority list. Sirius was one of the few people that hadn't treated her like a child who should have limited access to the world around her. Nath was like that too, but his solution was to hand her weapons and show her how to suture wounds.
"The more you know, the better prepared you'll be," Sirius said reasonably, "but I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."
"Death by dragon seems like a good plan," Hope agreed tiredly.
"Right, these dragons, don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell," Sirius warned, "dragons are too strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon—" He fell silent quickly. "Someone's coming, I've got to go—"
"Sirius!"
But he had gone, leaving Hope with a smoldering fireplace. And Hope was going to have to figure this out without him.
"Let's worry about Karkaroff later," Hermione advised. "We need to focus on keeping you alive past Tuesday…tell us about the dragons."
Hope was starting to get a headache and before she had time to blink, there was a potion in her hand. She looked at the swirling purple fluid. "What's this?"
"Headache potion," Ron said with a small smile. "George made it for you; said you weren't looking hot the last time he saw you."
He really was one of a kind. Hope looked at the potion, blinking furiously. "You know…your brother is the sweetest person I've ever met," she said thickly.
"I know," Ron said kindly and Hope swallowed down the potion. "Let's focus on keeping you alive long enough to tell him that, yeah?"
Hope nodded quickly, rubbing at her eyes and clearing her throat. "Right, the dragons, four of them, I don't remember what types they were, but Charlie said—"
"Charlie was there?" Ron asked in surprise before giving himself a mental shake. "What'm I talking about, of course he was there, he's probably got some of the most experience—"
"What did Charlie say?" Hermione asked instead, cutting across Ron.
"He said they wanted nesting mothers and he wasn't sure why…" Hope cupped her chin thoughtfully.
"Oooh," Ron grimaced suddenly, making both girls look to him, "it's just that dragons that are nesting are incredibly territorial. The scar Charlie's got on his arm was from one; Mum was apoplectic for weeks. Did they have actual eggs?"
"Yeah, because Charlie told Hagrid that he had them all counted," Hope snorted and the other two joined in.
"So, it's likely you'll have to steal something from a dragon," Hermione theorized. "That sounds…terrifying."
"And if it takes ten wizards to stun one, you're out of luck," Ron said seriously, before noticing the dreamy, distant look on Hope's face. "What're you thinking?"
"There's no need to overpower a dragon if you can outsmart it," she said thoughtfully, "would a dragon be able to see through an invisibility spell?"
Hermione paused and stared. "That's actually…pretty brilliant."
She and Hope looked to Ron. "I doubt it," he said finally.
"Good," Hope smirked.
The Disillusionment charm was incredibly advanced and Hope only got it to work about halfway even though she, Hermione, and Ron practiced through the night before both passed out from exhaustion. Ron was still slumped with his mouth open in the armchair while Hermione was curled up on a corner of the couch, and Hope felt like she was on fire.
Hope had used too much magic, the kind that Professor Lipson had warned her about. She was so stupid, but it wasn't like she could get away with under-practicing when Ron and Hermione there and she really didn't want to tell them.
She stumbled into the bathroom, her body tremoring uncontrollably and vomiting immediately into the toilet. Then her body stiffened, dropping her to the floor, before her arms and legs began to jerk uncontrollably.
Everything whited out and the next thing Hope knew, she was coming to hazily, the jerking slowing to a stop as she struggled to regulate her breathing.
"One stop short of niffin-ing out is having a seizure," Quinn had told her once. "That's the key sign that you need to stop working your magic. You have a seizure, you call me, got it?"
Hope had nodded then, but now she was just thinking she'd procrastinate on that until after the whole first task was over and done with.
She laid there for the longest time before she felt strong enough to pull herself up and turn on the shower, trying not to think about what Quinn said, about Niffins.
Just as long as she didn't use magic for the next twelve hours, she should be okay…now all she had to do was chase down Cedric and try not to taste the bile when she saw it hanging over him, the promise of his certain death.
That hurt the most.
Hope left the chamber quietly, with her friends still fast asleep and none the wiser, intent on the Hufflepuff common room, fortunately coming across Cedric leaving early to meet Cho, if his bright eyes were any indication.
(Hope tried not to be bitter about not seeing her boyfriend for nearly a month in preparation for the task, a luxury that Cedric was evidently afforded, not needed to get a grasp of three years of advanced Spellwork in that amount of time)
"Cedric!"
He looked back in startled surprise. "Hope, what're you doing here?"
"The first task," Hope gasped as she came to a stop beside him, skidding slightly in her haste, "it's dragons, Cedric."
"It's– what?" Cedric asked, stunned.
"Dragons," Hope repeated, probably looking as ill as she felt, "one for each of us. I saw them in the forest. You're the only one that doesn't know; Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were there, so they'll have told Fleur and Viktor by now."
Cedric hesitated. "But why'd you tell me?"
Hope could understand his suspicion, and she was far too tired to be annoyed about it. "I'm leveling the playing field, take it or leave it."
And then she was gone, returning to Morea's chamber and falling asleep on the part of the couch Hermione had left open and for the first time in a long time, she slept without dreams.
George was about to be caught. It was harder to sneak around after hours without the Marauder's Map, but not impossible, and he might've been fast but Snape was going to catch up to him.
Then a hand shot out, yanking him into a crevice that a suit of armor neatly sidestepped to block him from view.
Hope was a sight for sore eyes, still looking more pale and tired than he'd seen her lately, but he drank her in.
He opened his mouth to say something, probably point out that Snape was on his trail, but his brain shorted out when Hope dragged him down into a kiss. His eyes slid shut and her fingers tangled in his hair while his wrapped tight around her waist, dragging her impossibly close.
Snape's sharp footsteps echoed, coming to a stop, but the suit of armor gave a sudden wheeze to cover any noise either of them could've made. His steps moved away and Hope pulled back to grin widely.
"Georgie, Georgie, what have you been doing to get Snape chasing you down?"
George gave her a half smile, the pockets of his robes clinking against the wall. "I'm innocent, your honor."
Hope's eyes gleamed. "Yeah, baby, you look innocent."
He grinned as she searched his pockets, pulling out some vials. "Hm…fairy wings, boomslang skin, Lethe River Water, Jobberknoll feathers…raiding Snape's stash, were you?"
George's grin broadened. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."
"That's hot," Hope admitted easily, standing on the tips of her toes to press a light kiss under his jaw, which made him swallow thickly.
"You say that every time I break the rules," George pointed out as Hope replaced his pilfered bottles.
"Hm, because you breaking the rules is hot," Hope winked briefly before her face fell slightly and George wound his arms around her easily, kissing the top of her head.
"Are you worried about tomorrow?" he asked quietly.
Hope sighed. "Yes and no. But I'm not dying tomorrow," she said with an air of finality that some found as unnerving as her unwavering stare, like she knew something they didn't, something terribly tragic that she could never speak aloud. "I've got a plan; I just hope it works."
She grimaced. She had a lot of interesting spells under her belt, but she hoped she didn't need more than the disillusionment charm.
George cupped her cheek. "Going to try to get some decent sleep before the task?"
Hope laughed. "Decent sleep? Nah, I've still got some practicing to do…I'll see you tomorrow, baby."
She leaned up to kiss his cheek lightly and George loosened his grip on her enough to let her slip away, sinking into the shadows like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The suit of armor they'd been hiding behind gave a wheezing sort of chuckle and George banged against its visor. "Oh, shut up."
"She's going to kill us."
"Eh," Quinn waved their girlfriend off. "Worse comes to worst, I can travel us to another world to start over."
Diane gave them an unimpressed look as they walked around at Hogwarts. There was tension and excitement in the air and the distinct roar of a dragon in the distance. She could see why Hope hadn't said a word about it; Diane was scared as shit.
Instead she'd gone to Kingsley, Henry Fogg's wizard husband.
Diane tried not to be annoyed about it, but then she saw Hope. Hermione was hugging her tightly and Ron clapped her shoulder, but Diane couldn't help but compare her to the three taller and much older champions. They were all pale and tense, but Hope was resigned; it was a familiar feeling, Diane was sure, Hope being disadvantaged.
And somehow Hope looked like the only one up to the task.
She wasn't wearing robes like the others -why would you when that shit could get caught on just about everything?-, instead she wore the gleaming green-scaled basilisk jacket, zipped shut all the way to her throat, her dark hair in a crown braid, plaited tight to keep it out of her way, the holster on her arm holding her wand, while the one belted at her back held a knife.
It was a strange thing indeed when the youngest looks the most prepared.
She had a stony look on her face, even when Dean hugged her tightly, whispering something in her ear that made Hope nod seriously into his shoulder.
They only parted when some woman snapped a picture of them. Diane couldn't hear what was said, just that the woman had a sharp, ringing voice, but Hope and Dean were both glaring daggers. She wondered if that was the same woman who'd insinuated Hope's mother's pregnancy years before she actually had Hope.
"Ah, Quinn, Diane, so lovely to see you."
Diane and Quinn both turned to see Henry Fogg on the arm of his husband, smiling broadly. He was dressed to the nines and looked little more than arm candy for Kingsley, wearing traditional Nigerian robes that he could never not look amazing in, something that had always aggravated Quinn.
"Dean Arm-Candy," Quinn bared their teeth at their boss before turning to Kingsley. "King, I honestly don't know how you put up with him."
Kingsley smiled. "He has certain qualities that I enjoy."
Quinn turned to Diane, stage-whispering "He means he looks good naked."
Henry laughed while Diane rolled her eyes. She hadn't interacted with Henry since leaving Brakebills, but seeing him as a husband was as amusing as if was startling. He was warmer and…touchy, enjoying Kingsley at his side and having an arm around him.
"Best find good seats," Kingsley said loudly, taking Henry's hand. "Come along, dear."
The crowd of children was growing and Quinn knew there was a reason they taught at a graduate university. They linked hands with Diane, weaving through the crowd to reach the stands surrounding a rocky terrain.
"Ah, the baby for my baby, how are you, sweetheart?" Diane asked immediately after sliding into the stands beside George who jumped violently before twisting to gape at the pair.
"Who's that?" one of the girls asked beside his twin, but George blurted out "Miss Diane, Quinn—what're you doing here?"
Quinn smirked, sliding their yellow-lensed glasses down slightly -it took a lot of effort, they were sure, not to flinch in surprise at the empty hole where one of their eyes was supposed to be. "A little birdie told us someone got in over their head at school…how's our girl been, Weasley?"
"Um," George blinked, "well we've kinda been taking a break, so, you know, she doesn't die."
They both stared at him.
"You know, I admire that in a man," Diane replied agreeably with a smile, "knowing when to step back and not be a distraction."
George turned pink, standing out on his stark white cheeks, the freckles doing little to hide how pale he was. "Uh, thanks…I think?"
Quinn snorted before they all quieted at the sound of a sudden cannon and they watched as a dragon was dragged into the ring, chained before a nest of eggs, one of which was a golden egg.
"That's inhumane," Diane muttered to Quinn.
"That's wizards for you," Quinn hummed.
The first was a boy named Cedric Diggory, apparently the Hogwarts favorite, being the original champion before Hope's name had been pulled -Dean had said it had been pretty nasty and Hope hadn't actually been in most lessons for nearly a month and wasn't even sleeping in the tower- and he did an impressive charm to get past his dragon, transfiguring a rock into a dog to distract the dragon, and it worked, mostly, but getting his egg cost him a few bad burns that had Diane wincing. The second was the girl from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour, who tried a different route by making her dragon go to sleep, which Quinn thought was honestly the smartest. Then the Durmstrang boy, Viktor Krum, tried a more violent approach, shooting the dragon in the eye.
He lost points for trampling on the actual dragon eggs.
Then it was Hope's turn, and her dragon looked downright terrifying. Black scales and yellow eyes, spikes along its tail…Quinn wouldn't want to face that.
And then Hope stepped out into the enclosure, wand tight in her grip.
Diane clutched Quinn's hand tightly as the dragon fixed its eyes on her.
Hope twisted her wand. "Caeco Scintilla!"
Light burst and shattered like white sparks all around, blinding everyone, including the dragon, that reared up and roared. Hope darted behind a rock, murmuring a spell and tapping the top of her head and a moment later, she'd vanished, leaving the dragon to peer around, its great yellow eyes searching and searching.
"Why, that was startling!" the commentator declared. "But—where is our last champion?"
Murmurs spread and spread through the stands like fire.
"Maybe she ran?" Someone laughed. "Coward!"
There were a few more jeers and Quinn snorted loudly. "Nice to see that wizards haven't changed much…they're still as narrow-minded as ever."
They patted George's shoulder kindly. "Not you of course, tinkerer, but you're in the minority."
George was totally confused. "What d'you mean?"
Quinn waved off his confusion. "What I mean, is she's still there, you just can't see her." They handed him their spelled glasses and George took them, looking through them with a gasp.
Because there she was, her body shimmering with the effect of whatever spell she'd cast, clear through the glasses, invisible without it.
"That's…brilliant," he gaped.
"I don't believe this; Miss Potter is using a Disillusionment Charm!"
Nobody could see what was going on, but that didn't matter; everyone was watching on bated breath.
While, in the ring, Hope was edging forward cautiously, her eyes flicking between the dragon and the golden egg. There was one spell she knew that could get her the egg in record time, but she'd have to drop her Disillusionment Charm in order to use it -casting multiple spells at once wasn't even taught until year seven- and she wanted to be closer…
Its eyes snapped to her and Hope swallowed. No time like the present.
She dropped the charm and shouted "Aqua Eructo!" aiming her wand at the snout of the dragon that opened wide to expel flames. A thick jet of water burst from the tip, putting out the fire and leaving its mouth smoking, gagging slightly on the force of the water.
"Oh! This is something we haven't seen yet!" Bagman cried. "Not sure if it'll work!"
Hope's feet blurred to action as she leapt onto a rock, spreading her feet evenly, performing a complicated twist with her hand. "Flagellum!" she breathed and a whip coiled from the end of her wand, cracking in the air as she snapped it forward to wrap around the golden egg, giving a sharp tug and dragging it through the air towards her.
Hope let out an "Oof!" as it collided with her chest, knocking her back off the rock, skidding on the ground and missing another burst of fire before the dragon handlers dived in to subdue the dragon.
She sat up on the ground, winded but successful, clutching her wand and the egg tightly and praying she didn't have another seizure, because that would be really awkward in front of her school and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
For a moment, nothing happened, just the roaring of her blood in her ears, which could've been the dragon, she realized, but it dawned on her that the roaring was actually coming from the stands.
The crowd thundered around her, screaming and yelling in euphoria, but Hope was still in a bit of a stage of shock as she stumbled to stand before the noise, it was only then that it truly dawned upon her that she had actually done it! She had gone against a dragon and collected a golden egg…it seemed so ridiculous, but she had done it!
"Look at that!" Bagman's voice blared over the crowd. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get her egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds against Miss Potter!"
Professor McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid were moving swiftly towards her with beaming smiles on their faces. Hope was more surprised when Professor McGonagall hugged her.
"That was excellent, Potter! Very advanced magic for your age! I am very impressed! The time out of class served you well!"
Hope flushed with pleasure at the compliment.
"Are you injured, Potter?" Professor McGonagall looked over Hope, briefly admiring the basilisk jacket as Hope replaced her wand in its holster.
"No," Hope said, looking over herself as well. Her back ached a little from her skid, but Hope didn't mind a few bruises. She assumed some of the other champions weren't as lucky, but Hope was riding on a new high as she left the arena to be immediately met by Hermione and Ron shouting boisterously.
"You did it!" Hermione shrieked, pale-faced and clearly having been clutching her cheeks so hard that her nails had dug in. "I can't believe—"
"—And that thing with the whip—" Ron added, excitement bright, making the motion with his hand. "—amazing!"
Hope grinned, sharp and reckless and completely unearthly in a way that would only be pointed out years later, and then she saw him.
"Hold this, will you?" She asked, not really sure who to direct it towards, but one of them took the egg, so they got her meaning and Ron huffed a small snort as she peeled away to throw her arms around George, who hugged her so tight that he lifted her off the ground. His shoulders were stiff with tension but she still burrowed her face into one, feeling more at home than ever.
And if his arms trembled slightly, she'd never say.
Hope leaned her head back to kiss him so suddenly, and with so much enthusiasm, that George nearly lost his grip on her. Neither of them noticed Fred guffawing loudly or the wolf whistles and hollers or even Dean complaining loudly "C'mon, guys, in fucking public…"
They parted and Hope's feet made it back to the ground, eyes gleaming impossibly dark and it was as though the month apart never happened.
There was a throat clearing behind her and a familiar voice that said "I see that being out of your classes certainly paid off."
And Hope twisted around to stare. "Kingsley!" Then she took in the man beside him. "Uh, Dean Fogg? And—Mum?"
The word absolutely slipped out as soon as she'd caught sight of Diane and Quinn traipsing over and before she could apologize, Diane was streaking forward, eyes slightly misted by the switch from Diane to Mum to embrace Hope tightly.
Neither of them spoke of it, but they'd gotten past that point a long time ago…Hope calling Dean her brother, Hope having a place at their table and a bed in their house.
"What're you doing here?" Hope asked, gaping, before realization dawned. "Wait…Dean ratted me out…that bastard!"
She glared and Dean vanished on the spot, which George thought was wise. "Yeah, you better run, mister! Why are all my friends blabbing to my family?"
Hermione pinked behind her and George surmised she was the other culprit.
The second man, a bald man with dark skin and a kind smile held a hand out to George. "You must be George, the husband?"
Fred died of laughter beside George, which he didn't really appreciate. "Uh, yeah, I guess," George sighed, shaking it.
"Henry Fogg," he offered kindly, "Mari's been carrying tales about your ability to create magic…tell me, have you and your brother actually managed to contain a storm in a bottle?"
George and Fred looked to Hope, but she wasn't listening, telling Quinn something that made their face frown, asking her a few serious questions in reply.
"Yeah, we've managed that, once," Fred admitted, eager to share with someone clearly interested. "We're working on replicating it, but a lot of our products are more…transfiguring sweets."
"Hm, interesting," Henry Fogg mused, "I can think of a lot of students that would be interested in that."
"Dear, try not to get into too much trouble," the Auror at his side reminded. George remembered him as one of the ones to come and interrogate Hope and Dean after they'd been attacked. "I know their father."
"Whatever you say, my love," Henry Fogg said smoothly, but he cast a wink towards the boys. "Now, where is our resident meta-magician?"
