chapter four

The news of the war leaks into the castle and dims it. An attack in Holyhead, a young muggle-born wizard had his home burned to the ground. And though he lived, the weight of the news slows everything down. His name is whispered and passed through classrooms, common rooms and courtyards. People are getting scared. People are getting angry. Jo feels like she's walking through mud.

And though most take the tragedy with slews of rough curses or visceral horror, it's impossible not to notice the way a certain few are invigorated by it. Jo saw Evan Rosier whooping by the Great Lake, tossing rocks with a jovial pep and a careless laugh with the muggle-born's name laced in it that made Jo sick. Amycus Carrow, cruelty perfected in only his third year, hit a second year Hufflepuff girl, muggle-born of course, with a particularly nasty combination of curses, causing the hair to fall off her head and large, painful looking boils to grow in its place. Carrow got two months of detention. The Hufflepuff girl hasn't left the Hospital Wing.

And now, Jo has groupies.

It's primarily Gryffindors, though there's a stray flash of yellow or blue every now and then. All first years, all girls, who crowd around her, keeping their heads down and pressing their books to their chest and whispering and taking quick, small steps in unison.

Jo was packing up her books in the library, stomach loud and aching, when the first two approached her. Jo didn't know their names, and still doesn't. But they both had braided pigtails, one set blonde and the other brunette. As they walked towards her, swiftly and with their foreheads towards each other whispering rapidly, Jo slowed her movements, watching them with apprehension.

They froze before they reached her, when they realized that she noticed them. For a moment, they said nothing, just gave Jo blank, wide expressions. And then the blonde was nudging the other forward. "Erm, Josephine?" the brunette asked, like she was afraid of saying her name. "Are you on your way to the Great Hall?" she questioned, voice squeaky, shoulders shoved all the way up to her chin like she was trying to hide in them.

"I am," Jo answered them easily, suspicious and stern.

The brunette was looking back and forth between Jo and her friend like she was trying to remember a script and if Jo wasn't feeling so impatient, it would've been amusing. "We were wondering if, well, we could come with you, because, well, I don't know if you know but-"

"We don't want to walk alone!" the blonde burst from behind her friend, and then she covered her mouth like the words came out against her will, while her friend glared at her, horrified.

Jo stared at the two of them for a long time, wondering what they might have experienced in the first month of school already to make them want an older student to supervise their walks through the castle. So Jo just gave them a simple, "Alright then," and they were on her heels out of the library, all the way to the Great Hall, and then have not left her alone since.

She didn't really notice it, at first. It was just the same two girls who would catch Jo in the corridors between classes, in the library, after meals. They would, huddled together, look for her head in the crowds and then rush her, coming up from behind and walking so close to her they might as well have been hanging onto the back of her robes. Until their friends joined in.

It was gradual. It was just the two of them, then it was three, then five, then eight. Now, Jo has an entire class worth of first year girls following her everywhere she goes. They trail behind her to the Great Hall, the library, studying and eating when she does. They wait for her outside her classes to follow her to her next one, peeling off when they reach their own rooms. The whole time they stare up at her, stumbling over questions for her, questions that she never really answers: "Do you have a boyfriend?" "How many spells do you know?" "Can you apparate?" "Are you friends with Sirius Black?" "Have you ever dueled anyone before?" It's enough to drive anyone mad.

Dorcas and Alice, of course, love the newest developments in Jo's life.

She's slumped up on the softest couch in the common room, her legs sprawled out on Alice's lap and her head on Dorcas's shoulder. Her group isn't far, watching with amazement. "Why'd you reckon they asked me?" she grumbles, voice low and she can hear their giggles echoing in her ears.

"Have you seen yourself, Jo?" Alice responds with a chuckle in her throat. "Ever properly looked in the mirror?"

"Yes," Jo muses, snuggling deeper in Dorcas's shoulder, enjoying the way she smells like cinnamon sugar. "I'm quite good looking."

