What I thought had been a private moment of gloating and mocking between Bellatrix and me somehow ended up as the headline of Frank's Monday edition zine.

"WRONSKI WARRIOR: 'WELCOME TO THE BIG LEAGUES'" seemed to glare out at me from every direction in the Great Hall that morning.

I didn't even bother reading it this time, as Jen had been quick to sum up that I should be ashamed for stooping so low as to taunt my arch nemesis when I so clearly needed to tone down my ego a few notches.

"She's right about you not having a team, Lily. That hasn't changed."

We were in the Great Hall, breakfasting on scones and scrambled egg. Jen was busy fixing herself a cup of tea and so missed the fact that I'd rolled my eyes at her.

Sirius and Marlene couldn't be on my team anymore as they were already on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Article Whatever, Section Kiss-My-Sorry-Arse, Subsection STUPID prohibited them from participating in both a club league and an intramural sport.

And even though Mary had gracefully given up her spot so that Hufflepuff Cara Wood could officially make my team inter-mixed, she also happened to be the Hufflepuff Quidditch team's keeper. I was now Lily Evans, Wronski Warrior, Hippogriff Team of One.

"You'll need to hold another try-out and recruit from there," she went on, apparently unaware that I was quickly losing interest in her condescending tones.

"Why can't you just join me in the relay?" I whined.

She finally looked at me, shock on her face. "Lily, I couldn't! I haven't the first idea of how to be an athlete."

"And you think I do?" I snorted. "Fancy that."

"You're the Winged Wronski Warrior, Lily," she said, and a bout of "Hippogriff, hip hip!" resounded around our table in a wave of encouraging, if boorish, cheers.

Jen shot a nearby group of fifth-years a haughty glare before turning back to me. "You see what I mean? You've a fan club now, and it's only got to do with this Hippogriff nonsense."

I tried to indulge in some woe-is-me act, but I honestly couldn't commit to it. Instead, I smiled widely at the thought of having a fan club. I was Lily Evans, Head Girl and Winged Wronski Warrior, Bringer of Light, Righter of Wrongs, and Harbinger of Good—

Jen scoffed. "And it's really inflating your ego, Lily. Honestly, you and Potter are more alike each day."

I gasped, affronted. "Take that back!"

Jen merely tapped a nearby copy of The Hogwarts Post in response, the headline practically shouting at me in angry caps: 'WELCOME TO THE BIG LEAGUES.'

I narrowed my eyes at her. "We all know Frank can get a little sensational," I said.

"You would have never gloated before all of this, you know. You can't say this hasn't changed you."

I sighed, and changed the subject. "So if you won't be on my team, I suppose I can ask Remus and Peter."

"It's also an inter-House league," Jen said. "You'll need students from other houses if you want to compete."

"Oh, bother." I rubbed my face in irritation. "The only friends I ever made outside of Gryffindor no longer speak to me. And are both, incidentally, on my enemy's team."

"Severus and Dorcas"—she said the latter's name with some difficulty at remaining impartial—"are simply people with different—priorities, but you shouldn't hold it against their houses, Lily."

"I never said I was," I argued. "But outside of you and the girls, and Sev, I hadn't really needed to look for more friends."

My gaze set upon the Slytherin table, searching for that familiar head of black hair. Instead, it fell upon the dark brown hair of Abed Cassimi, who sat apart from his house mates at the end of the long table.

"Well, there's no time like the present to be looking for new friends, Lily," chastised Jen, but I wasn't really paying attention to her anymore.

Because I'd had An Idea. A Crazy, Half-Baked Idea, but An Idea, nonetheless.

"Jen, you wouldn't happen to know if Abed Cassimi can fly, would you?"

Jen gave me an exceptionally annoyed look. "We're all taking Operation Fire Dragon together, Lily. And since, until about ten days ago, you were the only seventh year who didn't know how to fly at all, I'd say that chances are good that Abed Cassimi can fly."

I scoffed, equally annoyed. "I meant, can he fly well?"

"Bit of a relative term, isn't it?"

"You're exhausting!"

"You should hold a try-out and invite him, if you're so keen on Cassimi flying for you."

"Well, obviously."

I quickly scanned the rest of the Hall, hoping my gaze would land upon some inspiration. Instead, I was overwhelmed with the prospect of locating flying talent amongst the student body. Any student that had been interested in flying on a Hippogriff team had already joined one or was otherwise engaged in some inter-House activity that prevented them from participating in a club league.