"Looks like she took off with Quinn, looked serious," Kingsley said as he pulled his husband away.
"Who was that guy?" Fred asked George.
George looked after them for the longest moment. "I think he's the guy in charge of that school Hope's going to over the summer."
But where had Hope gone?
"How long did this seizure last?" Eleanor Lipson was looking through several lenses with an intense frown before setting it down and picking up a few stones, rotating them in her hand while the other smoothed through several poppers, hovering in the air before her. "Less than five minutes?"
"Um…" Hope wracked her brain for a moment. "I'm pretty sure…it wasn't that long."
"How bad is it?" Quinn asked quietly, arms crossed. "Lay it out, Ellie."
"Well…it's bad," Eleanor said carefully, opening her eyes. "You remember what I said about how your magic is like an infection?"
"Yeah?" Hope arched an eyebrow.
"It's worse than that…have you ever heard of something called the Virgo Blade?"
Quinn leaned off of the wall, startled. "That's a fictional knife, it's not real."
Hope looked from Quinn to Eleanor, totally confused. "What's the Virgo Blade?"
"It's a knife, a cursed knife," Eleanor amended, "one that causes rose vines to grow from the wound until eventually strangling your heart."
"Oh," Hope said flatly, looking down at her hands, "that's great. Festive."
Quinn shot her a look. "It's not a real knife—"
"Too bad," Hope muttered, "I'd like a knife like that."
"—I'm sure she's just using it to illustrate a point," Quinn continued like Hope hadn't spoken.
"I am," Eleanor agreed. "Marina. Your magic is everywhere in your body, it's invaded every system, it's the worst infection you can possibly imagine, and worse, it's burning through your blood like nothing else. Your hemoglobin is at 5.0."
Hope stared as her assistant wheeled in an IV pole with a large bag of blood attached to it. "I'm guessing that's not good."
"Below 7 is when we transfuse," Eleanor said while her assistant took Hope's arm, neatly inserting an IV into her vein and connecting her to the blood tubing. "You have the worst case of Magically Induced Anemia that I've ever seen."
Hope watched the blood slowly drip. "How bad's the infection? It can't be treated with, I don't know, antibiotics?" She'd been on those before, after her accident.
Eleanor pursed her lips. "You remember when I said it was beyond my power to remove the magical core inserted in you?"
"Yeah, and to be careful about the number of spells I used and how much power—" Hope gave an airy wave of her hand.
"Which she obviously didn't do," Quinn rolled their eye and Hope threw a scowl their way.
"Well, I didn't look deep enough, but the…threads, I suppose, of the magical core are entangled with your soul," Eleanor explained cautiously. "Even if I'd had the power to work the spell to remove it…it would've destroyed you. I don't even think a Mudang could even manage it, you'd need to find a willing—"
"God?" Hope offered tiredly.
Quinn and Eleanor shared a look. "Yes…but gods rarely do anything out of the kindness of their heart, if you made a deal with one, it could be dangerous."
Hope frowned. "Then, I'll try to figure this out on my own."
"Babe," Quinn's mouth was set in a straight line, "believe me when I say this, if something needs god-level power, you aren't going to make the cut."
Hope thought about her and Selenar, both telling her essentially the same thing, but Hope was tired, so tired of being told what to do. "I think I should be the judge of that."
Her eyes were hard and black, meeting Quinn's single one where their glasses had slid down.
Eleanor cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well, in the meantime, frequent checks on your hemoglobin. Blood transfusion is better than blood replenisher potions, but while at school, I'd suggest carrying some on you at all times…but eventually the symptoms will become worse than some fatigue and headaches, you understand?"
Hope was used to dire straits. Her entire life was a dire strait. She could handle one more, and she didn't even care if Quinn didn't think so.
No one had really been expecting Hope to show up back into class anytime soon, even after the first task had passed. She'd gotten standing ovation from the school and Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Moody had all given her high marks for her magic use in the first class. Which basically meant that Hope got extra credit on the assignments she didn't do so hot on while cramming for the task.
Which some Slytherins had a few biting thoughts about it, but the school was back on Hope's side, which Hope didn't really care about either way; she'd slept for about two days straight without a single dream after the task and the only thing her friends had done was tuck blankets around her and leave a few snacks for her to eat when she woke up.
So, when she came through the door, dressed in her uniform, dark hair in a high bun, wand tucked in her arm holster, and bag at her side, the whole class came to a standstill.
"Sorry I'm late," Hope apologized quickly.
"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said swiftly, "glad to see you back in class."
Hope smiled easily. "Glad to be back, Professor." And then she slid into the empty seat beside Ron and Professor McGonagall returned to the topic of cross-species transfiguration and Hope pulled out a pen -having long discarded her quills- and started to take notes.
It was only when the class had ended that Professor McGonagall asked her to stay back a moment.
Hope frowned, approaching her desk. "Is this about me being late?"
"No, but I trust that won't be a habit," Professor McGonagall's expression was severe and Hope hadn't missed it in the past month or so that she hadn't been in class; Hope shook her head quickly. "You missed the beginning of the lesson, so I doubt you know about the Yule Ball."
Hope could already tell that this wasn't going to be a fun talk. "Sounds like something I'd like to avoid, to be honest." Balls and dress robes that Hope had to wear…gag her with a spoon.
Professor McGonagall didn't smile. "You are required to attend, Miss Potter."
She couldn't help but groan. "C'mon, Professor, balls are so—"
"It's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament," Professor McGonagall explained.
"Traditional is just another word for old-fashioned," Hope griped. "Which means dress instead of suit, which is utterly ridiculous…which is exactly how I'll look in a dress, Professor."
And that was exactly what she told Hermione and Ron several minutes later, annoyance clear.
"It's just a dinner and dance," Hermione tried to soothe her.
"That's not the point," Hope grated, feeling numbness in her leg and stopping to wait for it to shake off -Ron and Hermione pausing as well. "The point is that looking a certain way, wearing dresses and whatever…I find that deeply uncomfortable."
Hermione opened her mouth only to pause and shut it, but Ron didn't question it, remembering how she'd looked when his mother had brought her dress into his room to show her.
"I know it sucks," he said carefully, "and that you don't have a lot of control in this situation…but what about a lesser of two evils…ask Quinn or your mum to get you a dress that suits you and is simultaneously threatening and or otherworldly." It was something she'd said to George before.
Hope looked like she was about to complain before mulling over what he said.
"Not that you don't already look otherworldly and threatening," he said quickly before muttering, "but George is probably into that…"
Hope glowered, pink-cheeked, and Hermione burst into giggles.
November passed quickly into December, and the only thing on almost anyone's mind was the Yule Ball, something Hope was dreading more with every passing day. She and George had already had a talk about it -and Quinn had sent her a far more suitable dress with a few scathing things about how backwards and tenth century the entire matter was, which Hope appreciated- and if there was one thing George respected, it was Hope's comfort zone. And George knew better than anyone else that Hope would be uncomfortable enough in a dress and being in full view of three schools…Hope got enough stares for her scars.
Which was why Dean had agreed to take her…and wear an impeccable suit that certain Pure-bloods would scoff at. Hope had never appreciated quite as much as the moment when she'd caught him and hurriedly asked if he'd go with her, only for him to assure her that he wouldn't mind.
Dean was good about that, even though she knew he had his eyes on Daphne Greengrass.
Hope had already had five older students ask her, which had been irksome, albeit amusing, especially when she'd been walking hand-in-hand with George who certainly hadn't been impressed. People actually believed that they'd broken up for a month…honestly.
"You should be working on the egg!" Hermione complained the first day of the holiday. "Not worrying about the ball!"
"I think a ball is more troublesome than the dragon," Hope grumbled while Fleur giggled, having taken up residence beside them again, now that the task wasn't hovering over them.
"Has George asked you yet?" Ron asked, "because he's coming this way now."
Hope gave him an unimpressed look, returning to her Ancient Runes essay on the Celts interpretation of Runes. Ron, who was still playing with his Exploding Snap cards recoiled slightly as they exploded, leaving his eyebrows singed, causing Hermione to stifle her laughter into her pudding.
"Nice look, Ron," an amused voice commented, "go well with your dress robes, that will."
Ron scowled at his brothers, feeling his eyebrows gingerly for any lasting damage. They'd been making fun of him since they found out he'd gotten new and nice dark blue robes that had been a gift from Hope, because she thought one of them should've looked comfortable. George sat down beside Hope, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to her cheek.
Hope's mouth twisted into a faint smile.
"What're doing later?" her boyfriend asked, toying with the end of her plait, eyes bright.
"Depends on what you've got planned," Hope replied and George winked, his fingers cupping her cheek before trailing down her neck and over the scar across her neck. Hope's skin tingled.
"I'll be by the room at eight," he promised before turning away to ask Ron, "Hey, Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?"
"No, he's off delivering a letter," Ron said, eyeing his brother curiously. "Why?"
"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," Fred said sardonically, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Which is a comfort for Hope, I'm sure."
"George is going with Katie," Hope said dryly, returning her attention to her essay and making them all -excepting George, of course- stare at her, "he asked her this morning."
"What?" Hermione balked. "Why aren't you going together?"
"Because Katie's boyfriend doesn't go here anymore," Hope rolled her eyes. "It only took them a month before he graduated to figure their shit out." Which had been the funniest thing; the entire quidditch team had howled with laughter when she'd snogged Oliver in the middle of the common room.
"Who're you going with?" Ron balked.
"My brother," Hope retorted and Fleur glanced down the table with the rest of them to where Dean was sitting with Seamus who looked like he was in the middle of panicking. Because Hope had given Ginny the green dress Mrs. Weasley had gotten her and he'd walked into the common room to see Hope standing with Lavender and Parvati, with Ginny on a table, wearing the dress and stealing one of Hope's knives because the thing was too long and heavy…Parvati had kindly taken the knife and told her to leave it to the professionals, and none of them had noticed Seamus gaping and then leaving to panic about finding Ginny Weasley in a nice dress, brandishing a weapon as unbelievably cute and absolutely terrifying; he ought to take notes from George.
Ron shook his head slightly before looking to George. "Why do you need him?" he asked again, making a face at how George had pulled Hope closer to him, sinking into his side as she wrote another sentence. George was good for her, but that didn't change the fact that he was his brother and she was his best mate.
George smirked at his discomfort -the ass. "Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat."
Ron ignored that, too curious. "Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?"
"Nose out, Ron," Fred advised, twisting his wand slightly, "or I'll burn that for you, too."
"So...," George said slowly, "the rest of you lot got dates for the ball yet?"
Hermione busied herself with her homework, swallowing pumpkin juice quickly to keep from answering.
"Nope," Ron said.
"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," Fred said with a manner of warning.
"Don't tell me you've already asked Angelina?" Ron asked with a derisive snort.
"Good point," Fred conceded, glancing down the table for his girlfriend. She'd exchanged her dreadlocks for a multitude of thick braids that looked great and everyone snorted when Fred was briefly distracted by how good she looked. "Oi! Angelina!"
Angelina looked up from the Charms demonstration that Alicia was doing. "What?"
Fred pointed to her, mimed dancing, and then pointed to himself. A bright smile spread across her face. "Of course, you git."
Fred winked. "And that, dear little brother, is how you do it."
"I'm glad Angie's into arrogance," Hope sniggered.
"Oh, like George isn't arrogant," he retorted, unafraid to throw shade at his twin, who was hiding his smirk in his hand, "have you ever tried to tell him his potion ingredients weren't the right measurements? It's an honest to Merlin nightmare!"
"Were the measurements off?" Hope countered easily.
"Well-no—" Fred became a bit flustered.
"Then it's not arrogance, it's knowing you're right," Hope said, kissing George's cheek soundly. George smirked easily.
"Favoritism, that's what this is," Fred said decisively, reaching across the table to take Hope's hand. "Hope, my love, I thought we had something special."
"Oh, Fred," Hope batted her eyes, "you know I've only got eyes for you, but I've got to throw your twin off the scent somehow."
George rolled his eyes while Hope's friends laughed.
"I forgive you," Fred promised with a wink, "come on, Georgie."
George tipped an imaginary hat and Hope laughed, waving him goodbye. "See you later, baby."
"Most definitely," he agreed. "And I plan on winning you back from Fred."
Hope sniggered as he left. "Easy job, to be honest."
"I'll never understand you two," Ron mimed vomiting.
"I zink eet eez sweet," Fleur said with a small smile, having been silent throughout the exchange.
"So," Hope coughed a little to get the attention off her, "who's going to be your date, Fleur?"
"I don't know," the French champion said in a bit of misery, "Zere eez no one I want to ask zhat won't be affected by my Allure…"
"Maybe you should ask someone who has similar interests to you?" Hermione offered. "That way at least it won't be boring."
"Maybe…" Fleur still appeared downtrodden. "Do you know anyone who 'as an interest in Curse-breaking?"
The grin that bloomed on Hope's face was nearly feral. "Actually, I do."
"That's a bad idea!" Ron said catching on quickly, shaking his head. "He'll probably be too busy!"
"Oh, you don't know that," Hermione admonished, knowing where Hope was going with her thoughts.
"Fleur how do you feel about a man with a ponytail and a fang earring?"
"Nozzing, really—" Fleur blinked a few times, because Hope had left the table to beseech her Head of House at the staff table.
"Professor, could I borrow your fireplace later?"
Professor McGonagall eyed her student suspiciously, making Hope grin. That's what happened when you had the last name Potter and were dating one of the Weasley twins. "Why?"
"I just need to take Fleur to Gringotts for something important," Hope said with a congenial smile that would never fool someone who'd seen it once on James Potter's face. "May we?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes were filled with suspicion, but finally she said, "I will allow you in fifteen minutes."
"Yes!" Hope pumped her fist. "Thanks so much, Professor!"
She returned to the table with a grin, gathering up her things. "All right, we've got fifteen minutes until she says we can use her fireplace, so I'm going to get rid of some of these books, coming Hermione?"
"I don't understand," Fleur said in complete confusion.
"Just go with it," Ron and Hermione advised as the two girls gathered up their things and left in search of the library.
"Trying to set Bill up with Fleur?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. "Really?"
Hope shrugged with a grin. "Why not?"
"Oh, I do—"
"Excuse me."
Both girls looked up in surprise to see Viktor Krum standing before them looking slightly uncomfortable. His eyes were on Hermione for a change. "May I haff a vord?" he asked her thickly.
"Oh, you most certainly can," Hope said with a bright grin, elbowing Hermione slightly. "She is all yours!"
"Hope!" Hermione hissed as her friend left her behind before blushing slightly as her eyes met Viktor's. She did her best to ignore Hope's cackles in the distance as she made off towards the library, now alone.
And then, fifteen minutes later, Hope and Fleur were spat out of the emerald fire, stumbling into Gringotts.
"Miss Potter, what a surprise."
Hope was used to the cold and craggy drawls of the goblins and she smiled politely down at the one who had spoken. "Hello, Griphook. How are you today?"
It was rare for wand-carriers to greet the goblins, but Griphook had grown used to the way that Hope was. "I am well," he said, "Is there something I may assist you in?"
"I'm looking for William Weasley," Hope said, scanning the lobby for a familiar head of red hair. "Is he here?"
"He is. Shall I tell him he has a visitor?"
"That would be most kind," Hope said with another blinding smile as the goblin walked away, muttering unintelligible words in Gobbledegook under his breath.
Fleur arched a pale eyebrow.
"He's the one who usually takes me down to my vault," Hope admitted, "I talk more with Gornuk, though, he's nicer." From a certain point of view. "Ah, there he is!"
Fleur had to admit, her breath left her slightly at the sight of the person Hope wanted her to meet. He was red-haired with a ponytail and a fang earring dangling from his lobe just as Hope had described, but she had forgotten to mention how ruggedly handsome he was.
Or perhaps she hadn't noticed.
"Give me a second, would you?" But Fleur hardly heard her as she stepped forward to greet him, bestowing a kindly hug.
"Heard you did quite well against the dragon from Charlie," Bill told her after they parted.
Hope blushed, "Oh, it wasn't very impressive." Hardly any of it had actually been seen, Moody's magical eye notwithstanding.
"Of course not," Bill's mouth twitched. "You're not here about George, are you?"
"No," Hope said perplexed. "Why?"
"Well, you are dating…or not dating, according to some people…" He appraised her and she groaned.
"George and I are perfectly fine," she informed him flatly. "But I'm not here about him, I'm here about –you see that blonde back there?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and Bill followed it to a young woman pretending to be interested in the ceiling.
"That's Fleur Delacour, the champion of Beauxbatons," Hope explained, "and she needs a date for the Yule Ball, but she doesn't know who to ask because she's got Veela blood."
"Ah…" Bill nodded in understanding. "But why'd you ask me?"
"It wouldn't be your devilishly good looks," Hope said sarcastically, "she actually has an interest in Curse-breaking, so I figured if you guys went together, you would at least be able to talk about something you're both passionate about."
"Possibly," Bill said, eyeing her over Hope's head. She was very lovely, but that was to be expected with having Veela blood, but she also looked incredibly nervous. "I'll talk with her," he said, "but no promises."
But Hope couldn't help but think he walked surprisingly fast towards the seventeen-year-old French witch.
"I'm Bill Weasley," he introduced himself smoothly, "Hope tells me you're having a bit of a crisis?"
Fleur blushed again, forcing her hands to remain at her sides, not twisting them together nervously. "Yes," she said in her throaty voice, "Ze Yule Ball eez days away, and…" She bit her lip, conveying her nervousness.
Bill smiled and he couldn't help but think she was very different from the Veela at the Cup. "Do you want to get a Butterbeer?" he asked her.
She was surprised, but pleased all the same.
"I can wait," Hope offered to the pair who had apparently forgotten of her presence, "or you can just take the Floo back to Professor McGonagall's Office."
"Oh!" Fleur gave her an embarrassed smile. "You don't 'ave to wait for me, 'Ope."
"Don't worry," I'll get her back to school, no problem," Bill added with a wink, to which Hope rolled her eyes.
"Now you two, behave yourselves!" Hope called after them. "We don't want an international incident on our hands!"
Obviously, they ignored her, making Hope feel as though she'd picked a good choice. Who knew what kind of person Fleur would have gone with if she hadn't suggested the apparently Allure-resistant Bill? Probably someone who hung onto her, being far more interested in how she looked than what she said, something she doubted Bill would do.