Dorcas doesn't look up from the book in her lap when she says. "Yeah, but you scowl."

"Everywhere you go," Alice confirms, and this makes Jo's frown deeper. She's never noticed her scowling. "It's a bit intimidating."

"If I were a first year Slytherin boy," Dorcas says, "I wouldn't mess with you either."

And before she can counter, two of her groupies are peeking over the back of the couch. "Josephine, are you ready to walk us to Astronomy?"

With a low groan, Jo rolls off the couch, feet slamming hard against the floor and says "Alright you lot, let's move out."


The wind lifts the curls from Jo's head and whips it in her brother's face. She doesn't want to be in the stands of the pitch, cold air blowing harshly from the lake, while green robes blur in the sky in front of her. The Slytherin team is having last minute tryouts, rumored that Carrow lost his newly-acquired spot on the team after what he did to the poor Hufflepuff girl. And James is more than eager to watch the spectacle, dragging Jo down with him. And they're not the only ones. Scattered groups of three and fours watch with rapt attention as hopefuls take whacks at the Bludger. "Not a decent Chaser in all of Ravenclaw," James comments, rubbing his bare hands together, fingers turning red, "though your mate Vance is a good Seeker. All around Hufflepuff's not terrible, but they don't stand a chance with you as Keeper and me as Chaser. I've been trying to come up with names for us as a sibling Quidditch duo, by the way. So far I'm coming up short. As for Slytherin, Black's easily the best Seeker, but he really carries the team. We're strongest on defense. I'll have to rework our entire offensive strategy."

His words hum in Jo's ears. She thinks that, even if she wanted to, there was no way she could keep up with her brother's thoughts and they way he spoke like his words were racing to get out of his mouth first. "Hmm. That's fascinating," she replies, leaning forward on her knees, mittened hands covering up her ears.

James continues to ramble on, and Jo can only think that whatever he's saying now is going to end up with her at practices earlier in the morning and later at night and it amazes her, the way her brother can talk nonstop like this, no interruptions or hesitation. He's going on about switching Fabian Prewett and Sirius in their Chaser formations when Jo realizes that it doesn't even matter that she's not listening. She could very well stand up and leave him there on his own, and he'd just keep on going. The image makes her smile.

But Jo freezes when his strategizing is cut off by a polite greeting of, "Oh, Reed. How are you?"

Ivan Reed is bold, Jo has to give him that.

He is standing in front of the both of them, a few rows down, his broad shoulders blocking the view and handsome smile having a dizzying effect on Jo. He is, in all fairness, much better looking than she had remembered. Jo gives him a double take, appreciating the dimples deep in his cheeks and the dirty blond curls that dangle in front of his forehead. And Merlin, his shoulders.

"'M alright thanks," he answers James, politely and with a slight nod, before turning over to Jo. "Hello, Josephine."

The way he looks down at her makes her wish her brother wasn't sitting beside her, staring. Jo rubs her thumbs together. "Erm, hi Ivan."

"See I'm not the only one who came to check out the competition," he remarks, with a slight look back where the potential Slytherin Beaters were vying for the title. Jo has no intention of telling him that she is wholly disinterested in the affair. "Heard you made Keeper." Jo gives him a slight nod. "That's wicked. I'm sure you'll give us a run for our money this year, yeah?"

"That is the plan," Jo replies easily, nonchalance perfected and topped off with an easy shrug.

Ivan has his hands deep in his pockets and he has to raise his voice so it carries over the wind, so everyone hears him say, "Well, likely we won't be playing each other until after the holiday. So perhaps in the meantime we could go to Hogsmeade together, grab a butterbeer before we become rivals?"

Now Jo really wishes James wasn't here. She pretends not to see her brother's absolutely scandalized expression, mouth gaping and nose scrunched. It lights her cheeks pink with annoyance. "Yeah, sure."

"Really? Wicked. Can't wait, really." Ivan grins brightly at Jo, cheeks even redder than hers. He takes a few steps back and waves a pocketed hand to James. "See you later, Potter."