"Jen, I move we banish Subsection F."

"Ah, for that we'd need the governors," she returned, pointing at me with her fork. "And with Abraxas Malfoy as Speaker, I doubt he'll grant the amendment, if he even lets your proposal get to the floor within the year."

"Sod Malfoy. Sod Black. Sod this whole ruddy thing! Hooch should have just let us duel this out in the first place, then we wouldn't be in this mess!" I complained, ripping apart my scone and stuffing it in my mouth.

"Alternatively," Jen added, "you could have been honest with everyone about your flying ability, or a little bit more even-tempered, and you probably would have made better choices."

I glared at her. "Jen, I already know this is all my fault. Just let me shift the blame for a minute out of the day so I don't go completely nutters and charm a swarm of scones to hit Bellatrix on the side of the head."

She sighed. "You're not in this alone, Lily. The only reason we can have a club league with mixed-House teams is because the rest of the student body supports the idea. We got eight teams together in a matter of days! And the Heads of House are already designating a lot of land to a proper Hippogriff stadium so we don't disrupt Quidditch practices. Just remember that apart from putting Bellatrix in her place, you're actually fostering the sort of inter-House cooperation that could end this war."

I laughed, moved by her words in a way I could not otherwise express. "I hardly think a bunch of kids racing on broomsticks will end the war."

She smiled mysteriously but didn't say anything more. "I think Cassimi will be in the library, if you wanted to ask him about doing a try-out," she said, nodding over at Abed, who was standing up from the Slytherin table, a pile of books in his arms.

"Brilliant! Thanks, chum!" I called to her as I practically fled the Hall in pursuit of my potential recruit.

Abed was already several paces ahead of me when I reached the Entrance Hall, but his gait was steady and moderate, and I caught up with ease. "Morning, Cassimi," I said, sidling up next to him.

He turned to look at me, surprised. His large brown eyes were framed by long, thick eyelashes that curled upwards in a way that made me envious. He had very pretty eyes. "Evans!" he returned. "Good morning." He smiled, displaying two prominent dimples in either cheek.

"Headed to the library?" I asked, nodding over at the books in his arms.

He chuckled. It was a nice laugh. "I'm on return duty. I have a habit of hoarding whole subjects and Madame likes to send me angry owls about it. Threatened to banish me from the library if I didn't return these."

I eyed the spines of the books he carried. They were all on the subject of the Ninth Goblin Dynastic Kingdom. "Fan of goblins?" I inquired.

"Fan of passing History of Magic, more like," he answered. "What about you? Going to the library as well?"

"Actually, I was hoping to talk you into doing a try-out for my Hippogriff team. If you're interested."

Abed seemed genuinely startled by the idea. "M-me?" he sputtered. "I'm not exactly the athletic sort."

"Can you fly?" I asked.

We'd reached the library doors by then, and he deposited his books on the enchanted Returns Trolley before turning to me. His hands free, he placed one on the back of his neck uncertainly. "I suppose so."

"Do you rise or break under pressure?"

Abed cocked his head to the side, and replied, thoughtfully, "I never break under pressure."

"And wouldn't you like to have the opportunity to befriend members of other houses in an environment that would nurture and encourage such relationships?"

He smiled a brilliant smile. "Love to."

I arranged to owl him once I set up a try-out, and we parted ways.

Unless Abed was a total dud on a broomstick, I had at least one other team member. Jen would remain my referee, I would double as racer and captain, and if I was lucky, Remus and Peter would agree to join my team as well.

I found them not soon after at Gryffindor table, their plates piled with bacon, beans, and toast. "Morning," I greeted them.

They gave their hello's through mouthfuls of breakfast, which gave me ample opportunity to ask them to join my team.

Remus pinked slightly. "I'm very flattered, Lily," he started, wiping the corners of his mouth politely with a napkin, "but I'm afraid I mustn't commit to anything that may suffer from my absence should my mother fall ill and call for me."

I nodded in understanding. He'd had many visits home to his ailing mother over the years. "Of course."

Peter grimaced when I turned to him expectantly. "Oh, rotten luck, Evans. I have to refuse as well. Unfortunately, the Wizard's Chess club is considered inter-House, and it's my last year to finally annihilate Gavin Flint."

I slumped in my seat. "This Subsection F rubbish is such a killjoy."