Hope was quite effectively distracted. George's fingers were in her hair and his mouth was on hers and she had a leg hooked over his hip, the food on the small table before the fire had been forgotten and Hope couldn't bring herself to pry herself from George's grip.
"Mm," she hummed as he parted from her briefly before returning, making it difficult to think, but Hope persevered, "You were-mm-touchy-this morn-ing—" Hope's mouth opened under his and he did something clever with his tongue that had her clutching his shoulders and stifling a moan.
George parted from her lips to trail to her ear and Hope swallowed her breaths raggedly. "Placeholder."
"What?" she asked, dazedly, trying to focus and George grinned, leaning back to get a look at her, with her flushed cheeks and glazed eyes and swollen mouth, her hair pulled haphazardly by his fingers.
Merlin, she was breathtaking.
"Placeholder," George was enjoying the upper hand far too much right now, "places I want to kiss you when we're not in polite company."
Hope went past flustered to full-on red-faced and light headed and she had to clutch George to stay upright. "You," she paused, "you want to kiss my scars?"
He'd only kissed the edge of it before and Hope had never been sure if it had been because he didn't like them.
"I thought you didn't like them," Hope said finally. Hope didn't mind her scars, but she didn't really like them either.
"Do you like them?" George asked her suddenly.
"No-t really," Hope had to quickly amend before sighing tiredly. "I'm used to scars, though, scars are proof that…" Nath's words came back to her. "Proof that no matter what life has thrown at me…I'm tougher."
"Nath?" George guessed.
"Nath," Hope agreed, laughing, which tapered off as he brought him mouth to her throat, kissing lightly over where Hope had stitched herself back together after Rookwood's spell. Her skin tingled and she sighed before dragging him up to kiss him again, laughing at the surprised look on his face.
(And the tiny beetle that had been seeking more content couldn't help but be annoyed that it couldn't find Hope, who rarely drew back the curtains in Morea's chamber)
Daphne had been carrying too many books, and she'd definitely hit the edge of the staircase wrong. She let out a little yelp, her books tumbling out of her arms and down the stairs, tripping as she followed after.
Or, would've, if someone hadn't grabbed her at the last moment with a "Hey! Careful!" and arms around her that jerked her back to safety.
"Careful," was repeated and Daphne looked up into the dark eyes of Dean Thomas. She swallowed thickly and tried not to get distracted, but his jawline and cheekbones had really come in and were very distracting.
"Thomas," she forced out, trying not to think about how uncomfortably close they were.
"Daphne," he replied easily and she really liked how her name flowed off his tongue.
(That tongue was probably the difference between a good kiss and a great one –no, stop right there!)
"Dean," she amended and he smiled broadly. "Um. Thank you. For catching me." Her brain was having trouble remaining focused.
"No problem," he said, releasing her to grab her books where she'd dropped them and Daphne looked down. Dean had dropped his bag in his haste to catch her and his sketchbook had slid out. Daphne reached out to flip it open, unable to stop herself.
At first, she thought it was Hope Potter, but it wasn't. The woman in the sketch bore an uncanny likeness to her, but she lacked her scars and her mouth was stretched wide in a scream, palms against a tree.
She flipped past a few sketches of Hope -all very good- before seeing one of herself, across from Great Hall, engrossed in a book…and somehow, he'd made her seem utterly beautiful. Well, Daphne knew she was pretty, but…not like that.
She snapped it shut, handing it back as he traded her for her books. "You draw Hope Potter a lot," she mentioned.
"Yeah, she's a good subject," Dean shrugged, "if you can't draw your sister than who can you?"
Daphne hummed faintly before appraising him. "Are you going to the Ball with anyone?"
Dean grinned, taking a step forward and leaning on the railing. The light shining through the windows was making him seem golden and absolutely sun-touched and she just knew he was even more attractive in darkness and moonlight. There was something utterly…otherworldly about him. "Are you asking?"
They were close, very close and Daphne could see his eyes dart from her lips back up to her eyes and she could feel the heat pooling in her cheeks as she swallowed thickly. "Yes," she said finally, "I'm asking."
Dean's eyes glowed with delight and then his smile faltered. "Oh, sorry, I would love that, you don't know how much I would love that, but I promised I'd take Hope."
"Doesn't she have a boyfriend?" Daphne arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, but she hates being the center of attention for something like this and hates wearing dresses even more, so I promised I'd do it," Dean waved a hand and Daphne couldn't help but feel utter fondness towards him. "So…save me a dance, would you?"
Daphne smiled. "I'll be looking forward to it." And when he walked off there was a definite skip in his step. Besides, taking your proclaimed sister to a ball knowing she'd be unbelievably uncomfortable as it was to go with her boyfriend? He got a lot of points for that.
And it really didn't help that he was that hot.
Hope gazed at herself in the mirror, willing the bile down and wishing not for the hundredth time that she was in a suit. But it was still better than the one Mrs. Weasley had given her; Quinn, at least, knew what Hope liked.
The dress was blood red and made of a loose and flowing material that fluttered when she moved. It wasn't made to fit her body, like many of the form-fitting dresses that Hope had seen through open doors as she'd traipsed back to the fourth-year girls' dormitory. She would've been getting ready in Morea's chamber -she had decided to stay there even after the school got back on her side- but Dean would be getting ready in Gryffindor Tower, so it seemed like a better idea to get ready there.
"Wow, I like the dress," Parvati said behind her and Hope turned and had to blink a few times.
Parvati was radiant in a similar Greek-inspired dress, only hers was more flattering and golden.
"Look who's talking," Hope snorted. "Taking a cue from Apollo?" There was a sun medallion glittering at her throat that Hope thought Parvati never took off.
Parvati positively beamed and Hope surmised that was her intention. "If you see Padma, will you do me a favor and tell her she looks stunning?"
"Is she also taking a cue from Apollo?" Hope asked bemused.
"No," Parvati said with a mysterious smile. "Feel naked without any knives?"
Hermione snorted where she was pinning her hair. "Maybe she's hiding one in that braid."
Hope rolled her eyes, fixing one last pin in place, still looking in the mirror, frowning deeply and rubbing at her arms like she'd been hit with a sudden chill. The grounding sigil tattooed on her arm was as clear as day, like the blue iris on her shoulder.
She twisted her fingers together. "Let's get this over with before I vomit." And she strode out of the room, barely hearing Lavender asking why she wasn't looking forward to the dance.
Dean was waiting for her at the bottom step and he smiled. "I've got a red tie so we match."
Hope laughed before taking him in with his suit, black jacket and trousers and vest, the tie being the only contrast. "You look good…gonna snag a dance with Daphne later?"
"Shut up and yes," he rolled his eyes, "I missed out on actually taking her, though."
Hope faltered. "Oh," she said uncomfortably, "sorry."
"Oh, shut up, it's not your fault," he waved her off, "besides, you're not sticking around very long anyways."
George was absolutely the most perfect person she had ever met and as soon as Hope could feasibly leave, they were both skipping and Hope was making a mirror bridge to Thalatta to dance (and probably push George into the shallows of the sea before he got to her first).
She smirked, pressing a finger to her lips. She caught George's eyes across the common room, where he was admiring her in her dress, unable to help himself and Hope winked.
He looked away, flushed.
Dean snorted, watching the pair. "You're incorrigible…ready to go?"
And Hope looked at the portrait hole like she was preparing for a battle, raising herself and putting steel in her spine and her eyes. "Yes, dear brother," she said with so much resignation, "let's go."
She took his arm and they descended.
Hope had faked a smile almost the entire evening; George could tell. And it was only when they'd gotten through about five songs that she grabbed him and dragged him back up to Morea's room, changing into a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt that made her look grossly underdressed, but George hadn't minded.
She looked better in pants any day.
And it was nice, really nice. Not the kind of nice Fred would like, but Hope and George were always more of a go with the flow kind of couple, less in your face and more…holding hands under the table and sharing secretive glances.
But George didn't think she'd laughed as much as she had when she'd pushed him off the dock, only for him to reach out and pull her down with him.
They'd fallen asleep with damp hair and damp clothes on the couch in Morea's chamber, long after midnight, and with Hope's cheek pressed to his chest, breathing in and out easily, and it was a way that George always wanted to go to sleep.
Hope blinked a few times, coming around slowly.
"You know," a familiar voice said, "I rather like this place…clearly made with your…Tinkerer in mind."
Hope looked around for a brief moment before taking in the sight of the potion room in Thalatta, the bottles lined in the shelves, herbs hanging from the ceiling, a cauldron bubbling before a woman cloaked in raven feathers.
Mirror Lady never really let Hope see her face, though sometimes she could get a hint of her sly smile in a mirror, or even her dark eyes…but Hope had never looked her full in the face.
"You know, you're the second person to call him that," Hope said dryly, running a hand through her hair.
"Does he not tinker?" Mirror Lady mused. "With magic, with potions, with anything that suits his fancy?"
Hope gave a conceding grunt, appraising Mirror Lady. Selenar had said she worked for a god named Morrigan and she couldn't deny that she hadn't looked her up in her off hours.
She was a goddess associated with crows or ravens -which one was actually right was a bit spotty-, one of the Celtic gods who had a lot of aspects of control, but Hope had seen there was a lot of emphasis on war and fate and death, particularly with foretelling doom, death or victory in battle.
"Selenar works for you," Hope said suddenly and the raven cloak stiffened, hiding her shoulders underneath. "You're the one that sent her."
Mirror Lady reached up to grab one of the bottles, peppering in its contents, making a cloud of crimson erupt briefly. "I did. I'm concerned."
"Everyone's concerned," Hope sighed, partially exasperated, partially really fucking tired. "But making deals with gods, historically in my family, doesn't really end well."
"If you're talking about your mother, she was the one that broke her oath—"
"I'm talking about Diane," Hope said shortly and the goddess paused.
"Ah," she said intelligently before sitting down on a stool that Hope was certain wasn't actually in the real room. "There's a lot you have to understand about that situation."
"Like?" Hope demanded stubbornly, fiercely.
"That it wasn't planned, that I respected her immensely, that I still do," Morrigan said seriously.
Hope narrowed her eyes. "Didn't you proposition her last year when she was trying get the records of my abuse?"
Mirror Lady coughed uncomfortably. "I am a simple god," she acquiesced, "and Diane is a beautiful woman."
Well, Hope wasn't blind, she could tell that easily.
"I respected her decision to leave me behind," Mirror Lady said simply, "Diane had control of so little things in life, the one thing she could have, I gave her; the right to raise our son in peace and quiet, without interference."
Hope looked at her. "But he hates you."
Mirror Lady grimaced. "He does, for plausible reasons—"
"And you just accept that?" Hope tried to imagine if her own parents were alive, if they'd split up, if she'd hated one of them. "Part of the reason he hates you is because you haven't tried to get to know him…you're a stranger and parents don't get to choose when kids matter to them."
Mirror Lady actually drew back slightly in surprise and it was hard to think of her as an all-powerful god and not Dean's other mother.
Mirror Lady was silent for the longest time and then she gave a regal nod.
"Do or do not," Hope advised, "there is no try."
That actually caused laughter to bloom out of Mirror Lady and she leaned against the arm of the chair to tuck a loose lock of dark hair behind Hope's ear. "You're a marvel, you know that?" she mused and Hope flushed. "And still the value you place on your own life is minimal at best."
"Yeah, well, we've all got our problems," Hope grumbled. "I'm just the scapegoat." The first one to be blamed, the first one to be thrown to the wolves. "And I'm…I'm really tired."
"I know," Mirror Lady said gently. "It's hard to be the one who knows when everything will end and realizing you can't change or fix anything."
"I've never been very good at fixing things," Hope admitted, leaning back in the chair, "I'm broken enough as is."
Mirror Lady shut her eyes, heaving a heavy sigh, reining herself in briefly. "You're not some flower or a delicate piece of glass. You're a person. And people heal…it could take months, it could take years, and maybe you will never feel like you're as centered or as complete as others, but time will heal scars…the thing about healing is that it's always different for everyone, so you have to find what works for you."
Hope needed therapy, that's what she needed. A lot of therapy.
But who really had the time for that? Not Hope, that was for sure.
Hope rubbed the back of her head, wincing where the familiar throbbing cropped up. It was an old pain, one that Hope had always thought was from one too many bad hits to her head, but she remembered what Diane had said.
"Do memory patches hurt?" she asked and Mirror Lady paused.
"Not unless inexpertly done," Mirror Lady admitted, turning towards her so Hope could see the dark eyes the exact same shape as Dean's, which wasn't very helpful. "Which yours was…it's quite crude and it's the reason we can never speak outside of mirrors or dreams."
"I thought it was covering a memory," Hope said, frowning deeply.
"Oh, it is, but the woman who placed it on you was…gifted." She said the word with so much disdain. "Your patch is more like the kind that's placed on telepaths who don't want to hear other voices in their heads; a temporary fix that wears down the mind's ability to defend itself."
"Lovely," Hope sighed. "Was she the one who put the magical core that's slowly killing me inside me, too?"
"Probably," Mirror Lady conceded.
"Was it my mother?"
That startled her and Mirror Lady recoiled sharply. "No," her tone soothed like ice on a burn, "dear heart, no. Your mother loved you, too much, perhaps, but she loved you enough to break her oath to me, enough to want to hide you from me."
"What deal did she make with you?" Hope watched the potion on the table bubbling and steaming silver.
"Magic in exchange for her firstborn."
Hope arched an eyebrow. "That's very…Rumplestiltskin of you."
Morrigan actually laughed. "I suppose it was…but she agreed to the deal. I think she never intended to have a child, that's the best way to trick me into giving her power and her not losing a child."
"But she fell in love," Hope blinked thickly, "she wanted me."
"She did…and she did all sort of things to keep you safe, from me, from others. I came to you when you were a newborn, so she had that memory tucked away. If nothing else, I know that your parents loved you completely."
Hope couldn't stop them this time and she had to mop at the tears that spilled over. The last thing she felt was a press of lips to her brow and then Hope opened her eyes and breathed.
"Can I ask you something personal, really personal?"
Hope was supposed to be at school. It was into January now and the next task was going to be on her soon. She'd asked that Quinn and Diane not come to this one, which Diane thought translated to she didn't want them to see her as terrified as she had been during the last one.
Diane hadn't seen her since Christmas -Hope and Dean had stayed at Hogwarts for the Ball, one albeit reluctantly- when Quinn had traveled both the kids home for gifts and Hope had enjoyed the 'proper suits for the maladjusted asexual' while Dean was up to his eyeballs in watercolors.
"That seems like an open question." Diane arched an eyebrow.
"It's about Morrigan," Hope said bluntly, toying with her new flask specifically for blood replenishers, taking a few swigs before sipping some pomegranate tea that she loved so much.
Diane froze, setting her mug down much too loudly and Hope winced. "Oh."
"I just…I want to know if she's good, if she's trustworthy," Hope said hollowly. It had been bothering her for a while, since her last dream with Mirror Lady, and no amount of meditation could soothe her unease. "I've had her in my dreams for years, but…you loved her once."
"I did," Diane sighed heavily. "Sweetheart…gods aren't good and they aren't evil, even ones with power over death or chaos, they act their will upon their world without regard to consequence and without thought of petty human disagreements…making things personal with a god takes effort."
"You mean romantically or like determined-to-piss-them-off?" Hope asked, frowning in confusion.
"Hm, I suppose it's a bit of both," Diane conceded, "but in my case…Morrigan was not a good person, but she didn't have to be. Our attraction was mutual, I was not forced into…sleeping with her and I was not forced to have her son. Did I realize it was probably a bad idea to fuck my patron? Oh, yeah. Did I think it would bite me in the ass? For sure. So, I did the full muggle, ran away, had my kid, lived my life…which Morrigan is still a big part of, one that Dean isn't ready to accept…but maybe someday he will, because he deserves her love more than I ever did."
Hope nodded in understanding.
"I hope that helps," Diane smiled. "How's the second task going?"
"It's going," Hope said evasively in a way that said it wasn't going. "I'm working on it."
Diane arched an eyebrow.
"I will work on it as soon as I leave here," Hope promised immediately.
"Atta girl," Diane hummed into her mug as Hope scrambled. "Love ya, sweetheart!"
"Love you, too!" Hope shouted over her shoulder before she vanished out the door. Diane shook her head fondly and laughed.
Hope smoothed her fingers continuously over the surface of the golden egg, her eyes staring into the fire, her lips moving wordlessly as she frowned, trying to puzzle it out.
"Hope, thinking so intensely about it isn't going to change anything," Hermione said with a wide yawn as she finally slid her Arithmancy book shut. Ron had given up several hours ago and had headed back to the dormitory to get some decent sleep, because one of them had to. "It's eleven o'clock, Hope, you should go to bed."
"When I'm in bed I think more," Hope muttered, her eyes still on the fire, "take it with me to the bath…"
"What're you going on about?" Hermione asked in confusion.
"Cedric, he gave me a hint for the Second Task after Yule," Hope said, rubbing her eyes, "I completely forgot about it after all that happened with Hagrid…" Rita Skeeter, in her usual flair for drama, had found out that Hagrid was half-giant and decided that everyone else should know too. "Maybe the egg doesn't scream in water like it does in air," she reasoned as she stood.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked in resignation. "Are you going to lose something else?"
Hope's expression soured. How she'd managed to misplace the Marauder's Map for the second time in two years was as aggravating as it was exasperating. Knowing her, the next generation was going to wind up stealing it from the Caretaker's office long after they'd all graduated. If Hope lived that long.
"No," Hope said bitterly, "I'm gonna take a bath with the egg…I'll let you guys know how it goes. Go to bed, get some sleep."
"I'll try," Hermione promised, "if you do."
Hope pouted and it made her laugh. "Let me know if it works, all right?" And Hope waved her goodbye, waiting until she left before racing up to the stairs to start the bath.
It took longer to fill up because Hope wanted it to go faster, which didn't really help. Once it was full enough, she pulled herself in, egg in hand, not really caring if she was splashing water onto the tile.
Hope took in a deep breath a dropped herself beneath the surface, her fingers twisting the latch to snap it open, but instead of the shrieking sound that she had heard the first time she opened it, she heard singing:
"Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour- the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Hope's head burst through the surface and she inhaled the air greedily for a few moments before sinking down again to hear it a second time, and then a third before she shut the egg and pulled herself out. She murmured the words to herself before she managed to write them out.
And when Ron and Hermione stopped by in the morning to remind her there was class in about an hour, Hope, please for the love of all that's holy, get dressed, they found her slumped over the table with the song scrawled out with notes attached like 'lose something of value?' and 'time limit?' and 'breathe underwater?'