At least James has the decency to wait until Ivan is halfway back to his group of Hufflepuff friends before he turns to Jo and says, "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Jo questions, head titled and playing dumb.

"Did he just ask you out?" James clarifies, apparently too shocked to pick up on the sarcasm in her tone of voice.

"That's what it sounded like to me."

James is still gaping, hands out open in front of him like he's waiting for someone to drop an explanation in his lap. "In front of me!" he exclaims.

"What, was he meant to pull me off to the side?" Jo snaps. "Do a few tests to make sure you're out of hearing range?"

"I mean, if you're going to ask a girl out, don't do it in front of her brother!" he continues rambling, looking positively flabbergasted.

"Why?"

This makes him snap his head around to her, and now he's waving his hands about wildly, apparently so traumatized at the notion of his little sister being asked out he's lost all bodily function. "Don't be dense, Josie! That's not something I need to see or be aware of or around, ever!" he shouts, and Jo notes that a few people littered about have tossed the pair of them amused, inquisitive glances.

Jo rolls her eyes at him. "Oh, suck it up, would you? I've had to listen to you declare your undying love for that daft cow Evans so many times I-."

"Oi! Watch it," James scolds, entire demeanor and tone shifting. He's looking at Jo with a thin pressed mouth and stern eyes, a look he usually reserves for Sirius. "Don't talk about her that way-I'm serious! You've been so rude to her lately."

"Because she thinks we're friends," Jo complains.

"Why can't you be friends?"

"Because I don't like her."

James shrugs. "What's not to like?"

"Would you like my list verbally or on paper?" Jo drawls, a challenge written in her raised eyebrows.

For a moment, James slumps, like he's deflated, before he says to her. "You should really give her another chance, Jo. She's important to me."

This is something Jo knows, and always has. Lily Evans is, undoubtedly, very dear to James. She sees that in the way he speaks of her, with a certain softness in his eyes, how he can't help but smile whenever he thinks of her. She sees it in all the trouble he's gotten himself into for Lily, how he's never taken the jokes too far with her, how he always keeps his distance when she needs it. Yes, it's obvious that Lily Evans is more than just important to her brother. And there's a part of Jo that knows that, if things work out in his favor, she might have to let go of the bubbling hatred she's been harboring. For her brother's sake.

But, now, Jo's just not ready or willing to. "She's gonna have to do a lot more to prove herself than not calling you a slimy git for five seconds."

Now James slips into the same crooked grin that she wears. "But I am a slimy git."

"You're a git. Not a slimy one," Jo counters. And she looks out to the pitch, where she thinks she can see Regulus Black leading the prospects through flying drills. Jo sits on her words for a moment, holding them, tasting them, chin on her hand, before she says. "You wouldn't let me go out with a boy who treated me like Evans did you."

James doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't say anything for a while, not until long after the tryouts are over, and fifth-year Nicholas Narramore has been crowned the newest Slytherin Beater.


Juniper the white cat is technically Jo's pet. She was a Christmas present many years ago, and Jo named her, and she finds herself at the Potter residents every holiday, chasing garden gnomes and terrorizing the field mice. Still, Juniper has always been more of a collective Gryffindor pet. She wanders the castle as she pleases, kills whatever pests she can find, and only burrows into Jo's bed again when she feels like it. And it's normal for Jo not to see her for a few days at a time, but after a long night of giggling and gossiping and secret swapping with her dorm mates, Jo realizes that she hasn't seen Juniper since the last full moon, and that makes her sweat cold.

The corridors are dusty, dim, and cold, despite the plethora of warming charms cast on the castle, and Jo finds herself mumbling a few for herself. She wears one of Remus's old sweaters that fall close to her knees and fuzzy socks that still leave her toes freezing. Her steps are slow and careful as she careens her head around corners and nooks and small, tight places she knows the little cat would love to hide. Still, she moves hesitantly, wand held low at her side, ready to cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself if she hears Flitch coming her way.