"Chin up, mate!" called Sirius, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe. "You're Lily Evans, Head Girl, Winged Wronski Warrior—anyone else would be mad to say no to your team!"

I tried not to let it bother me that Sirius Black had just said aloud what I had thought to myself not twenty minutes earlier.

Remus shot him a look.

"I said 'anyone else,' love," Sirius murmured, smiling down at his boyfriend.

Remus shook his head. "I appreciate the disclaimer."

Then, looking as though he'd just rolled out of bed, but still managing to appear as attractive as ever, James joined his mates at the table. He was typically late for breakfast, as he preferred to sleep in, a habit that didn't go unnoticed by his best mate.

Sirius whistled at him. "Morning, gorgeous!" he teased, eyeing the wilderness that was James's hair.

"Any more beauty sleep and you'll wake up a girl," said Peter.

Jen and I shot him disapproving glares.

James just laughed. "Oi, shut up. I'm man enough to admit that I can be just as beautiful as Evans or Till here." He took a seat next to me, and I tried very hard to ignore my quickening heartbeat and appear as normal as possible.

He was just a bloke. Sitting next to me. Nothing to worry about, Lily! Just breathe properly. That's it, one breath at a time.

Remus coughed. I panicked for a moment, thinking he might have been observing my attempts at normalcy and deducing why I wasn't behaving normally once James had sat himself beside me—had I given myself away?—but either way, James missed it entirely.

"Or Moony," James added, and he and the rest of the Marauders (including Remus) cracked up at what must have been a private joke.

Jen turned to me, a question on her face, but I shook my head. "Not a clue," I responded, as the Marauders continued to laugh.

"Why the long faces, eh, girls?" asked James, piling sausage and eggs on his plate.

"Not enough sleep, apparently," I answered dryly, which sent the four boys around us into another round of hysterics.

I shrugged, confused by what seemed a disproportionate reaction to a very bad joke. Jen and I stared at the boys, hoping for some sort of explanation, but all we got was Sirius winking, and Peter holding up a hand, saying, "Marauders' honor, innit?" followed by more laughter.

"Right, well, perhaps one of you may find it honorable to think of someone who could join my Hippogriff team?" I asked irritably.

James sipped at his breakfast tea. "Who have you got so far?"

"I've just asked Cassimi to do a try-out for me, but other than he and myself, I'm still half a team short. Not to mention second-string."

James and the rest of his mates deliberated amongst themselves before Sirius popped his head up and declared, "D'you know what? Ask Sruthi. She knows everything."

"She knows things before they even happen," added Peter.

"She's very observant," explained Remus.

James snorted. "She loves gossip, is what it is. But she won't share a secret if you don't give her one in return."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is she like the Gringotts of secrets or something?"

Sirius chuckled freely, his laugh filling up the whole table with warm reverberations.

James shot his mate an amused expression before turning back to me. "Or something. Best catch her on her own, though, or you won't get a straight answer from her."

I wondered at this new description of a girl who had been so kind and encouraging just days earlier. And I wondered what sort of secret would be of enough value to uncover the information I so desperately needed just to get a full Hippogriff team together.

"Has anyone seen her this morning?" I inquired.

Jen mumbled something through her biscuit.

"Helpful," I said. "Think I'll start in the Common Room. Reckon she isn't even awake yet."

"Bonne chance, Evans!" called a cheery Sirius Black as I got up from Gryffindor table and began a journey back up to Gryffindor Tower, seven stories up.

Have I mentioned yet how pointless I think it is that we're forced to do Operation Fire Dragon for physical fitness?

As I meandered across the flagstone floors of the Entrance Hall and towards the Grand Staircase, the light tumult of morning chatter from hungry students headed to breakfast pitter-pattered around every corner of the castle, giving it a sort of eerie, sentient quality.

I passed Frank Longbottom's newsstand, newly erected due to more demand for stories of Hogwarts' latest gossip—er, news. I stared in disbelief at the queue that had formed in front of it, Longbottom waving his most recent attempt at journalism high in the air for all to see.

And that's when I noticed it.

The photograph on the front page was not of the school governors or the massive amount of school support flooding the Quidditch pitch, nor was it even of the standoff between Bellatrix and me—the one that had provided Frank a useful headline.

No; the photograph Frank Longbottom had published for the whole school to see was one of me laughing hysterically in Abraxas Malfoy's stony face.

I looked absolutely mad, off my rocker, totally barking!