But those questions were best served for after class, after they'd shaken her awake and pushed her to get dressed, which she did so, grumbling bitterly.
Ron and Hermione had yet to see Hope actually have a freak out. She'd had panic attacks before, but that wasn't the same thing, and they were honestly waiting for something to snap.
The second task was tomorrow and Hope didn't have anything to allow herself to breathe underwater.
"George says there isn't a potion," she said tiredly, "he offered to whip something up, but there's no way of knowing that would work by tomorrow…hang on, hey, Neville!"
She bounded over to the boy, who was vaguely surprised at being spoken to so suddenly.
"What, does she think he knows a plant that'll work?" Ron arched an eyebrow and Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"I guess if anyone would know that, it would be Neville." There wasn't anyone who knew magical plants more.
They watched the interest gleam across his eyes as he pulled a book from his bag, speaking to Hope excitedly and showing her a picture in a book and nodding his head to whatever question Hope had. Then she moved on to where Fred and George were, making some gestures with her hands and the twins had identical smirks on their faces.
Hope kissed Fred's cheek soundly before kissing George full on the mouth, something he clearly wasn't expecting, because there were still a few people in the common room and Hope and George rarely did more than kiss cheeks in public. He was still gaping after her when she returned to the couch.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron asked dubiously.
"I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend," Hope smirked. "He's hot."
Ron mimed gagging and Hermione gave Hope a very direct look. "They've seen Gillyweed in Snape's private stores and are going to steal me some later."
"Gillyweed?" Ron asked.
"How do they know what's in Snape's private stores?" Hermione queried.
Hope sniggered. "Have you met my boyfriend, potioneer extraordinaire? I ran into him once stealing some stuff, and lemme say…nothing's hotter than committing crimes."
Hermione burst into giggles, unable to contain herself and Ron rolled his eyes as far back as they could go.
"I think you're the one that turned George onto criminal activities, to be perfectly honest," Ron snorted and Hope gave an exaggerated gasp.
"I'm innocent! George was corrupted long before I came along, just look at Fred!"
Ron snorted again, but a few hours later -after Dean and Hermione had to go see Professor McGonagall- George returned to drop a jar containing what looked like a ball of slimy grey-green rat tails.
"Bon appétit," he told her, his grin a little too sharp, like Fred's, like Hope's, but all Hope did was consider it.
"Can't be worse than half of what Snape threatens to poison me with," she reasoned. "See you tomorrow, boys."
And Ron definitely looked away, gagging when she jerked George towards her with a sharp tug at his waist, kissing him soundly. "Baby, I figured out what to do for your birthday."
"Yeah?" George sounded appropriately winded and Ron makes a hasty escape before he can hear the idea, but apparently it was good, because when he chanced a look back, he was kissing her with reckless abandon.
Ron wondered what he'd done to earn this suffering, he really did.
"Where's Dean and Hermione?" was the first thing Hope asked, not looking ready for the task at all, pale and shaky. Ron wasn't sure how she did that, going from complete focus to quietly anxious in a matter of hours. She didn't bother to force a smile as people passed her by, offering her the best of luck.
"Haven't seen them," Ron admitted, "maybe they headed down early?"
"Maybe," Hope muttered, fiddling with the arm holster that held her wand and her abalone knife.
George had given her a kiss on the cheek before heading into the stands and even Fred had told her that he thought she'd do great.
But Hope was starting to think that the mermaid's song about 'something you'll sorely miss' was about a person, not an item…did that mean that Dean was at the bottom of the Black Lake? A ghostly fear overwhelmed her quite unlike that that she had experienced in the face of the dragon; this was different, this was personal. Whose idea was it to put her brother at the bottom of the lake?
Hope was instantly furious.
"Hope, we're here."
Hope jerked out of her intense thoughts and blinked owlishly before she realized that they'd made it to the Black Lake. She swallowed her fears and handed over her cloak to Ron, clutching the glass jar with Gillyweed tight in her hand as she walked out onto the dock. Ron didn't offer her a hug, just his silent support, and Hope appreciated that.
"Welcome to the Second Task!" Bagman's voice uttered over the noise of the crowd, making her wince. "Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts. These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie at the bottom of the Black Lake. In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simply enough, except for they will have one hour to do so, and one hour only, after that, they'll be on their own." Hope shoved the Gillyweed into her mouth and chewed furiously, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep her from spitting the Gillyweed back up, because gods below was it revolting. "You may begin at the sound of the cannon—"
The cannon blew early and four distinct splashes of bodies hitting water could be heard.
Hope felt like she was burning, a sensation that started at her core and spread outward, enveloping her whole body and forcing her to open her mouth and gasp. But the gasp that led to her inhaling water was just like if she had been above land breathing air…it felt natural. Hope lifted a hand to her neck, awe flooding her face as she felt the protruding gills on the sides.
"Amazing," she said, but only bubbles escaped her as she held up her hands to see the webbing between the fingers and how her feet had thinned into something akin to flippers. "Excellent."
And she beat her legs back and forth, propelling herself forward and into the deepness of the lake. The rushing of the water as she moved past it was the loudest sound in the quiet and she could hardly see more than fifteen feet in front of her.
She soon discovered that the Black Lake was aptly named; the darkness could have easily been compared to night above ground. The dark seaweed grew upwards from the bottom almost entangling her, but Hope swam above it, careful to not touch it. She almost passed over a deep ravine before changing her mind and going straight down, following the direction of the fish.
And then something had grabbed a hold of her leg and she had to reach to her opposite one, where her wand was strapped and point it at the Grindylow that had a tight grip on her.
"Expulso!" Bubbles escaped her mouth a second time, but that didn't stop the spell from working. A red flash shot at the Grindylow, sending it flying off as Hope practically flew in the direction she had been aiming for. If Grindylows were attacking her, that might mean she was getting closer, right?
"How are you getting on?"
Hope let out a startled yell at the sudden voice, turning to stare wildly at the speaker.
Moaning Myrtle giggled at her, amused at how she'd startled the girl. Hope hadn't seen her since second year and the spirit hadn't changed much other than not looking quite as downtrodden as usual, but that could possibly change in an instant.
"Myrtle!" Hope complained, clutching at her heart. "Come on!"
Myrtle giggled louder at that before pointing to her left. "You want to try over there. I won't come with you…I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close…"
Though curious how Myrtle actually knew she was going to be here, but then, she had probably heard some professors talking and had accidentally flushed herself down here, Hope gave her a grin, heading off in the direction she had indicated.
But maybe she had been wrong to do so. Bubbles left her gills, rapid with frustration as she kicked continuously for more than twenty minutes. She was just about to contemplate circling back when she caught a whisper of a tune:
"...An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took..."
She twisted her head and caught sight of a mermaid swimming through the bunches of seaweed and Hope practically launched herself in her direction.
"...your time's half gone, so tarry not
Lest what you seek stays here to rot..."
Hope hardly had time to glance over the beauty of the clearing, stone arches and towers completely covered in algae and other strangely colored water plants that Neville would probably know better. She kicked harder as she twisted around the structures, searching until she found them.
There were four of them, all hanging immobile in the water, fastened by a rope to the ocean floor. Dean, Hermione, and Cho she could easily make out, along with a little girl who could only be Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle.
"Dean!"
Hope's webbed hands clutched at her brother's face. He didn't look like he was even breathing and Hope had to swallow down the bile crawling up her throat. She took in a deep breath sharply and steeled herself before pulling out the abalone knife, flicking it open and beginning to cut.
No sooner than she had freed him did Cedric swim forward with what looked like a bubble over his head. He withdrew his wand and fired a spell at the rope binding Cho before glancing to Hope. "Get lost," he said, his voice a bit distorted by the bubble. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!"
Hope nodded, watching him up and disappear towards the surface, turning back at the sound the Merpeople screeching and her eyes bugged. She had to push back suddenly as a half-shark, half-man approached, and it could only be Krum as he turned his head sideways, ripping through the binding that held Hermione and dragging her away by the arm. That only left Fleur…but where was she?
Hope pulled out her wand and recited the incantation to reveal the presence of humans. "Homenum Revelio." But nothing happened. The lake was empty of human presences except for the three of them. Hope pointed the tip at Gabrielle's bindings. "Relashio!" It was quicker that way.
She then seized them both by the arm and pointed her wand towards the lake floor uttering the banishing charm, giving them a boost to the surface, but Hope still had to pump her legs the rest of the way, her gills and flippers fading fast and all but gone by the time three heads broke through the water into the air.
Hope gulped the air greedily, coughing up any water she'd swallowed.
"What the fuck?" Dean demanded, coming around in total confusion. "Are we in the lake?"
Hope's voice failed her, instead swimming over to Gabrielle who was terrified and just as confused, pointing out her sister at the dock, getting her to swim forward before dragging Dean with her.
"What'd I miss?" Dean asked when they were finally ashore with so many towels around them and Hope opened her mouth to explain before deciding a hug would cover her all their bases. "Was I the damsel? I hope Mum didn't come to see that. That'd be really boring to watch."
Hope burst into laughter and he shoved a towel in her face.
George's arms were wrapped around her and she was trying not to sink into his warmth. "Look, Sirius isn't the best judge of character, and he's a hypocrite, which is why he doesn't like you."
George's expression was a bit sour. He'd been dealing with a lot of misery that Rita Skeeter was at the center of. Really, him and Dean, which was hilarious to anyone that knew either of them, because Rita was making it out like Hope was two-timing George with Dean, since he was the one she'd 'most sorely miss' which, yeah, Dean was her brother, obviously…but people believed gossip as truth as if it was the air they needed to breathe.
Hope had already gotten a few burns and cursed letters -so had George and Dean, but evidently Hope wasn't being a very good role model to young girls and honestly, I'm debating pulling my daughter out of Hogwarts! Good for you, lady, that's not my problem. Hope had handed them off to Kingsley because she was pretty sure sending curses to an underage kid counted as some kind of assault.
Though knowing the ministry, it'd probably just be a fine and a slap on the wrist.
"Hey." Hope cupped his chin, making him meet her eyes. "Forget about him. Nath adores you and he's looking forward to meeting you…and he's more than happy about you to make up for Sirius, I promise, okay?"
She kissed him once, twice, three times, muffling her surprise when he reeled her back in after the third. "Mm," she hummed once they parted, "you and Fred have fun, yeah?"
"I'll give it a go," George mused in a thoughtful manner, stooping suddenly to brush a kiss to the edge of the scar on her throat and Hope squeaked, looking around quickly to see if anyone had seen them, but it was only Ron and Hermione acting like they were interested in the ceiling.
"George, you asshole!" She growled, red in the face with a hand over her neck where the skin still tingled. "We're in public!"
George grinned impishly.
"Oh, you utter…cock," Hope didn't know what she was feeling, but it was somewhere between completely attracted and viscerally…attracted. She had a problem and she had a type, unfortunately.
"Later," he said, still grinning before whispering in her ear, "baby."
"Oh, my gods." Hope's face was beet red and she separated herself from him. "I'm, uh, just going to, um, I'll—" and then she grabbing Ron and Hermione and pulling them out into the crisp February air.
"You've got problems," Ron told her seriously. "Do I want to know what he said to you?"
"No," Hermione decided emphatically, "I think we're both better off not knowing."
Hope gave them both a fierce scowl. "And you're not to mention my love life to my godfather."
"He probably already knows," Ron conceded, shouldering his bag of food higher on his shoulder, "Witch Weekly's pretty popular."
"Great," Hope grumbled, the scowl still present.
"So…think Padfoot's going to be able to eat all this food?" Ron queried as they strolled off towards and through Hogsmeade. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend since Christmas holidays, so of course it was packed, but thankfully hardly anyone spared the three a glance as they moved towards the outskirts.
"This is Padfoot we're talking about," Hope said regaining a bit of her usual flair, "he's probably dying for this food."
An eager, muffled bark agreed with her words, and Hope looked down to grin at the shaggy, black-furred dog who in turn was grinning at her around the newspaper secured in his mouth.
"Aw!" Hope cooed. "Aren't you such a clever boy?" She petted his head affectionately, enjoying the affronted expression immensely before shaking her hand off his head and racing off, turning back in a way of beckoning them forward.
"Ah, my godfather," Hope mused to her friends, "a man of few words."
Ron couldn't resist snorting at that comment as they hiked up and into the mountains, moving higher and higher, until long last when they finally reached a narrow cave. Getting inside was an easy trial and waiting for them was Buckbeak the Hippogriff, looking antsy, and Sirius himself, transformed back into a man.
Hope gave him a very direct look, giving him a small hug that he returned. "I had it sorted, you know," she told him. "You didn't need to risk your neck just to keep an eye on me."
"Four eyes are better than two, aren't they?" Sirius grinned and Hope didn't agree, scowling fiercely.
Hermione cleared her throat loudly. "How about we give them some food, yeah, Hope?"
Hope huffed, but she couldn't deny that Sirius looked like he was in need of a good meal. He was still thin and nowhere near looking healthy, but, at the very least, he no longer looked as wasted. She sighed, acquiescing, waiting until Sirius and Buckbeak had swallowed down several chicken legs before she got fired up again.
"You're going to get yourself thrown back in Azkaban if you keep this up!" Hope hissed furiously.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence!" Sirius grumbled mutinously.
"Hello! You are about a mile away from Hogwarts, Sirius! Remember the last time you were so close? You broke in!"
"That wasn't my fault! I was trying to find Peter!"
"And gave me a concussion along the way!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that you were going to chase me?"
"That's not the point!"
"Uh, guys!" Ron was watching the quarrel with interest but Hermione was rubbing her temple with annoyance. "Seriously? You're going to do this now?"
Sirius took the opportunity to swallow down some pumpkin juice while Hope gave another huff, crossing her arms in irritation and looking away from him.
"Where's Lover Boy?" was the first question out of his mouth once he'd swallowed.
"I can still leave," Hope promised furiously.
"Okay, okay, I'll play nice…"
Hermione honestly wondered which was the adult between the two.
"I want to be on the spot," he told them all in a strangely serious voice. "Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."
"Sirius…"
"Hope…"
Hope sighed heavily, giving Ron an opportunity to change the subject.
"Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch…Ministry Witch Still Missing- Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved," he read aloud, "shouldn't they have been doing this weeks or months ago?"
"Maybe Mr. Crouch's illness wasn't as serious then," Hermione mused before her eyes darkened, "getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he? I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."
Interest colored Sirius' face. "Wait…Crouch sacked his house-elf?"
"At the Cup," Hope explained, "she was found with a wand that was used to make the Dark Mark appear; he sacked her on the spot."
"Whose wand?" Sirius asked, leaning forward as he downed a bit of pumpkin juice.
"Mine," Hope said coolly and she had to duck as Sirius did a spit-take, dousing the rocks near Buckbeak with the juice.
"Hm…that is odd…when did you realize it was gone?" Sirius asked.
"When I saw it," Hope shrugged. She'd never been much of a wand magic kind of girl to begin with and that hadn't changed much.
They must've talked for hours, about the Tournament, about Crouch, about Voldemort, but it was starting to get late when Hope handed Sirius a picture. "This is for you," she said and Sirius took it.
Hope was grinning, looking like a Greek goddess, on the arm of a boy with dark skin and an easy smile. "You upgraded."
She gave him a filthy look. "That's my brother, you ass."
"Oh, oops." Sirius threw a sheepish look her way and she glowered. "You look a lot like your mum when you're pissed."
"Thanks," Hope said without feeling, softening slightly. "George isn't a bad guy, you know, he's a great guy, who respects me and loves me, okay?"
Sirius grumbled. "Okay."
She gave him one last hug, pressing a kiss to his thin cheek before following her friends out, leaving Sirius to look at the picture again. He flipped it over.
Dean and Mari, Yule Ball '95
"Mari?" he murmured to himself in a bit of bemusement.
Ron and Hermione had gotten a bit ahead of her, probably thinking that she was going to be lingering a bit, so Hope made her way back down to Hogsmeade and back to the castle alone and nearly knocking over Fleur in the process.
"Fleur! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hope was quick to apologize, rushing to pick up the books her friend had dropped. "I wasn't really watching where I was going."
"Eet eez alright," Fleur assured her with a bright smile. "I 'ave not seen you in a while. 'Ave you been busy?"
"Sort of," Hope admitted, raking a careless hand through her hair, which didn't keep it from looking windswept. "Gryffindor Tower has been crazy, it's like they didn't think I was going to get this far, and I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not." She was spending more time there before returning to Morea's chamber. Hermione had suggested, several times, that Hope come back to the dormitory but Hope's sleeping habits, nightmares, and tendency to stay up reading and researching kept her from agreeing.
And it was easier to hide that Hope needed a lot of blood replenisher potion if she wasn't sleeping in the dormitory.
Fleur gave a throaty laugh at that. "You are younger than ze rest of us, it does not surprise me."
"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not about that either," Hope added in a wry voice, her eyes glancing over Fleur's items. A new quill and parchment, along with some books on Curse-breaking… "So, I take it you and Bill have become quill-pals, then?"
Fleur's cheeks pinked at Hope's words. "Yes, eez zat a bad zing?" she asked a little defensive.
"Not at all," Hope said, baring her teeth in a grin, "but I, of course, claim full credit for pushing you towards him."
Fleur huffed in indignation. "You are terrible!"
"It has been said," Hope agreed in amusement. "Did he kiss you?"
Fleur reddened further. "Eet was not like zat!" she insisted. "Eet was on my cheek. Eet was sweet!"
"Uh-huh," Hope said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at her friend. "Right…"
"Silence," Fleur grumbled in annoyance. "'Ave you started getting ready for the Third Task?"
"A little," Hope admitted, "I probably should be doing a bit more, but it's not until June."
"And zen you will scramble to prepare," Fleur said wisely. "As you 'ave the last two times."
"Oh, shut up," Hope said, sticking her tongue out at the French champion. The first one she'd had more of a handle on, but even then, she'd been practicing spells almost constantly, "That's just the way I function."
"Eet won't do to be running on lack of sleep for the next task, zough," Fleur said agreeably, earning her a frown.
"Story of my life," Hope snorted before switching the topic so quickly that Fleur stared. "So, how is your little sister?"
"Eet eez funny you should ask about 'er," Fleur with a secret smile, "because she 'asn't stopped talking about you, according to my mozzer."
Hope couldn't even stifle a groan that time. "Oh, no, that's the last thing I wanted."