It's not the caretaker that catches her, though.

"Are you looking for a detention?"

Jo whirls around at the voice, one that she recognizes by now. Regulus is striding towards her, still cloaked in his robes, despite the early hour of the morning. She's not sure who should feel more foolish, him or her. "My cat, actually," Jo corrected, hand tight around her wand while she eyes him. "What are you doing down here?"

Regulus gives her the exact answer she was expecting. "I'm a Prefect."

"That was your excuse last time," she points out.

"Then it's my excuse this time too," Regulus answers easily, seemingly as unbothered as being caught in a lie as she is. "Are you really looking for your cat, or is that just your excuse?"

"Yeah," Jo nods. "She's a little white one, likes to wander off on her own. Have you seen one during your greatly extended rounds?"

"Can't say I have. Here, I'll help you look."

This makes Jo frown, and she thinks of the apparently infamous scowl she has, and how the boy in front of her seems to be completely unaffected by it. "Why?" she demands.

"You helped me," Regulus tells her, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Suppose it's only fair that I help you now."

Jo doesn't want his help. She shouldn't want anything to do with him. But she studies his firm set mouth and unblinking eyes and she's tired, and wants to find her cat. So she says, "Erm, alright then. Thanks."

For a while, nothing is said between them. There is nothing but the sounds of Regulus's shoes echoing against the floors. The lights are dim, and Jo thinks that bright, white Juniper should be easy to spot among dark shadows. Slowly, they work through the second floor of the castle, peering and searching and not saying a word to each other

But still, Jo can't ignore that he's there. She does her best not to look, not to stare, like she would like to. But she's aware of him, like before. Aware of where he is, how close he is to here, what he's doing, his movements. Jo clenches her jaw while he walks besides her.

"Now you're not looking at me at all," he notes, correctly, while Jo is opening and closing any broom cupboard she can find.

His words make her stop, and she looks at him with this sort of bewilderment twisted in her features. Jo really has no idea what he's expecting of her. "What?"

"You stare at me all the time," he explains slowly, movement also paused while he turns to face her. Jo watches his face for any sort of flicker, any hint to his intentions. But there's nothing. He's too composed, too careful. "Now you're avoiding looking at me."

"I don't stare at you all the time," Jo lies again.

"You do."

"I really don't."

"You were staring at me in the library," he informs her.

"Actually, that was you looking at me," Jo insists, crossing her arms over her chest.

Regulus opens his mouth, but closes it again. "So it was. What's her name?"

"What?" Jo repeats again, now feeling a bit dumb.

"Your cat. What's her name?"

"Oh." Her arms fall. She starts walking again. "Juniper."

Regulus is quick to follow her, matching her pace as they continue their search again. "Juniper?"

"I like the smell."

"I prefer sage."

"Noted."

He's only silent for a moment more before he asks, "Do you hate me?"

Jo is frozen again, contemplating. She figured she should, based off their last names alone. But that doesn't feel like a good enough reason. "I don't know you."

"You hate the people around me. And my family," he points out to her. "You don't know them."

Jo thinks of the Hufflepuff girl with boils on her head and of Dorcas crying in her arms after getting a particularly cruel hex and she thinks of the scars on Sirius's body that won't ever go away. Jo is tense. "I don't need to know them. I know what they do."

"Do you hate what I do, then?" he pesters, tone remarkably even.

"I don't know what you do, either," she answers with a shrug, and then turns to him with a raised brow and asks, "Do you?"

Regulus frowns. "Do I what?"

"Know what it is you're doing."

And her question seems to disarm him, because he's silent, mouth twitching and Jo thinks that he's about to erupt into tears once more. Regulus's face is, at once, contorted and fighting for control. She almost says something else, just to close up the silence, but there is a loud, high pitched meow that makes the both of them jump. Juniper is stalking towards the both of them, purring loudly with a big, red stain around her mouth. "Looks like she's found the rats," Regulus comments, swallowing whatever it was that was working it's way up his throat.