And worse than that, it appeared as though I was laughing at him, when really, I'd been nervously laughing through his attempts to make me feel inferior for being Muggleborn.

It was completely out of context!

I turned on my heel and shoved my way to the front of the queue in front of his stand, shouting "Head Girl coming through, sorry, excuse me," and finally, I was face to face with Frank Longbottom.

"Morning, Evans!" he greeted me. "Made the front page again, and apparently, you're a best-seller!"

I lifted my eyebrows at him. "Frank, I know you took better pictures than this one," I said, pointing to the photograph on the copy of the zine he held aloft in one hand. "Why didn't you use any of those?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have final say on editorial decisions," he answered diplomatically. He bit his lip and sighed, dropping his hand and the zine to his side. "I'm really sorry, Lily. I tried to add in a bit about how Mr. Malfoy wasn't very nice to you, but it was cut out as well."

He seemed genuinely apologetic, so I didn't try to make him feel any worse. "That is unfortunate, but I understand you aren't to blame." He seemed relieved. "So," I started again, "who does make final editorial decisions?"

"That'll be old Auggie. Says so right here, Evans," he answered, flipping to the inside cover of his zine, where, printed in tiny lettering, ran the following:

Augustus Rookwood, Editor-In-Chief.

"Mind if I take this off your hands, Longbottom?" I asked, though I wasn't really asking, as I had already picked up the zine and made to leave.

"It's all yours, Evans!" he called after me. Then, to the crowd of students, "Not to worry; there's plenty of copies for everyone! Don't miss the excitement, folks! The saga of the Winged Wronski Warrior continues!"

He was talking about me as though my life were some sort of serial novel. I didn't have time to focus on that—my thoughts were with Sruthi and Rookwood.

Augustus Rookwood and I were in the same year. He was in Hufflepuff House, and we may have partnered in Herbology once or twice in fourth year, but apart from that, we had never really spoken.

I tried to recall those times in Herbology. Had I done something to give him a bad impression? Had I been unfriendly or rude? Had I hurt his feelings? Was he holding a grudge against me?

It was the only possible explanation for choosing that photograph and omitting important parts of my interactions with Abraxas Malfoy the day before.

I had just stepped foot in the Gryffindor Common Room when Sruthi appeared from the girls' dormitories.

"Sruthi! There you are!" I called warmly.

Her bright green eyes widened in surprise. The look of shock she wore did not falter as I cleared the distance between us. And she was alone!

"I've been looking for you," I added. "Mind if I sit? I've had such a morning!"

Sruthi shrugged and sat down on a deep scarlet couch. "You've been looking for me?"

I took a seat next to her and nodded gravely. "Yes. I was told you might be able to help."

She cocked her head to the side, her long, curly hair falling over her shoulder in a dark curtain. "What's wrong?"

"I need to beat Bellatrix Black in the Hippogriff leagues—"

"And you don't have a team," she finished for me. She frowned. "How am I supposed to help with that?"

"Oh," I blushed. "Er, well Sirius mentioned you might know of—"

She cut me off again. "Sirius sent you?" She giggled.

"And Peter, and Remus, and James."

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Then this is—this is on them," she muttered, looking down at her hands. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, and finally settled her gaze on me. "Alright," she said decisively. "I'll help. But—you can't tell anyone else that I did."

"Sruthi, what are you—?"

This time, she did not interrupt me with words, but with her actions. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her beautiful green irises were gone, and instead, only the whites of her eyes were visible. Her mouth hung open, and in a voice that wasn't quite hers, she whispered, "Abed Cassimi, Caradoc Dearborn, Lily Evans, Bertha Jorkins, Fabian Prewett, Gideon Prewett, Harriet Seabury, and Jennifer Till."

"Sruthi?" I whispered back in mild terror.

Sruthi closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the sound rattling through the air like the dragon skeletons kept hanging from the rafters in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When she opened them, I was relieved to see they were back to normal, striking green and only slightly otherworldly.

"What just happened?" I asked.

She swallowed. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" She seemed worried.

"No! Of course not!"

Sruthi nodded, and began to plait her hair absentmindedly as she explained. "My mother is a descendant of Freyja, the old Norse goddess. The women of her family will sometimes present with the ability to go into a trance and answer questions about the future. They hadn't had one in a few generations. Until me. So, I'm still working on it."

She was officially the most amazing person I'd ever met, probably.

"So you're like a Seer?" I asked, my voice full of awe.