"You are 'er 'ero," Fleur told her, "she eez very grateful to you for rescuing 'er in ze task."
Hope opened her mouth to say that Gabrielle hadn't really been in any danger, despite the morbidity of the song in the golden egg, but she gave it up as a waste of time.
"My parents wish to meet you," Fleur admitted.
"Huh? Why?" Hope asked flummoxed.
"You are my first friend," she explained, "zey wanted to know if you wanted to come to France for a few weeks after ze end of school."
"Really?" Hope asked a little struck. "That would be…amazing!" She paused, remembering her schedule. "It might just have to be just a week, though, I've got summer class." Fleur gave her a confused look, but Hope waved her off. "Long story…and knowing the headmaster, I'd probably have to give a few people the slip, but yeah, sounds like fun!"
Fleur, through pleased by her response, was confused and surmised there were a lot of things about Hope that weren't strictly normal.
George was in heaven and Hope was laughing, loudly. "Love, this is the best thing I've ever seen."
"Better than me?" Hope asked, batting her eyelashes and George choked, honestly comparing, because Hope was wearing a pair of shorts that made her scars from her accident stand out boldly on her skin, her hair turned a bronze plaited into a rough fishtail.
"Ooh! Don't make me choose!"
Hope laughed again before waving kindly at the woman manning the station, speaking to her in fluid Greek, saying something that made her laugh and return something in the same language.
"What did you say? What did she say?"
"I was just telling her how into potion-making you are," Hope shrugged, "she said she hopes you find something to use in your next potion."
Hope had a slight accent that he doubted she realized she had, probably something she'd picked up from Nath, she'd once said he was Greek.
"I…there's a lot here," George admitted awkwardly, "I don't want to…take all your money."
Hope's eyes softened and that molten black suited her far more than the green or the hazel. "Dearest, it's your birthday, let me splurge a little for you, yeah?"
He almost asked her about the 'dearest' comment but then he thought better of it. "Okay, but I'm not getting much."
"You do you, baby," Hope said affably, and ten minutes later she was paying for his Venomous Tentacula seeds, fairy wings, oocamy eggs, and murtlap tentacles, all very rare ingredients and not really allowed to be sold in Britain, but that didn't mean you couldn't get them. Which maybe wasn't technically legal, but when had Hope or George ever cared about legal. "But I think Snape's figured out you're stealing from him."
"What'd he threaten you with? Detention?" Because he was always threatening Hope, even if she hadn't done anything wrong. "Poison?"
"Veritaserum, actually."
George paused. "That might actually be illegal."
"I'm gonna turn into Moody, I swear, only drinking from my flask." Hope snorted before leaning up to kiss just under his jaw. "Ready to head back?"
And George slid his hand easily into hers with a smile.
The next few months seemed to fly by faster than Hope would have thought possible and it seemed like every day she was spending all of her time not on school work on researching new spells until May was upon her, leaving her only a bit more than a month left to prepare.
(She probably shouldn't've spent a few weeks on that new spell that she was calling Peverell's Mirror Gate, which worked like a Mirror Bridge, except without the bridge, so you stepped through one mirror and stepped out the other. And it was less draining, requiring less magic, which meant it was more valuable to Hope, as limited as she was.)
"Exactly how many spells are you planning on learning for the Third Task?" Ron asked, a little aghast as Hope poured over a thick tome on offensive magic, having finished her Transfiguration work early.
"Not really sure," Hope said, only half paying attention to what he was saying as she mouthed the incantations, making the movements with her wand, "better to over-prepare than to under-prepare, I guess."
"Stunning Spell…Reductor Curse…Conjunctivitis Curse," Hermione read aloud from the book. "You aren't playing around."
"Er, 'death toll,' anyone?" Hope asked with a slightly irked expression as the bell rang for the end of class. It had nothing to do with Ron, of course, Hope was bad tempered as death dates got closer and closer. It had been worse when she was younger but Hope had a booklet dedicated to death dates and Barty Crouch Sr.'s had just come due. It was tonight and Hope was sick to her stomach. She didn't even like Crouch but she didn't like knowing when people were going to die even more.
The buzzing in her ears was only going to get stronger.
"Miss Potter, a moment please."
"Shit!" Hope muttered under her breath, making Ron smirk and Hermione toss her a look of disapproval. Hope ignored it, shoving her books into her bag and standing as Professor McGonagall approached her desk.
Professor McGonagall didn't comment on her not working on Transfiguration homework, much to Hope's relief. "You are to meet Mr. Bagman and the other champions at the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," she told her, "then Mr. Bagman will tell you all about the Third Task."
"Wonderful," Hope muttered to herself, repeating the words hours later in the presence of Cedric as they walked down to field together. The buzzing was getting stronger. "Most likely to die? That would probably be me."
"Oh, come on," Cedric said, nudging her shoulder, "you handled the other tasks pretty well."
"Yeah, well," Hope wrinkled her nose, avoiding look at him too much, as she had the entire year, the symbol of his upcoming death almost too much to bear, "that was different." She blinked a few times, schooling her expression to hide her misery.
"Fleur thinks it's something to do with underground tunnels and treasure," Cedric mentioned, making Hope laugh.
"Yeah, she told me, but I doubt it's that," Hope disagreed, "I told her most of the tunnels are actually inside the castle."
"Which you would know all about."
Hope gave him a small wink and a smirk as they walked across the lawn before they both had to stop and stare in horror.
"What have they done?!" Hope demanded, aghast, running to examine the field that was no longer cut low but was instead gaining height, and Hope didn't want to think about how tall they'd be when the task actually began.
"They're hedges," Cedric said, leaning forward as well, "but why—?"
"Hello there!" Hope had to hide a frown as an all-too-familiar voice called out to them and she and Cedric turned to see Ludo Bagman striding forward with Viktor and Fleur at his sides. "Well what d'you think? Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high."
Fleur smothered a giggle at how Hope seemed to be at a loss for words, too abhorred at how the Quidditch pitch had been ruined.
"Don't worry," he said quickly, taking in their expressions with obvious amusement that they couldn't share, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"
Hope arched an eyebrow, sharing a confused look with Fleur.
"Maze," a low voice said. Hope started for a moment only to realize that it was Viktor that had spoken. She'd hardly heard him speak, unless it was to Hermione.
Hope frowned. She didn't mind mazes or puzzles or riddles…but it looked like the maze was going to end up being incredibly tall. She wondered if she could climb it; Hope was good at climbing. Besides, a maze couldn't be worse than a dragon, right?
Actually, knowing the people in charge…it probably was.
"That's right! A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."
"I'm guessing it's not as simple as it sounds," Hope said dryly. When was it ever?
"Very good, Hope!" Hope thought that if he was any more excited then he would be floating. "There will be obstacles. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures—" Hope and Cedric paled immediately. "—then there will be spells that must be broken...all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." He nodded towards Hope and Cedric. "Then Mr. Krum will enter...then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"
Hope grimaced, looking to Cedric. She wasn't in Care for Magical Creatures anymore, but she'd heard the stories from Ron to know a lot of the creatures weren't the kind you wanted to run into, especially in a maze.
"Very well…" He glanced around to the four. "If you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly..."
He had started to move towards Hope, like usual -Hope didn't know what his deal was with her, but she'd mentioned it to Quinn who'd told her rather stonily that it was probably best if she was never alone with Bagman, which Hope thought was fair-, when Viktor captured her attention.
"Could I haff a vord?" he inquired.
Hope's eyebrows rose. "Uh, sure." She wasn't sure if they'd ever talked to each other privately, apart from the occasional approving nod. She waved goodbye to Fleur and Cedric and assured the ever-insistent Bagman that he didn't need to wait for her.
"Vill you valk vith me?" Viktor asked.
"Sure," Hope said carefully, giving him an odd look before walking along side him as they passed by the maze to walk along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was very late now and the sun had almost completely vanished on the horizon, leaving the slightest haze of light. Hope didn't say anything when she caught him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. Her name was famous, even in Bulgaria, but she was never quite what anyone expected.
"So," Hope said uncomfortably, "what is this really about?"
"Hermy-own-ninny."
Hope stifled her chuckles at how Viktor pronounced Hermione's name. She didn't think he'd ever get her name right…but, honestly, Hermione was the last thing she'd've thought that Viktor would want to talk about.
"I vont to know if there is anyone she has…" He cut himself off looking a little embarrassed and Hope hid an amused smile.
"Dated?" Hope offered helpfully. "No, Hermione's never really had any one show her that much interest." Ron wouldn't really appreciate that, but he and Hermione were certainly skilled at refusing to admit their feelings to one another.
"She talks about you and that-Ron- often," he said as Hope cast her eyes into the darkness, getting the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched.
The buzzing was getting stronger.
She knelt down to reach a hand out to a stray garden snake slithering in the lush green.
"Yeah, she would," Hope said absently, "we're all friends." She held the snake's head to her ear, frowning as she listened intently to its hiss…her wand was in her hand in a matter of seconds.
"Someone's out there," she said steadily. "Lumos!"
The light that erupted from her wand was so bright that it made the person stagger away from the trunk of an oak tree that he had been hiding behind. Hope almost dropped the snake in surprise. "Mr. Crouch?"
He hardly looked like the man that Hope had snarled at back in October. Of course, he hadn't been looking very well then, either, but now his robes were hanging loose on him, ragged and ripped, his hair in complete disarray, and his eyes a touch wild. The shadow of death hanging over him was impossibly black and Hope choked on her tongue briefly.
"Vosn't he a judge? Isn't he vith your Ministry?" Viktor asked, taking a step back, unnerved, but Hope ignored him.
"Mr. Crouch?" Hope asked carefully, the snake curling around her arm as she stepped forward, but Viktor grabbed her arm.
"Is he safe?"
"Only one way to find out," Hope reasoned as she approached further, close enough now to hear what he was saying.
"...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament," Mr. Crouch was saying, "Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..."
He was talking like it was before Halloween when the champions had been chosen…that couldn't be a good sign.
"Mr. Crouch?" she repeated, but he didn't seem to hear her, like she wasn't even there.
"...and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen ... do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."
He stumbled away and Hope reached out a hand to steady him, but he recoiled. "Mr. Crouch?" she repeated. "Are you all right?" Because it was clear that he wasn't. "Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"
He didn't answer her, and a glance to Viktor told her that she wasn't the only one who was apprehensive about his condition.
"Vot is wrong with him?" he asked in alarm.
"He's acting…a little off." It was an understatement and Hope doubted she knew him well enough to judge, something she had always been glad of; better to not know the one that had destroyed Sirius' life. "I should grab—"
"Dumbledore!"
Hope yelped as he pulled her by her robes towards him. Viktor raised his wand to fire a spell, but Hope held up a hand. "It's all right, I was just a little surprised, that's all." She turned her eyes towards Mr. Crouch. "Mr. Crouch…do you need to see Dumbledore?"
He nodded fervently, his eyes rolling. "I need...see...Dumbledore...I've done...stupid...thing…must...tell...Dumbledore..."
"Mr. Crouch," Hope said with more patience than before, "We can take you to Dumbledore, but you're going to have to walk on your own."
It was as if her voice had finally penetrated his ears and he looked at her in a haze of confusion.
"Who...you?" he breathed, curious like a child in a strange world. His eyes didn't even do the typical flick up to her forehead like everyone's did.
"I-I'm a student here," Hope said, befuddled by the question.
"You're not his?" he asked in a feverish manner.
Hope didn't have any idea who he was talking about, but she decided it would be better to just go with: "No."
"Dumbledore's?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the moon, bright and wide and just a little terrifying, but still nowhere close to the Blood-Stained Tree.
"Yes." Hope's knees almost buckled when he pulled more tightly on her robes, throwing more weight on her than she had ever been used to.
"Warn…Dumbledore…" He rasped, clutching her shoulders so hard Hope was sure she was going to get bruises, and then it was like a switch had been flipped and he was talking to air again. "Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge." In fact, he was talking to her like she was 'Weatherby'. "Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.S, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."
"Mr. Crouch, I'm going to need you to let me go," Hope said calmly, "so I can go and get Dumbledore—" The snake tightened over her arm, rearing its head as if to bite.
"Don't...leave...me!" he whispered, his mouth gaping and his pupils the size of saucers. "I...escaped...must warn...must tell...see Dumbledore...my fault...all my fault...Bertha...dead...all my fault...my son...my fault...tell Dumbledore...Hope Potter...the Dark Lord...stronger...Hope Potter..."
Hope gritted her teeth together. The buzzing was making it hard to hear now…the last time it'd happened, she'd gotten a terrible headache and it was so close now. Hope was aching to scream.
"Viktor," she said sharply and he stood to attention on reflex, "there's a suit of armor outside the Great Hall with the Slytherin crest. Tell it it's lady wants it to get the headmaster, tell it that it's an emergency."
And if Viktor thought it was an odd thing to ask for, he didn't say, he just nodded seriously and sprinting away, leaving Hope with Mr. Crouch.
"Mr. Crouch," Hope grasped one of the arms he was using to cling to her, "what about the Dark Lord getting stronger?"
"Terrible," Mr. Crouch breathed, "terrible…his…little thief…"
Hope didn't understand. "Did someone steal something from him? Did Bertha?"
"Nononono," Mr. Crouch shook his head violently and Hope remembered what she'd seen through that door in her mind before school even started.
"She has robbed me of more than you can imagine."
"I stole something," Hope realized before giving Mr. Crouch a little shake. "What was it?"
Mr. Crouch was shaking all over and he leaned forward to start to whisper, but then something hit Hope in the back of the head and the buzzing blocked out everything before it silenced and Hope faded into blackness.
She hardly slept after the fiasco of that night. Viktor had managed to get her message sent, but by the time they'd been found, Hope was knocked out and Mr. Crouch was gone and Hope had tiredly corrected that he was 'dead, not missing' in front of Snape, who apparently had a problem with her not actually seeing his supposed death.
"Wow," Hope had said loudly, "you mean you actually want evidence? Didn't seem that important to you last year, so I must've knocked my head really hard."
That hadn't gone over well but Hope didn't care. She'd been escorted back up to the Tower, telling Ron and Hermione what happened before they all decided to hole up in Morea's room, waiting until first light to send a letter out to Sirius.
"Maybe you should tell Nath too," Hermione suggested as they walked towards the spire that held the school and student owls.
"Nath's got his own life, and his twin brother's visiting him this week," Hope said in an exhaustive manner. "I don't want to worry him…and Hyp is apparently a lot of handle." Hope liked Hyp, though -strange name notwithstanding because how did you have twins and name one 'Hyp' and the other 'Nathaniel'?- he was eccentric and never let anyone tell him what to do, which was all the more amusing because it exasperated Nath to no end.
"Ooh, poor guy," Ron uttered, hiding a yawn with difficulty.
"Tell us again what Mr. Crouch said," Hermione told Hope, making her friend's shoulders slump slightly.
"I've told you a hundred times!"
"Then make it a hundred-and-one!"
Hope gave a long sigh. "Alright, he was pretty insistent on seeing Dumbledore and he said he'd done something stupid…something about it being his fault that Bertha Jorkins was dead, something about his son, and Voldemort getting stronger."
She hadn't told anyone about her supposedly stealing something from Voldemort, mostly because she didn't know what exactly it was that she'd stolen…maybe he counted losing his body as a theft?
Ron flinched as Hope said the name. "But, he was mental, it wasn't like he even knew what he was saying when he said that."
"You weren't there," Hope pressed insistently. "He sounded pretty sane when he talked about Voldemort."
"But he was insane!" Hermione added.
Hope glared. "Thank you, I hadn't quite figured that out for myself."
"Whoa, easy!" Ron stepped between them before a rare fight could break out. "We all need to calm down!"
Each girl took a calming breath and fell silent as Hope tied the letter to a grey-feathered owl, grateful that Hedwig was still out hunting and wouldn't see her using someone else instead of her.
"We need to see Professor Moody," Hermione said at long last, "maybe he found Mr. Crouch." That's what he'd been sent out to do last night before Hagrid had escorted Hope away.
"His corpse, you mean," Hope muttered.
"We don't know that he's dead," Ron interjected pointedly.
"Trust me," Hope said and they both thought her eyes looked uncommonly old, "all they're going to find is a corpse."
"So, you say, but a corpse is still something to find, isn't it?" Hermione's tone was very direct and Hope didn't have the energy to keep arguing about it.
"Shh!" Ron hissed suddenly and they all fell silent at the sound of two familiar voices grew steadily closer, arguing lowly, but still echoing off the stone all the same.
"—that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that—"
"—we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did—"
"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"
"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"
Fred and George stared at the three fourth years who had clearly heard what they had just been saying.
"What're you doing here?" Ron said at the exact same time as Fred.
"Sending a letter," George and Hope said, the former defensively and the latter in bemusement.
"What, at this time?" Hermione and Fred demanded.
"Fine," Fred said, clearly trying to downplay the situation, but George looked much too tense for Hope to believe his act, "We won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us."
"Who're you blackmailing?" Ron asked in suspicion.
George forced a smile onto his face, but it was clearly faked. "Don't be stupid, I was only joking."
"Right," Ron said in a voice that told him he didn't believe that for a second, "and if Hope stabbed you, you'd apologize to her."
George arched an eyebrow and Hope snorted.
"You never know, he might be into that," Fred conceded.
George glowered at his twin with a red face, while Hope rolled her eyes. "He's not a masochist."
Ron gagged. "You both disgust me."
Hope smirked widely. "Snogging behind suits of armor while Snape walks past is, like, prime snogging location, no lie."
"You're the worst," George told her, clearing his throat loudly.
"That's why I'm leaving you for Fred," Hope promised, blowing said boy a kiss. Fred winked back.
Ron cleared his throat, trying to get them back to the original topic. "Blackmail?"
"I've told you before, Ron," Fred said with warning, "keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but—"
Hermione scowled and Hope sighed at the ceiling.
"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," Ron said stoutly, glowering at them like his mother. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."
"I was joking," George insisted. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made prefect."
"No, I won't!" Ron looked as though he had never been quite so insulted in his life as George released the barn owl with their letter outside.
"Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later." He tried to follow Fred but Hope barred his exit, staring him down with a fierce frown. He sighed. "What? Going to judge me too?"
Hope really didn't have the energy to, though, so all she asked was "Can I have a hug?"
George was surprised by the request and even more startled by how she sagged into him. "Rough night?" he surmised. "Nightmares abound?"
Hope didn't respond.
"Hey, love—" He craned his neck to look down on her and stare. "She just fell asleep on me."
"Yeah, she hasn't been sleeping that great," Hermione said, patting his arm kindly, "remember to tuck her in, she's been really cold lately."
"Hang on, where're you two going?" George asked, maneuvering his girlfriend so he was holding her bridal style. She was lighter than the last time he'd carried her; he didn't like to think about how much weight she'd lost during the tournament.
"We've got class in a little bit," Ron pointed out, "and I don't think Hope's going to make it to that."
Hermione waved cheerily as they left him with Hope, staring after them, open-mouthed.
Hope was staring at the door again. She didn't like it, it was something in her mind that she hadn't put there and she really didn't like that, the same way she didn't like wand magic, or having a magical core forced inside her.
And doors worked two ways, so Hope had done what she could and literally barricaded in with so many chains and locks. You couldn't get past it without making a lot of noise, but Hope's curiosity was one of her worst qualities.
When she walked through it to the other end, she was looking out of the ripped apart room into the same darkened room with the armchair holding Voldemort turned away as it had been the last time she'd seen it, with the large snake coiling itself around the foot pegs, while Pettigrew was sprawled, whimpering before him.
"You are in luck, Wormtail." Voldemort's cold voice was sharp in the quiet. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead."
Hope swallowed. Was he talking about Mr. Crouch?
It was in relief that Wormtail gasped out: "My Lord, I am…I am so pleased…and so sorry…"
"Nagini." It took Hope a moment to remember that that was the snake's name. "You are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all…but never mind, never mind…there is still Hope Potter…"
Hope's mouth thinned into a hard line.
"Now, Wormtail," he continued, "perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…"
Fear shone in his eyes. "My Lord…no…I beg you…"
"Crucio!"
Hope's eyes shot open and she breathed out, looking around herself in confusion before realizing it was the bed chamber attached to Morea's room. She was tucked in and beside her, on top of the covers was George, sleeping easily with the Book of Potions open on his stomach.
She smiled fondly before easing herself carefully out of the room to down about half a gallon of blood replenisher, returning to covers. And when George came around later, it was to find Hope tucked against him, face buried in his chest and sleeping far better than she had in weeks.
He smiled and went back to sleep.
Hope went for a very obvious approach that no one else had stopped to consider.
She mapped the maze and checked every night to make sure it hadn't changed, because she wasn't certain that the officials wouldn't change it…but they also might not've expected something so…muggle as making a map to guide her.
Not that she wasn't studying up to her eyeballs.
(She didn't even notice when Mrs. Weasley neglected to send her an Easter egg, apparently believing that Hope was two-timing George with Dean, which everyone agreed was ridiculous; Quinn and Diane sent her chocolate-covered pomegranate clusters and Dean chocolate and peanut butter eggs)
She was pretty sure that Professor McGonagall was worried that she might actually die, which was why she was slightly back to the old arrangement of missing out on classes, but it was just Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, this time around.
She didn't have any final exams to plan for, but they were giving her completion credit for studying for the task, which Hope appreciated, so she studied her way through the books in that room on the seventh floor that she had no idea what the name of was.
"Hope, sweetie," Angelina said gently at the table, "I'm saying this from a place of love…you need to get your head out of that book."
"Place of love?" Hope arched an eyebrow before scowling down at the Daily Prophet. "Oh, what's Rita saying about me now?"
She grabbed the paper before anyone else could stop her.
"Hope Potter "Disturbed and Dangerous"," she read out archly. "Ah, taking the approach she did with my mother, I see… 'seems to be familiar with unsavory elements such as the magician Henry Fogg, whose use of horomancy has resulted in his ban from Greater London.'" Hope snorted. "Well, I guess that's why an Auror for the MoM is living in Greece, but honestly, horomancy? There are other specialties that you would've thought were more concerning. You know, like necromancy or, I don't know, precognition—"
"What's that?" Ron hissed to Hermione.
"Seeing things before they happen," Hermione replied.
"Hm, must make winning the lottery easy."
"'Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."'" Hope scowled fiercely. "A member of the Dark Force Defense League who wished to be unnamed? Whatever, he clearly relies on prejudice to solve his problems. Parseltongue is an inherited skill."
Hope threw the paper back down in annoyance, running her hands back to hike her hair into a high bun.
"You okay?" George asked carefully.
"People are idiots and that's not likely to change." Hope rolled her eyes and George kissed her cheek.
"Ignore them," Alicia offered sagely, "you're gonna be great tonight."
Hope's nerves were starting to kick up again. "Thanks," she said.
"I have an idea!" Hermione said suddenly, practically vibrating in excitement. "I think I know…because then no one would be able to see…even Moody…and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge outside the hospital wing…but she's not allowed…she's definitely not allowed…I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library– just to make sure!"
"Do you think she's ever going to tell us anything?" Ron demanded of Hope as Hermione raced through the doors of the Great Hall, jostling a pair of Hufflepuff second years as she did so.
"Doubtful," Hope said abysmally, momentarily distracted by Professor McGonagall coming up to her.
"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," Professor McGonagall said and Hope promptly panicked.
"But…I thought the task wasn't until tonight!" She did a frantic double take that would have been quite comical if she had been joking.
"I'm aware of that, Potter," Professor McGonagall said dryly. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."
And then she strode away, leaving Hope gobsmacked in her wake. Hope hadn't been back to the Dursleys in over a year, but she hadn't told anyone that she'd been effectively kicked out following Marge's death, like Hope had caused her death, which was ridiculous because she'd been in Scotland at the time.
Cross her fingers for someone else.
"Later, baby." She kissed George's cheek, ignoring all their friends' cat-calling and making kissy-faces at the pair of them, before following after Professor McGonagall.
Fleur stood up eagerly, heading off in the direction the professor had indicated, leaving Hope horrified as she entered the room. The three of the other champions were already greeting their own parents, so where—
A smile bloomed across her face. "Mum! Quinn!"
The pair were looking as radiant and as imposing as usual and they weren't nearly as well-dressed as the other parents. Quinn's multicolored dreadlocks were tied back into a very thick ponytail, eye hidden behind their usual yellow-lensed glasses. Diane was wearing jeans and looking like she was off to the grocery store.
They both embraced her easily, laughing. "What, you thought we wouldn't come to see you again?"
Hope grimaced. "I didn't want you to come to the last one because—"
"You were freaking out?" Quinn asked arching an eyebrow. "Yeah, we figured. This is you we're talking about. Luckily, I know a great therapist."
Hope opened her mouth to say something to that when something small latched onto her waist. She looked down hardly surprised to find little Gabrielle Delacour with her arms wrapped around her, smiling angelically upwards. Gabrielle was as fond of Hope as she had been the day she pulled her out of the lake. Hope didn't mind too badly; the girl was rather a sweet, if a bit shy.
She hid her face when Diane and Quinn looked at her curiously.
"Gabrielle," Hope said, "why don't I get you back to your mum, yeah?"
She gave her parents a sheepish smile with a murmur of "One moment," before leading the eight-year-old back to Fleur and her mother, who was taller than Fleur but no less radiant and breathtaking. Both Fleur and her mother had been watching their exchange in interest and amusement.
"You must be 'Ope," Fleur's mother smiled. "Fleur 'as told us so much about you."
Hope shook her hand with a faint grin. "All bad things, I'm guessing."
Fleur laughed. "Of course not!"
"Lie," Hope sniggered as Gabrielle released her with a pout, "well, I've got to get back to my own parents, see you, Fleur."
Fleur watched in a bit of bemusement as Hope returned to her group, looping an arm around on of their arms.
"Why don't you give us a tour, sweetheart?" Diane offered, leaning her head against the top of Hope's smiling faintly. "I've only been here to give that aggravating headmaster of yours a stern talking to."
Hope sniggered, trying not to be sour about him in general. "Yeah, well he definitely deserves that…yeah, come on…"
She tugged them forward towards the door, almost running into the Diggorys.
"There you are, are you?" Amos Diggory said, looking Hope up and down like he was sizing her up and she didn't come close to measuring up. "Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"
Hope threw a look Cedric's way, unimpressed.
"Ignore him," Cedric advised quietly. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeters article about the Triwizard Tournament – you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."
"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did she?" Mr. Diggory pointed out fiercely, raising his voice a bit. "Still… you'll show her, Ced. Beaten her once before, haven't you?"
"I'm sorry," Hope said, equally loudly, dripping in saccharine, "I didn't catch your name the last time we met, you know, when you were too busy shoving the fact that I was a victim of a dementor attack in my face."
"Amos!" his wife reproached while he purpled and Hope strode out of the door without a look back.
"Wizards," Quinn told her sagely, "all bark, no bite."
And Hope burst into laughter. "Come on, I'll show you where I sleep…" And she tried not to think that that night would mark the second time that she'd have to strike through a name for a death occurring that year. She swallowed down the bile and forced a smile onto her face.
The day passed easily into night and before Hope knew it, her entire day had gotten away from her, but in the very best of ways. Quinn and Diane knew she disliked wand magic immensely, so seeing her in a place where it was so prevalent was incredibly eye-opening for them. Her discomfort wasn't overt, but they had gotten pretty good at reading her to see it was there.
"One day," Hope had said, "I'll be done with this wand magic."
Personally, Diane hoped that was sooner rather than later.
"Babe, you look hot and I don't think that George will survive," Quinn told Hope seriously at dinner, causing laughter to burst out and George turned red in the face.
"What the hell, Quinn?" he managed out. "I thought you liked me!"
"Oh, honeybear, I do, I promise," Quinn simpered, "but my girl's number one, you know that."
Hope sniggered while Diane choked on her drink.
"I thought I was number one!" Dean said, offended.
"You were born on the same day, so you get to share the number," Quinn waved him off. "You're basically the same person."
"You need to get your remaining eye checked," Dean told them sourly as Hope howled with laughter with Ron and Seamus.
Hope was the only one not wearing student typical robes, instead she was dressed a little similarly to Diane, wearing jeans and a jacket, but it was her basilisk jacket, so it shimmered in the light, her hair pulled back into a black fishtail, and her knives secured.
George could do worse.
(George didn't think he could do better, which was the important part)
And when it was time to go and Hope bid her friends and family farewell, giving George a swift kiss, waving, and linking arms with Fleur as they headed down to the Quidditch pitch.
"Your family eez lovely," Fleur mentioned with a smile. She didn't comment on Hope not looking like Diane or Quinn.
Hope smiled slightly, nerves starting to get the better of her. "Yeah, they're pretty great…your mum was nice too, sorry I couldn't stay longer to chat."
"Don't worry about eet," Fleur assured her, "you can talk to 'er more after ze task eez over."
"And won't that be a relief," Hope said with a nervous laugh, dropping a hand to tap against the blade belted at the back of her waist, using the other to tug on the end of her plait.
It seemed like hours before everyone started to show up and fill the stands.
"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," Professor McGonagall as she came up to the four champions, gesturing to herself as well as Hagrid, Moody, and Professor Flitwick, all wearing large red stars on their uniforms. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send up red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"
They all could only nod, too nervous to talk.
Professor McGonagall and Hagrid both gave her whispered wishes of luck, but she could hardly hear them as she moved to a spot before the maze, jittery with nerves.
"KICK SOME ARSE POTTER!"
She jumped at the sound of Fred and George's yell, glancing back into the crowd to see Dean with his mother and Quinn. She couldn't help but beam up at them as Hermione jumped up and down, cheering with them. Quinn tilted their glasses down to wink their one good eye and Diane was clapping, grinning.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Bagman's voice grew and echoed around the stadium. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied for first place, with eighty-five points each– Mr. Cedric Diggory and Miss Hope Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"
The explosion of cheers made Hope blush and she blew a kiss in George's direction, laughing as the Weasleys joked as to who it was for. Obviously, it had been aimed towards Fred, not George…or at least, that was how he took it; she could barely see his wink from where she was. Before Ginny piped up that Hope had been looking at her, obviously!
"In second place," he continued, "with eighty points– Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!"
Durmstrang cheered wildly along with a good portion of the Slytherins.
"And in third place– Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!" The Beauxbatons students applauded loudly with a few select other students.
"So…on my whistle, Hope and Cedric!"
Hope tensed, turning back to the maze, readying to run into it, her wand held tightly in her hand, the maze map in her pocket. "Three-two-one—" The whistle pierced the air and Hope shot inside.
"Lumos!" she hissed, following the path on swift feet until she came to a fork, almost crashing into Cedric in the process, but she didn't wait for him, she raced left, leaving him behind. Unfortunately for Hope, though, she had moved no more than about thirty feet when she happened across her first obstacle.
Hope went stark white at the sight.
It was huge, with a dragon's tail that swished back and forth, the body of a grey-furred goat, and with teeth bared from a lion head.
As much as Hope enjoyed Greek myths, the Chimaera was not a beast that would have ever wanted to face. Hope moved very slowly to replace her wand in her fore-arm holster and to unsheathe the blade at her back, flicking it to the full length sword she'd never been very good at using.
The Chimaera watched her every movement.
"Ooh-kay," Hope mumbled lowly, "please put a known-wizard killer beast in here, yes, very logical…maybe it's not into—" But she had to roll to avoid it as it pounced, twisting back into a standing position, and slicing the blade at it, but the most she did was slice off a few hairs before the sharp dragon tail grazed her hip, where the jacket stopped, ripping open the skin a little.
Hope bit back a cry of pain as she pressed a hand against the cut, ignoring the flare of that shot over her skin. It wasn't deep but it stung and Hope couldn't use her blood runes.
"Fuck," Hope hissed as it leapt at her, just barely managing to sink the sword into its underbelly. It roared and whimpered as Hope pulled the sword out, but she didn't wait around, jumping over it and re-sheathing the sword, removing her wand and the bit of parchment in her pocket. She'd been in worse pain.
She took the next left and took a few violent steps back, choking on her tongue.
The Blood-Stained Tree was there, base thick, branches twisted, the blood still wet and dripping on it. Seeing it in her dreams never quite compared to the real thing, but it was no coincidence that it was in the maze now.
"Nice try," Hope gritted out, "Riddikulus!"
The boggart gave a small pop and erupted into confetti like a twisted party favor, and then Hope was off again, taking the next left, then a right, and another right—
She was so distracted by the strange noises that she walked right into her next obstacle which was a cloud of golden mist. She yelled as the world twisted and suddenly it was as if she was on the sky and she could fall into the bottomless pit that was the sky. Hope stood frozen, a bit terrified of moving when a sudden scream pierced the air.
"Fleur!?"
But there was no answer.
Hope steeled her nerves, screwing her eyes shut as she lifted one foot with difficulty from the grass, and she fell– to the ground once the world had returned to normal. She gasped for breath, not particularly enjoying the enemy that hadn't been something she could fire a spell at.
But she had to get moving so she hoisted herself, pausing at yet another fork in contemplation. That was the direction that Fleur's scream had come from; she was sure of it. But Fleur and Hope had agreed to not come to each other's aid in the maze, they wanted a fair match, so if one was taken down, then the other had a higher chance of winning. So, she turned in the opposite direction, following it by wand-light.
"What are you doing?!"
Hope froze at Cedric's voice, harsh and angrier than she would have ever thought it could have been. She started towards his voice, without really meaning to. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"
"Crucio!" Viktor's voice incanting that curse made her blood run cold even without Cedric's pained yells shattering the night.
"Reducto!" The hedge before her blew out from the force of her spell and she ran through pointing her wand. "Stupefy!" Her blindly cast spell struck true and Viktor was thrown off his feet, his spell cancelling as he made contact with the ground, unmoving.
"Cedric!" Hope, forgetting that she shouldn't have been assisting Cedric like she had agreed not to for Fleur, raced to his side, pulling him upward with difficulty, her hand still slick from the blood from her side. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Cedric rasped, his voice strained from the brief torture. "Yeah…I don't believe it…he crept up behind me…I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me…"
"Maybe he's been cursed," Hope offered weakly, making Cedric scoff lightly. "Did you hear Fleur scream?"
"Yeah, you don't think Krum got her too?" Cedric asked, eyeing the fallen Durmstrang champion with disgust.
Hope remained silent. She didn't want to say what she was thinking as she raised her wand and sent up a shower of crimson sparks. "We should go," she said finally.
"Right…see you…"
Hope went back through her hole to get herself back on track, running and running. She must've hit three more traps before she came upon the worst one.
A sphinx…great, that was just what Hope needed. Hope might've been good at riddles every now and again, but sphinxes were supposed to be the masters at riddles, which didn't make Hope feel too good about her chances.
"You are very near to your goal," the sphinx said, her voice low and almost guttural. "The quickest way is past me. The only way to pass is to answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess- I let you pass. Answer wrongly– I attack. Remain silent- I will let you walk away from me unscathed."
Hope breathed in and out deeply, steeling herself. "All right, let's hear it."
The sphinx stilled her rapid pacing to face her and recite the riddle for Hope to solve:
"Only one color, but not one size,
Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies,
Present in sun, but not in rain,
Doing no harm, and feeling no pain,
What am I?"
Hope was quiet for the longest moment.
"A shadow," she realized and the sphinx stepped aside.
Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats when a loud "FUCK THIS SHIT!" pierced the air and someone managed to hoist themselves onto the top of a hedge, taking a leap to the next one, nearly falling, but managing to right themselves.
Quinn snorted approvingly.
It was pure chance, really. Hope had wanted to get there first, not because she wanted eternal glory or the reward, nothing like that, but because she didn't want Cedric to die and the buzzing in her ears was so loud.
It had been a vain thought, she knew. You couldn't stop death; you couldn't even delay him. If you were meant to die, you were going to.
But Cedric was someone she liked and she didn't want him to die.
So, when her hand grasped one of the handles on the Triwizard Cup, she was pleased for exactly one second before she realized Cedric was on the other side. She was so angry, she wanted to hit him, but they'd both grabbed it and Hope was jerked through space to land violently on the ground, sending Hope sprawling in a haze of confusion and pain.
She swallowed thickly, trying to right herself, but everything was aching and they were so far from Hogwarts and the shadow hanging over Cedric had never been blacker.
They had landed in a graveyard. It was dark and cold and the gravestones were covered in moss and vines, many with names showing wear from the elements.
She stood, looking at one of the tombstones.
Tom Riddle
Hope swallowed thickly.
"Did anyone tell you the Cup was Portkey?" Cedric asked her, pulling her attention back to where they were at present and then he was looking at her and seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you injured—?"
"Cedric," Hope rasped. "I'm so sorry."