She shrugged and let her half-plait swing behind her. "Sort of, except I don't really see visions. I just channel information. And I can control what information I receive. Well, sometimes I'll get something more than I asked for—" She closed her eyes again suddenly, and whispered something unintelligible.

"What?"

Her eyes flew open and locked onto mine. "You have feelings for James Potter!"

I blushed even more than I had before.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," she assuaged, grinning widely. "But you should tell him how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel," I responded, realizing for the first time how utterly confused I was about James Potter.

"Really?"

I frowned. "All I know is that I nearly had a panic attack when he sat next to me in the Hall just then. Dunno what that means exactly."

She sighed. "It's always easier when you're on the outside looking in, I suppose. That's how it was for Remus and Sirius, you know. I had to reveal myself to Sirius because I just couldn't stand the way they kept looking after each other all forlornly."

"I'm glad you use your powers for good," I laughed.

She grimaced. "Don't tell them I told you that! It was supposed to be a secret."

"Your secrets are safe with me," I assured her. No one would believe me anyway.

She smiled appreciatively. "Well, I'm starved," she said, getting up abruptly. "I'm off to the Great Hall. I'll see you around?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Sruthi."

She waved and was off.

I ran up to my dormitory and pulled out a scrap of parchment. I had to write down the names she'd recited before I forgot them all. The Prewett twins were certainly unexpected, and I supposed having Harriet on the team would encourage Cassimi and disperse any anti-Slytherin sentiments.

I paused as I wrote Dearborn's name. I'd had even less interactions with Caradoc than I'd had with Augustus Rookwood. I think I may have borrowed some parchment off him in second year in the library. Still, he seemed a nice enough fellow.

Now who on Earth was Bertha Jorkins?

While I was tutoring Mary and Marlene in Charms, McGonagall sent an owl requesting to see me, only she hadn't specified in which office. I tried her office in the Transfiguration classroom, but it was locked, and so I grumbled all the way up to Gryffindor Tower—what was the point of OFD again?!—as I made my way to the office of the Head of Gryffindor House.

She let me in after a knock at the door, and I made my way into the outrageously scarlet room Godric Gryffindor had used to hold court. Probably.

Professor McGonagall stood at an empty bookshelf on one side of the room and promptly Transfigured it into a camel.

"Oh!" I exclaimed in surprise. "How astonishing."

McGonagall's lips twitched. "I'm surprised after seven years of this and you can still be astonished, Ms. Evans."

The camel trotted over to McGonagall's desk and immediately scooped up a sheet of parchment between its teeth.

"Oh, dear," muttered McGonagall. She whipped out her wand and Transfigured the camel back into a bookshelf, but it was too late; a large wad of chewed up parchment fell to the floor in a sticky mess.

"Any chance that wasn't important?" I asked.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at me as she Levitated the wad up into the air and aerated it with a mild Heating Charm. "Unfortunately, it's the reason I asked you here, Ms. Evans." As she flicked her wand to the side, the parchment unfolded itself. "Of course, the ink's gone all runny." She sighed and let the parchment drop onto her desk elegantly.

"How—er, astonishing," I said, attempting a joke.

Professor McGonagall didn't laugh, but she didn't look as stern as usual as she gestured at the plump armchair before her desk.

As I sat down, she said, "I should remember to warn my sixth years to watch their camels for any mischief next week. Now, Ms. Evans. This Hippogriff league of yours."

"Erm, it's the whole school's, Professor, not just mine." I felt obligated to correct her.

This time, I would have sworn at Circe's feet that she had smiled. "I am aware of the fact. It was quite a united front you and the rest of the students presented to the governors. They were so astonished at the insurrection. Mr. Nott resigned his post in the face of it!"

"I—er…"

Holy Merlin. Nott Senior had resigned from being one of Hogwarts's school governors? That was practically unheard of! Those posts were mostly inherited, which meant that he'd also resigned for his entire family—it meant the younger Nott wouldn't have that post in future, either. At least not without a proper campaign, etc.

"Would you like a biscuit, Ms. Evans?" McGonagall asked, holding out a tin. The smell of baked sugar and vanilla was incredible.

"Yes, please," I said. The biscuit was marvellous. I couldn't believe I was eating one of McGonagall's mythical I'm-proud-of-you biscuits!

The professor went on to tell me that the parchment had been a letter from the Ministry, agreeing to send over an official and trained referee from the Department of Magical Games and Sports to oversee the league as soon as Hogwarts could provide the appropriate facility for the game.