The buzzing was dulling everything. She could barely hear the figure approaching, drawing closer and cradling something smile in his arms. Her forehead was giving her an aching headache, nothing like in first year, but it was there, a painful echo of how it had once felt.
She barely heard the words "Kill the spare," before the buzzing grew loud and then abruptly silent and Hope's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed on the ground.
It was only moments later that she came around, bound tightly against a gravestone, a fresh cut down her arm and Pettigrew was holding a vial over a cauldron, missing a hand that was bleeding profusely. And Cedric's body was an unmoving corpse.
"B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe." Hope quickly forced her eyes away as it glowed bright white. By the time Hope had opened her eyed once more, there was a ghostly mist hanging in the air, and to Hope's horror, a silhouette of a man could be seen from within, leaving the cauldron.
"Robe me," the voice from before demanded, and though in pain, Wormtail was quick to comply, taking the robes from before and pulling them over his master's head as the mist dissipated and Hope was left staring into the face of the man that had killed her parents. He was pale like the moon and he had eyes as red as freshly spilled blood and his nose was flat and had snake-like slits for nostrils.
This was Lord Voldemort.
If there was one thing that could be said about Hope, it was that between Voldemort and the Tree, she thought the Tree far more terrifying. Voldemort might've been a murderous monster who had slaughtered many, but he was still a man.
And men could be killed.
She waited until he'd turned away from her to squeeze her cut arm back into the bindings, struggling to reach the hilt of her blade. If she could just get free, get to her wand and Cedric and the Portkey, she'd be safe, but that was a lot of 'if's.
Her fingertips barely brushed against hilt when she had to freeze as he turned his scarlet eyes on her once more. High, cold laughter filled the air as he withdrew a wand, thin and white like his fingers and used it to throw Wormtail to a gravestone not far from Hope.
"My Lord…" he whimpered, "my Lord…you promised…you did promise…"
"Hold out your arm," he said, his voice uncaring, but relief sparked in Wormtail's eyes.
"Oh Master…thank you, Master," he cried, holding out the arm that was still bleeding quite profusely from him cutting off the hand at the wrist, but Voldemort laughed a second time at that.
"The other arm, Wormtail."
The whimpers returned. "Master, please…please…"
But Voldemort ignored him, forcing the sleeve of Wormtail's left arm away and revealing a tattoo of some sort there, a skull with a snake spilling from its mouth; the Dark Mark that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup.
"It is back," he said, his voice soft. "They will all have noticed it…and now, we shall see…now we shall know…" And then his finger made contact with the mark, burning it black and making Hope's scar ache with new pain as she managed to grasp the hilt firmly.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he mused, gazing upwards to the sky above as if searching for something amongst the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
His eyes fastened upon her, dark and glittering in the night. "Ah, Hope Potter…so long it's been…"
"Not long enough," Hope snarled, struggling against her bindings.
He seemed to be amused by that. "You sit, Hope Potter," he continued, "upon the remains of my late father. A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death…"
The headstone she was tied to cracked in her fury.
"Struck a nerve, have I?"
"Don't you dare say a thing about my mother," Hope seethed, eyes flashing and the hazel darkening until it was blacked out entirely.
His laugh sent a chill down her spine. "Ah, so proud to be the child of a Mudblood…pity…You see that house upon the hillside, Potter?" Hope briefly redirected her attention to the mansion from before that must have been the place he was hiding out in, the one beyond the door in her mind. "My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was…He didn't like magic, my father…He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage…but I vowed to find him…I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle…"
Hope tightened her grip on her blade.
"Listen to me, reliving family history…why, I am growing quite sentimental…But look, Hope!" Hope's eyes involuntarily drifted in several directions where cloaked figures were melting out of the shadows. "My true family returns…"
Hope watched in disgust as each of them fell to their knees and kissed the hem of his robes before forming a circle around him, a circle of reverence.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," he spoke with that quiet voice that demanded silence. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?" His cold eyes swept over them, inhaling deeply. "I smell guilt. There is a stench of guilt upon the air…I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact- such prompt appearances! And I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
Silence followed his question. No one was brave enough, or foolish enough to step forward and speak. The loop holding the sword snapped silently under her bindings and she attempted to bring the sword up with difficulty.
"And I answer myself," Voldemort continued, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment…And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proof of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"
Hope scoffed loudly, earning her a few head jerks from the followers who didn't seem to have noticed her before, but Voldemort didn't turn back to her.
"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance to another…perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"
The Death Eaters hissed and muttered, quick to shake their heads and disagree.
"It is a disappointment to me," Voldemort said, his voice ringing with danger. "I confess myself…disappointed…"
At this comment, one of the followers threw himself before Voldemort, begging and pleading: "Master! Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"
"Crucio!"
The Death Eater screamed in pain, pain that rocked his body and left him shaking once it had subsided. Hope looked away.
"Get up, Avery," Voldemort commanded in his soft voice. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"
Wormtail was still sniveling at the loss of his hand and the pain he was currently in.
"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends."
Hope snorted. He deserved that fear, every second of it.
"You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?" Voldemort said quietly still.
"Yes, Master!" Wormtail was quick to agree, even whimpering as he was. "Please…Master…please…"
"Yet you helped return me to my body," Voldemort's voice echoed in the silence that not even a gust of wind could disrupt. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"
He did little more than a small twitch of his wand, molten silver bending into existence and melding to Wormtail's wrist to form a new hand.
No longer in pain, Wormtail gazed upon his new hand in awe, and Hope couldn't help but scowl fiercely. "My Lord, Master…it is beautiful," he breathed, "thank you…thank you…"
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail." It sounded, to Hope, more like a threat than anything else.
"No, my Lord…never, my Lord," Wormtail promised, backing away to take his place in one of the empty spaces left in the circle, leaving Hope with a sinking feeling that there were more still to come.
"Lucius, my slippery friend."
Hope started slightly. Malfoy's father? Well, that figured.
"I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face," Voldemort said to the hooded man. "You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius...Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay...but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"
"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy's voice did not tremble in fear like the others' had, "I was constantly on the alert. Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me—"
Voldemort interrupted him swiftly. "And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer? Yes, I know all about that Lucius…You have disappointed me…I expect more faithful service in the future."
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius agreed, bowing deeply, "of course…You are merciful, thank you…"
"The Lestranges should stand here," he said to the group, referencing a space for three beside Lucius. Hope hissed under her breath. The Lestranges got what they deserved, locked up in Azkaban for what they'd done to the Longbottoms. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me...When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The Dementors will join us...they are our natural allies...we will recall the banished giants...I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear..."
He continued on. "Macnair...destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide..."
Macnair was the one who had been sent to decapitate Buckbeak, Hope remembered, and her hatred grew.
"And here we have Crabbe…you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?" He sounded vaguely like a reproachful father to his dim-witted sons.
"Yes, Master…"
"We will, Master…"
"The same goes for you, Nott," he said passing another shadow which tried to profess him as most faithful before pulling up short once he was cut off by Voldemort himself.
"And here we have six missing Death Eaters," he passed, stopping before a prominent space, much more prominent than the Lestranges. "Three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return...he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever...he will be killed, of course...and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already re-entered my service. He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight..."
"What're you looking at?" Hope barked as several pairs of eyes flashed towards her.
"Yes," Voldemort called out. "Hope Potter has kindly joined us for my re-birthing party. One might go so far as to call her my guest of honor."
Hope muttered something unsavory under her breath as another Death Eater spoke, Lucius. "Master, we crave to know...we beg you to tell us...how you have achieved this...this miracle...how you managed to return to us..."
Her blade was slowly but surely breaking through the bindings.
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius…And it begins-and ends-with my young friend here." Hope scowled fiercely at Voldemort, their eyes meeting again as he approached her. "You know, of course, that they have called this girl my downfall? You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill her…and she robbed me of so much more than just my body…shall I punish her for it?"
Hope barely had time to frown, not really hearing the answering jeers. "Crucio!"
It was excruciating and beyond description. White hot pain spread through her body and anyone else would've been screaming, but not Hope.
Hope didn't scream, not for anyone. It was an old rule she'd made up, but it had always felt like screaming was a dangerous thing to do, something indescribably known, like an old-age superstition.
Her teeth ground together and she contorted against the ropes, twisting against them until he let up the spell to the laughter of the Death Eaters.
But Hope wasn't listening to them, Hope was doing some very fast thinking.
Because Hope knew what it looked like to be out-manned and out-matched, that was the way it had been her whole life. When you were an orphaned kid in an abusive situation there was no such thing as a cowardly retreat.
Cedric's body wasn't far from her, but the problem was the Cup was further away and Hope was nearly at her limit. Much more magic without any blood replenisher and she was going to head towards another seizure.
But desperate times called for desperate measures.
"How did that feel, Hope?" Voldemort asked softly and Hope spat a glob of blood onto his cheek. "Clearly you take after your m—"
Hope moved quick, ripping her way out of the bindings and then bringing the blade in a sharp thrust forward, sinking through flesh.
The scream he released was of surprise and pain and Hope took vindictive pleasure at causing it, using her shoulder to push him back and racing forward to skid and clutch Cedric's still-warm arm.
"STOP HER!"
"Accio!" The Cup soared through the air and she clutched it tight, ripping through space as fast as she had before to crash to the ground for a second time.
The first thing Hope heard was screams as she reappeared at Hogwarts, still clutching Cedric's lifeless body, her tears still falling and mingling with the sweat and grime and blood.
She thought she heard Cho's scream from the crowd and it just wasn't fair. Cedric had deserved better and longer and…more. He'd always been kind and patient, and he listened, even when he was hurt about how she could barely look him in the eye over the past year.
Hope shook and the tears fell anew, blurring her vision, and someone tried to pull her from the body but she clung desperately to him. "No! No! Cedric—!"
"Hope! What happened?" Dumbledore's voice could hardly be heard over the eruptions of horror from the stands.
"Cedric," Hope gasped, "Cedric—" She couldn't get anything else out, her tears coming now thick and heavy.
"What's going on? What's happened?" Hope could hardly focus on Fudge as his voice appeared out of thin air, her sorrowful eyes now a pale blue and fastened on Dumbledore's. "My God- Diggory! Dumbledore- he's dead!"
The words were echoed, but Hope couldn't listen to that either.
"Hope, let go of him." She was sure it was Fudge trying to pry her from Cedric's body, but she gripped him tighter still.
"Hope," Dumbledore's gentle voice pierced the hazy fog that had infested her brain. "You can't help him now. It's over. Let go."
"You don't understand—!" Hope raised her head to glare furiously into Dumbledore's calm eyes. He didn't understand, no one did. No one knew what it was like, to know someone was going to die and then to be there when it happened…only Hope did and Hope was alone.
"I do understand," he promised, but he had no idea, not really, "you did a good thing…just let go now…"
Hope's grip on Cedric's shirt loosened and she hardly felt it when Dumbledore pulled her off of the ground to stand on her own two feet, something that made her nearly crumple again. Her body was aching from the Cruciatus Curse, her head was pounding and stinging, and her hip still burned from where the Chimaera had thrashed her.
"What's happened?"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Diggory's dead!"
These yells only made Hope feel worse and all she wanted was someone she knew, someone who would just hold her; Diane, Quinn, Dean, George, anyone. She wanted to pass out, she wanted to run away, far away.
She wanted to rip out her magic, regardless of it killing her.
All the voices were ringing in her ears and it took a little work to actually make things out again.
"I'll take Hope, Albus, I'll take her—"
"No, I would prefer—" Dumbledore started to say before his attention was diverted.
"Dumbledore, Amos Diggory's running...he's coming over...Don't you think you should tell him– before he sees—?"
"Hope, stay here—" Dumbledore said and Hope was too out of it to comply when she was pulled away.
"It's all right, girl, I've got you...come on...hospital wing..."
"Hospital wing?" Hope mumbled, stumbling as she moved. Lying down wasn't going to make her feel any better; it was probably going to make her puke everything back up.
"You need to lie down...Come on now..."
The only sound Hope heard was the constant thunk of wood on stone from Moody's foot. Hope was lulled into a doze despite her pain, jerking abruptly from it when he finally spoke.
"What happened, Hope?" he asked.
"Cup didn't take us back," she mumbled, her words hardly discernible. "Took us to a graveyard…Vo-oldemort…" Her voice cracked on his name.
"The Dark Lord was there?" Moody asked suddenly. "What happened then?"
Why was he asking Hope all of these questions? She just wanted to forget that the night even happened.
"Cedric," she rasped his name with difficulty, "…they-they killed—" Her eyes were welling with tears again.
"And then?"
Hope was numb with pain and grief and everything in between. "Potion…brought his body back…"
"The Dark Lord got his body back? He's returned?" Hope must have imagined the note of relief in his voice.
"Death Eaters…Voldemort, he—"
"Did you duel with the Dark Lord?"
Hope startled at that, growing a bit clearer. "What?"
He tugged her into his office and Hope shook her head to clear it more. "In here, Hope…in here, and sit down…You'll be alright now…drink this…"
Hope choked on the potion as she fell into the chair and she knew the familiar taste of Pepperup Potion.
"You'll feel better," Moody promised, "...come on, now, Hope, I need to know exactly what happened..."
Hope didn't want to speak, she was tired and she didn't know where her wand was or where her sword had gone.
"Is Voldemort's back, Hope?" he pressed. "Is he back? How did he do it?"
Hope rubbed her head, trying to gather her thoughts. Something felt off. "I don't know, some kind of potion…he took my blood." The inside of her arm was still shining crimson.
Moody hissed softly, examining her arm for a moment. "And the Death Eaters?" he insisted. "They returned?"
Hope could do little more than nod.
"How did he treat them? Did he forgive them?"
His hands were tight on Hope's shoulder and she could see his face shifting. Like a Polyjuice Potion had run out. And he was very interested in Voldemort forgiving the Death Eaters…
Hope's eyes shifted past him to the desk where she saw a familiar bit of parchment on his desk…he'd gotten over to them very fast when Mr. Crouch had disappeared…almost like he'd already been nearby. And he would've known that he was there if he'd had the map.
She looked back to him. "Wouldn't it be a pity to go through all that and to die from a stab wound?" she asked, baring her teeth. "Mortality bites."
Fury burned across his face and Hope didn't really feel it when he slapped her, too busy raising her legs up to kick him back and shout "Shield!"
An opaque dome bloomed around Hope to protect her from the curse that sped towards her, cracking its surface. Normally it would've been little more than a ripple, but Hope had been pushed to the max and it was that point that she coughed up blood that spattered across her knees before her eyes rolled back and she fainted.
She didn't so much as shift when the door was blasted open, throwing Moody back, remaining limp as several professors rushed forward to restrain the man. Professor McGonagall reached Hope's side in an instant, checking her over, pale at how her head lolled to the side. "Hope! Rennervate!"
Hope stirred, her eyes opening, and she jerked back to push herself farther away, not liking someone in her space.
"It's all right," Professor McGonagall said swiftly, "it's just me."
Hope relaxed slightly, but not very much, glancing around to see Dumbledore and Snape with their wands on the now unconscious Moody.
"Not for nothing," Hope said roughly, "but this whole fucking day has earned me the right to get blackout drunk."
Hope was no stranger to attacks and even less to murders; someone trying to kill her was unfortunately very normal. She was surprised it was Moody, but not surprised it had happened. She was tired and numb and in pain and she wanted to sleep.
Or die.
But that was probably the depression talking.
Professor McGonagall looked almost like she was going to hug Hope and Hope couldn't help but stiffen immediately at the thought. Instead, she just helped Hope out of her chair, steadying her when she needed it
"Come along," she said gently, "hospital wing…"
"No." It took Hope a moment to realize that Dumbledore had spoken. His voice almost unrecognizable: harsh and cold and sharp enough to cut through stone.
"Albus," Professor McGonagall said in a voice of reproach, "she ought to –look at her!– she's been through enough tonight—"
"She will stay, Minerva," Dumbledore countered tersely, "because she needs to understand. Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. She needs to know who has put her through the ordeal she has suffered tonight, and why."
Hope thought she understood pretty well. Voldemort had been trying to kill her for years and that hadn't changed much. There was no confusion, there was no 'why?'. Hope was too used to misery and tragedy to question why things happened to her; she'd already accepted that she'd pulled the short stick of her lot in life.
"You need better taste in friends, Headmaster," Hope said shortly and Professor McGonagall's grip on her grew tight.
"This is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said softly, his wand still aimed at the man in question. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew -and I followed." He leaned over the body to remove that little hip flask that Moody always seemed to be drinking out of. Hope had toasted him once before drinking out of her own, downing her blood replenisher while he nodded approvingly. "Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here."
Hope swallowed thickly. Sirius! He must've come up to the castle to watch her in the third task…she hadn't even noticed him. They'd been arguing more than anything else and Hope had been so frustrated with him -for risking his life coming back, for not liking George for petty reasons-, but all Hope wanted to do was hug him tight and never let go. She hardly felt Professor McGonagall's arm squeeze as she left her alone with Dumbledore and the Not-Moody. Hope jumped at the sound a trunk lid being thrown open and glanced to the trunk with seven locks, into which Dumbledore was gazing. Hope eased closer and looked down into it, staring at what lay within, deep, deep down.
It was Moody, the real Moody, looking a little worse for wear…but was he alive?
Dumbledore climbed inside, dropping to the floor beside the man.
"Stunned," he said, and Hope breathed a little easier. "Controlled by the Imperius Curse- very weak. Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Hope, throw down the imposter's cloak -he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."
Hope was nervous about approaching the Not-Moody, but she finally threw it down and moments later Dumbledore had returned to stand beside her, upending the hip flask he had taken from Not-Moody over the desk. Hope recognized the thick, mud-like appearance of Polyjuice Potion in an instant from when she, Ron, and Hermione had brewed it in second year.
"Polyjuice Potion, Hope," Dumbledore told her and she didn't feel the need to admit that she and her friends had once brewed it illegally. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair...The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven?" Hope couldn't from where she was, but she nodded. "But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done...on the hour...every hour...We shall see."
It seemed as though the time waiting for Fake-Moody to return to his normal visage was long, but it could have hardly been more than a few minutes before the scars on Fake-Moody's face faded, the marred flesh becoming smooth. The nose became smaller and whole. The grey hair shot back towards his skull, becoming short and straw-colored. The wooden leg fell away as a real one grew into place, and the magical eye was forced from its socket as a real one returned.