"A Hippogriff pitch," she clarified.

I frowned, halfway through my second biscuit (she had offered me a second one! I wasn't going to decline her!). "Can't we just use the Quidditch pitch?"

"It's not regulation size for an official Hippogriff league, I'm afraid. Apart from that, the pitch is booked through to the end of the Quidditch season."

I finished off my biscuit and asked how long it would take to raise the funds for a new pitch, and if it was even worth trying.

"It is most certainly worth trying, Ms. Evans. It is quite expensive, as it will require rather complex magic to accomplish. You'll need at least one certified Charms expert, a Transfiguration Master, a Herbologist, and a trained Spellcaster to build you a pitch."

The figure needed to pay all those witches and wizards was nearly impossible, and my heart sank. There was always some obstacle or other to overcome with this ridiculous plot! How in the world were we supposed to raise the amount of money to hire such experts in their fields? "Right. So—there goes that, then. Thank you for the biscuits."

They'd been bad news biccies. I'm never trusting those biscuits again, no matter how delicious they were!

I was halfway out of my chair when she spoke again, "Of course, if you'd allow—it would have to be accepted by the Head Boy and Girl as a gift to the students, you see, to absolve the school of any direct influence on the league—the other Heads of Houses and I are, respectively, a certified Charms expert, a Transfiguration Mistress, a Herbologist and a trained Spellcaster. We'd like to offer the students a new Hippogriff pitch, free of charge."

She was definitely smiling now, there was no mistaking it. I was practically spluttering with gratitude.

"Might I tell my colleagues we have approval from our Head Girl?" asked McGonagall.

"Yes, absolutely!" I said, nodding emphatically. "This is—Merlin! Sorry, I'm just so—"

"Astonished?" She peaked over at me from behind her cat eye-shaped glasses.

"Definitely."

She offered me another biscuit, and I happily accepted that as well.

At dinner the next day, I found myself once again slightly distracted by James.

So, even though I had my plate full with Head duties, tutoring, recruiting students to my Hippogriff team, and the fact that McGonagall had offered me not one, but three I'm-proud-of-you biscuits, my attention drifted back to the one thing that shouldn't preoccupy my thoughts at all.

James's hair.

It was just so… wild. As though he'd gone to battle with it, on a horse, with no helmet, because that's the sort of thing James Potter might do—go to battle on a horse without a helmet, the arrogant idiot. And instead of irk me, thinking about James Potter going to battle on a horse with no helmet, I was fascinated.

I shifted my gaze to find the sticky-uppy patch at the back of his head, but he'd turned around and instead, our eyes met.

I could have held his gaze. I could have smiled, appeared actually normal, but instead, because I am Lily Evans, Klutz Extraordinaire and Failure Flirt, I immediately looked away, began blinking uncontrollably, and had to feign a series of violent sneezes just to make my fit seem justified.

I excused myself immediately from Gryffindor table, holding a napkin up to my face to complete the farce and to also conveniently hide the fact that I was blushing strawberry fields forever. As I exited the doors, I noticed someone approaching me from my periphery, and I made a show of sneezing, just in case.

"It's only me, Lily."

Ah, of course.

"Remus," I said in spite of myself.

He smiled shyly, and I could tell just from the way that he refrained from saying anything that he knew exactly what had just happened.

"Was it obvious?" I asked, dropping the napkin from my face.

The lanky boy in front of me seemed to sink further into his ragged robes. "I expect you'll get a lecture from our beloved Head Boy about maintaining a strong constitution as Hippogriff Captain, but I don't think he'd ever dream of concluding that you simply fancy him."

"Oh, sweet Merlin," I groaned. I buried my face in my hands. "I can't believe this is my life right now."

He draped an arm lightly around my shoulders and gave me an awkward pat. "There, there."

"Please don't tell anyone," I begged, feeling so vulnerable and desperate to keep this information under wraps.

It was just all so confusing! And new! And bizarre! And, did I mention confusing?

Remus chuckled. "I would never!"

I peered up at him nervously, silently begging him to take this seriously.

He smiled his small shy smile again. "Marauder's honor."

It was the second time I'd heard that phrase that day. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I would rather die than betray your trust," he answered rather seriously.

I nodded, pressing my lips together solemnly. "You're a cheerful lot, aren't you?"

He laughed, and pulled away. Remus eventually convinced me that worrying about this was as useful as trapping a ghost, and that I needed to concentrate on more important matters.