Hope stared at the face of Mr. Crouch's supposedly deceased son, the very face that she had worn back in October to incite Mr. Crouch. Hope didn't even turn at the sound of Snape and Professor McGonagall returning with Winky in tow, but she did hear Snape's startled surprise.
"Crouch!" Snape was aghast. "Barty Crouch!"
"Good heavens!" Professor McGonagall cried, struck at the sight of him. But Winky shrieked in alarm once she saw her unconscious former charge.
"Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?" She threw herself on top of him as if to shield him from anything further happening to him. "You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"
"He is simply Stunned, Winky," Dumbledore corrected politely. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"
Snape stepped forward with a small bottle that could have been holding water, but Hope found that unlikely. She could just make out the name: Veritaserum. It was the potion he'd threatened her with a few months ago, not knowing it was George actually stealing from him. It was also high on George's list of potions George was determined to brew before he died.
Barty Crouch Jr.'s mouth was pried open and three drops of the potion were dropped into the gaping mouth before Dumbledore revived him. His eyes flickered open, but instead of focusing on Dumbledore, who was directly before him, his eyes went to Hope's and he leaned forward as if intent on getting to her again, but three wands aimed at him, preventing him from doing so and Professor McGonagall stepped quickly between her student and the Death Eater.
"Can you hear me?"
Barty Crouch's eyes drifted back towards Dumbledore. "Yes."
"I would like you to tell us how you came to be here," Dumbledore said clearly. "How did you escape from Azkaban?"
The Veritaserum was apparently fast acting and withdrew the emotion from the voice at the same time. It was a bit disconcerting to Hope. "My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance."
"Say no more, Master Barty," Winky begged, "say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!"
But Barty did not cede to her warning. Besides, it was a bit too late now; Mr. Crouch was long dead.
"The Dementors are blind," he continued flatly. "They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors. My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me."
"And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?" Dumbledore asked him.
"Staged my mother's death," he replied. "A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master ...of returning to his service."
"How did your father subdue you?" Dumbledore queried.
"The Imperius Curse."
Hope ground her teeth together. The man who had wrongly imprisoned Sirius, who had freed his guilty son, had actually used one of the Unforgivables…and he'd gone unpunished for it.
It was easy to hate Mr. Crouch.
"I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior."
Winky's hands were pressed firmly into her eyes, but even that could not muffle her voice or her sobs. "Master Barty, Master Barty…You isn't ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble..."
"Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?" Dumbledore asked. "Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?"
"Yes," Barty murmured, blinking his eyes lazily as if he was tired. "A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father s signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently."
"Why is she coming to nose into my master's private business?" Winky cried, rocking forward and backward like Dobby once had. "Why isn't she leaving us be?"
"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup."
In the same dullness as before, Barty continued, "Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end…It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know…
"But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a girl's pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden."
Hope's face paled as the monologue grew more and more detailed as she listened to how he had used her wand to create the Dark Mark, to cause fear within those Death Eaters that had abandoned his master as well as those who feared him. His sickly smile when he spoke of Voldemort had found him sent another shiver down her spine, how he had given him a job, an honorable job, to be placed at Hogwarts, to assist Hope on her way through the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament. He explained how he and Wormtail had attacked Moody and locked him in the trunk, taking him with him as he journeyed to Hogwarts. Hope's map had almost given everything away; so, he'd stolen it from her. Luckily, he'd shared his father's name.
She listened as he talked about killing his father, several people reacted to that and Hope was focusing too hard to notice Dumbledore watching her, taking in her lack of reaction.
"My master's plan worked," he said, a wild light brightening his eyes. "He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."
Hope's mouth thinned into a hard line. And this was one of the people that had tortured Neville's parents into insanity.
"Hope?"
She blinked, having drifted off slightly, jerking back when he touched her shoulder. Hope's eyes were black as coal, hard and cold and looking right through him. Dumbledore felt uncommonly like he was in the presence of Tom Riddle as a boy, collecting likeminded individuals to his cause. Not for the first time he wondered…wondered if he'd made a huge mistake.
He led her away, all the way up to his office, where Hope embraced Sirius immediately, and he responded so eagerly that he lifted her feet off the floor. He leaned back to grasp her face, to see the red eyes and the tears on her cheeks, before hugging her anew.
Dumbledore couldn't hear what Sirius said to Hope and it felt very much like he was intruding on a private moment.
"Shh…shh, I've got you," Sirius breathed, "I'm here. It's all right." But Hope could feel him shaking in fear for what had happened to her.
"What happened?" Sirius directed his question more to Dumbledore, who explained at a length what Barty Crouch had told them, but all Hope wanted to do was sleep, get away from all this.
She wanted Diane and Quinn and Dean, she wanted George, she wanted Ron and Hermione…and she wanted Nath and Mirror Lady.
"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze. Hope," said Dumbledore, seeking to draw her attention away from where she was staring hollowly at Salazar Slytherin's portrait. He was awake while the portraits of the other founders slept, and he said nothing, just watched her impassively.
Hope grasped Sirius' hand tightly and he understood her meaning entirely.
"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" Sirius insisted, squeezing back, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand. "Let her have a sleep. Let her rest."
"If I thought I could help you," Dumbledore said much softly than before, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."
Hope's eyes grew sharp and the look she gave him was full of so much contempt. "Putting me into an enchanted sleep? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Hope—" Sirius was startled but she shot a look his way that was all James and Sirius quieted immediately.
"I barely sleep normally, but at least I know that it was out of the kindness of his heart that George offered to brew me a dreamless sleep draught," Hope sneered. "But you love cages so much, don't you, Headmaster? You'd be willing to trap me in my own mind to ease your own."
Dumbledore sighed heavily and Sirius looked from Hope to Dumbledore, sensing an animosity that he couldn't place the origin of. "Hope—"
"Miss Potter," Hope corrected icily, "we are not that friendly." She raised her head, the move highlighting the scar across her throat. "You don't know anything about me, you just think you do. Just like you think you know what's best for me. You didn't when you forced me to live with the Dursleys, and you still don't, now."
Dumbledore opened his mouth but Hope held up a hand.
"I've had two people die in front of me this year, one last year, not counting all the times I've been killed myself," she snapped. "What I've earned is a right to peace and quiet and not being forced to relive traumatic experiences…besides, you were the one that said 'the truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution'?"
Hope was more furious than she had been in a very long time. It had brimming underneath the skin for the entire year, held at bay only by the distraction of the tournament and her friends.
"So here is some truth for you: I don't have to do anything for you, I don't have to tell you anything. You are my headmaster, you have no power to force me to do anything, least of all tell me where to live." Hope stood, her body aching and burning. "Make your assumptions, Headmaster, but I'm not telling you anything."
And then she stormed out before he could reel her back in, or indeed lock the door.
Sirius eyed Dumbledore coolly. "Caged?"
Hope Potter did have a tendency to put kinks in his plans.
Hope's hip was really starting to bother her by the time she made it to the hospital wing, blinking in surprise at the loud arguing. Quinn and Diane were fired up and Dean was scowling fiercely and all the Weasleys and Hermione clustered about, just as demanding.
As if sensing her, Dean turned suddenly to see her standing there. She wondered what he saw; a ragged and wounded girl with scars and blood and grime and tears, hair falling out of her braid.
(Later, Dean said he just saw his sister with all her jagged edges)
He moved first, reaching her before anyone else noticed and Hope clutched at him, choking a sob into his shoulder, clinging to him until he was practically holding her up. She didn't hear much after the rest converged on her, all wanting to know that she was okay but it was far too much stimulation and everything just faded into white noise.
Before Hope had time to complain, the scratch from the Chimaera was gone, as though it had never been there in the first place and the cut on her arm was a thin white scar. Quinn had darted away to places unknown and Diane was murmuring softly to Hope. Ron and Hermione were at a loss, Fred was white-faced, George was so very tired, and Ginny looked like she was about to faint.
A black dog had slunk into the room, unseen by most.
Hope had said nothing since entering the hospital wing but she jumped wildly and gave a small yelp when the doors to the hospital wing were thrown open by the minister, who was closely followed by an irate Professor McGonagall, turning immediately on Madam Pomfrey, who appeared just as startled.
"Where's Dumbledore?"
"He's not here," she snapped out angrily. "This is a hospital wing. Minister, I think you'd better—"
He didn't have to wait very long, though, because Dumbledore had swept into the room. "What has happened? Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you- I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch—"
"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she cried in an anger Hope had not yet seen on her Head of House. "The Minister has seen to that!"
Snape spoke up next, having followed the pair that seemed intent on waging a war. "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a Dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch—"
"I told him you would not agree, Albus!" Professor McGonagall was quite red in the face now, her eyes sparking in her rage. "I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot inside the castle, but—"
Hope took George's hand and held it painfully tight.
"My dear woman! As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous—" He barked out.
"The moment that-that thing entered the room," she shrieked over him, "it swooped down on Crouch and-and—"
Hope's stomach churned. Barty Crouch Jr. soulless…hard to testify without a soul. That made her frown; had that been the plan all along?
"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge cried "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"
"But now he cannot give testimony, Cornelius. He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people," Dumbledore said, calmer than Hope had expected.
"Why he killed them?" Fudge's eyes popped, bulging in the sockets. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"
"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those peoples' deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."
Hope had given no testimony herself, but it wasn't hard to assume based on everything that happened. Several people looked to Hope and Hope neither confirmed nor denied anything. What Hope really wanted was a drink.
And maybe one of Nath's cigarettes.
Fudge sputtered, his tongue not seeming to function properly. "You-Know-Who...returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore..."
"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort -learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins- went to free him from his father and used him to capture Hope. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return. When Hope touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, she was transported straight to Voldemort. She witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth."
Hope met his eyes. He was trying to force her into a corner. Hope hated that and he couldn't make her talk. She had admitted it to Crouch, but Dumbledore hadn't been there to witness it…unless he knew a spell to read minds.
"You are -er- prepared to take Hope's word on this, are you, Dumbledore? You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a girl who...well..."
"You know, Hope," Dean said rather loudly, "I think Quinn might be right about wizards."
Diane's mouth twitched and Hope looked to him like they weren't at the center of attention. "Which part?" she asked.
"They really can't tell the difference between truth and gossip."
Dean was ordinarily quite mild mannered, but the look he gave was brutal and cold and the room felt like it had dropped a few degrees. Diane knew that look, very well.
"Listen here, boy—"
"My name is Dean Thomas," Dean said sharply, crossing his arms, "and you're accusing my sister of lying, which she doesn't really need to do…because no one bothers to believe her when she tells the truth in the first place. You're just one person in a long line of people that believe what they've heard rather than what's actually true."
Fudge looked between Hope and Dean, comparing the olive to the dark skin. Neither were impressed by that.
"You do know that people can be siblings without being related?" Diane asked archly before looking to her kids. "I don't know why I'm sending you to get education here if they don't teach you the basics."
Ginny hid her giggles.
"Where's my sword?" Hope asked loudly.
As if summoned, it materialized and dropped straight down to slide into stone before the minister -who let out an ungodly shriek and leapt back- vibrating back and forth.
Fudge reached out to touch it but the hilt burned red hot and he waved his hand off, trying to rid him of the stinging.
Hope stood silently and strode forward to grasp the hilt easily and pull it out of the floor. "Minister, I am used to ridicule and abuse, I've endured worse than a few taunts and I don't particularly care what you think or who you believe. But I didn't use the Avada Kedavra on Cedric Diggory and you could've easily brought an Auror guard with you, but you didn't. This is a hospital wing. You are not injured, so I think you should leave. The door is behind you." Wet blood still glittered on the blade and she turned around without a look back to him.
She handed the blade over to Dean who took it, his hand covering hers as she leaned up to whisper something in his ear. He frowned, but he murmured an agreement, taking the sword with him as he left.
"I want my doctor," Hope said shortly to Madam Pomfrey, who was trying to get her to drink a potion without telling her what it was. "Dr. Eleanor Lipson. I'm sure Quinn's gone to get her and she's going to be pissed because I'm going to tell her that you just poured me a dreamless sleeping draught and are trying to get me to drink it, despite my aversion to it."
George full-on glowered at Madam Pomfrey. "She can't drink that! She has nightmares!"
Madam Pomfrey set down the goblet. "She needs rest! She's endured something emotionally and physically taxing, she needs—"
"She needs a full assessment, a psychological evaluation, several blood transfusions, and to be restarted to the anti-depressants she went off because she was too busy trying to stay alive in this grotesque entertainment of a tournament you people subjected her to," a loud voice snapped and everyone turned to see a short woman with bouncing curls in a white coat. "I'm Dr. Lipson, and I'm taking my patient with me. She'll be treated outside this farce of a school."
Dumbledore stepped forward. "Miss Lipson, I'm worry, but I must insist Miss Potter remain here where it is safe, no muggle hospital—"
"I'm not taking her to a hospital," Dr. Lipson snapped. "I'm taking her to the infirmary at the school for magicians that she attends during the summer, where our protections far surpass your own. Mari, can you walk?"
Hope nodded wordlessly.
"All right, then, come along."
In a few short minutes, Hope Potter was gone, leaving only silence in her wake.
George could be intimidating. Dean knew a lot of people didn't think so, but he was the boyfriend of his sister, it wasn't hard to find him intimidating.
"Is she coming back?"
"The last time I checked," Dean shrugged. "Mum said she had to get a lot of blood, it wiped her out for about a day…she promised Hope'd be back before the end of term."
Which was tomorrow.
Dean started to walk away, but George stopped him. "I knew she wasn't taking them."
He turned back and George ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "The, uh—"
"The anti-depressants," Dean clarified. "The daily pills."
"Yeah, those," George agreed, "I asked her about them, but she always brushed it off…said she had other things to worry about."
"Yeah, she says stuff like that," Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Don't get me wrong, I love her, but…she's really bad about taking care of her mental health."
George sighed heavily, pressing a hand to his face. "She likes—"
"—her secrets, yeah, I know." Dean shrugged helpfully. "Quinn says all healing takes time…she was friends with Cedric, but not close friends, besides, she'd been avoiding him for most of the year."
"She had?" George hadn't noticed that, but what he did notice was a very familiar figure in the distance, speaking with what looked like Fleur and her mother. Hope barely smiled but she nodded a few times, said something to Fleur that made her hug Hope. Then she was waving goodbye and heading upstairs and George had to leave Dean behind to follow after her quickly.
The stairs were still extended and the trapdoor into Morea's room still open when George made his way up.
Hope hadn't noticed him, shrugging off a coat, and George was surprised that she was wearing a black dress underneath, remembering how much she disliked dresses. She paused, pulling out the mobile she used to call Nath and her mother on occasion, pressing a button and holding it to her ear. "I know you're probably busy, but…" Her fingers paused over the bag of galleons that was her prize money for winning the tournament that Ron had brought up to the room some time ago. She raised her hand back up, clearing her throat. "I'm just calling to check on you…and let you know that I've decided to take an extra class over the summer. You're right, I can handle it…love you, Nath, call me whenever, I guess."
She shut it, dropping the phone onto the coat before kicking off her shoes. "I'm fine," she said loudly and George realized she must've heard he was there the whole time. "I'm just…emotionally exhausted."
George slid his arms around her waist and Hope sank her back into his chest. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head. "You're wearing a dress."
"Yeah," Hope muttered. "The Diggorys are an old family. I thought they'd appreciate it more if I showed up to the funeral wearing a dress."
"You went to his funeral?" George was surprised. "Dean said you were avoiding Cedric all year."
Hope frowned. "Morg needs to keep his thoughts to himself sometimes."
George coughed to hide a snort. "Morg?"
"Dean Morgan Thomas. Mum called him Morg or Mo-Mo when he was a baby…he absolutely hates it now." Hope pulled the clip out of her hair and George ran his fingers through the rough mane. "They gave me the money because Cedric's dead, didn't they?"
She sounded so tired.
"Fudge didn't want to…said you climbing the hedges was cheating," George admitted, "but Hermione didn't like that very much."
Hope leaned her head back, arching an eyebrow. "Hermione talked back to the Minister for Magic?"
"More like she pled your case, pointed out that there's nothing against not using magic in the tournament," George corrected. "She should look at being a lawyer after she graduates."
Hope hummed and George swayed them back and forth. "You know there's nothing you could've done, right? It wasn't your fault."
It had taken years for Hope to understand that and it had been naïve to think that she could change things for Cedric just because she knew him, just because she liked him.
"I think," she said slowly, "maybe sometimes life is random and unfair. You know, if it doesn't always ask our permission. It just is. And there isn't always some god trying to knock me down every year…it's just…life."
George kissed her cheek. "You've had a run of really bad luck, though, I'll admit that."
Hope smiled faintly, turning around in his arms to bury her face in his chest. "I love you," she said thickly.
"I know," George grinned, but he didn't really understand why that made her throw her head back and laugh for the first time since the third task. "What?"
"Don't worry about it…inside joke," Hope said before dropping her hand to the bag of gold. "I want you to take this, though."
"What? No, I couldn't do that," George insisted quickly, "that's yours—"
"Dearest, I have enough money, don't you think?" Hope asked tiredly. "Think of it as an investment, into your shop…you're brilliant, both of you are…the money will give you a place to start from, more than what you lost to Bagman."
George started, looking at her in surprise.
Hope smiled. "Dean overheard you guys talking."
"And of course, he told you immediately," George groaned.
"You know what they say about twins…share a womb and you never go back." Hope winked and George thought it was best not to point out that they might've been born on the same day, but they definitely hadn't shared a womb. "He was worried…he said he didn't want his sister's boyfriend getting into trouble, even if you treat him like a kid."
George pulled her close. "He is a kid."
"We're the same age and you just do it because it annoys him." Hope rolled her eyes, ducking up to kiss under his jaw. "Please take the money and use it to make something fun. I get the feeling we're all going to need laughs going forward."
George looked at her, at the iron beneath the exhaustion. "All right," he said before he realized what he was doing and Hope's smile was more grateful than anything. "Just because it's you."
And somehow, they both knew they were at the cusp of something terrifying and dangerous, but only time would tell just how much.
AN: Book four is officially done! A lot of fun stuff is coming up in book five and I'm really looking forward to it. This book took so long because I was fleshing out characters and relationships but its improved so much from the original! We're slowly getting into more and more Magicians stuff and I'm very excited!
There's a lot of stuff going on with Hope that will make sense in the long run when Selenar or Morrigan explain some shit :)
Please review!