"I knew that already, Remus. It is why I am currently languishing in self-conscious dismay."

"Get on with it, then."

He could be very no-nonsense, this Remus fellow, but in a very kind and understanding way. He was the very definition of compassionate, and I found myself wondering how we'd got to this point—where I was trusting him with a secret that could potentially ruin lives, mine included—and how natural and easy it had all felt.

Sometimes, I thought to myself, your soul mates are hiding out in plain sight.

Speaking of soul mates, Sirius Black left us very little time alone, and he was soon meandering around the Entrance Hall, searching for his boyfriend. Spotting us, he smirked charmingly, his elegant features rendered even more handsome with the upward curve of his lips.

His face consisted of delicate angles: there was the slight bump in his Roman nose, chiseled cheekbones that resulted in attractive hollows across his cheeks, a pointed chin hidden behind a well-manicured goatee, beautifully grey eyes hooded beneath thick eyebrows, and eyelashes so pale they were nearly invisible.

He had a rather pale complexion, but it brightened considerably whenever he was within the vicinity of a fellow Marauder. In the presence of Remus Lupin, he positively glowed.

More than anything, however, was the air about him. It became so much cooler than it was before he showed up. "Oi, afraid he's already taken, love," he called over to me once he'd found us.

"Yeah, well so am I," I returned before I could stop myself. I couldn't have said anything more incriminating.

"Oooh!" Sirius clapped his hands and leaned in as though ready to devour a most delicious dish. "Do tell, Evans."

I could have lied. I could have said literally anything else, like that I had been joking, and there really wasn't anyone. I could have made up an unknown Muggle boyfriend on the spot. There would be no way he could prove me wrong. I could have pretended that I had a secret relationship with Hamish Diggory (which was a rumor he'd started himself last year anyway).

I could have lied.

But, I panicked.

And when I panic, I don't exactly make the best decisions.

In this case, I shot a wide-eyed look of pure panic at Remus, choked, "No thanks!" and made a dash for the stairs.

I remembered that Remus had promised he wouldn't tell anyone, but I wasn't sure how long he could keep this from a prying Sirius Black.

By the end of the weekend, I'd managed to successfully ask everyone but Bertha Jorkins to a try-out. She was notoriously un-findable.

So I merely shrugged and tried to get on with forming a Hippogriff team that could theoretically abolish my nemesis in a non-duelling scenario. I figured I'd have many of those to look forward to off the Hippogriff pitch and after graduation.

Jen and I stood side by side with clipboards in hand, and a captain's whistle I'd borrowed off of James around my neck. I tried not to think about how even though he'd used a Cleansing Charm on it, his lips had habitually pursed around it. (His LIPS! I was practically kissing James Potter one-whistle-removed every time I used it!)

Before me, with Cleansweeps and Shooting Star broomsticks held in their respective grips, were many Hippogriff hopefuls. I was pretty sure I'd ask them all to be on the team; it was just a matter of who would be first and second string.

The Prewett twins, both of Hufflepuff House, were eager and cheerful to get on. They were fraternal twins with completely different faces, though they sported equally shocking red hair, much brighter than my own. Gideon was tall and stocky, and Fabian was short and wiry. They'd immediately agreed to do a try-out, stating they would be delighted to fly for the Winged Wronski Warrior herself.

Turns out being a bit of a Hogwarts legend has its perks.

Abed had tried to back out at the last minute, but after I'd invited Harriet along, he seemed much more game. They stood side by side, quiet and uncertain, I suppose, of the group's dynamic. They were the only Slytherins in a group of non-Slytherins, after all.

Caradoc Dearborn had been entirely noncommittal to the try-out at first, although flattered I'd sought him out in the library, and intrigued by the prospect of playing an ancient wizarding game.

He was about my height and wore the most naff spectacles I'd ever seen, which were vividly orange against his obsidian skin, and which he would nervously adjust and wipe clean with the sleeves of his robes. He was also one of the few Hogwarts students who preferred a bowtie over a necktie, though the look did nothing to appease the altogether unfashionable way he presented himself.

Strangely, and perhaps unsurprisingly, Caradoc Dearborn was rather self-possessed and open to this experiment of mine. That's how I had sold it to him, anyway.

I'd said, "Caradoc—may I call you that?"

He'd nodded emphatically.

"Right. Caradoc, I really believe it would be of great interest to you to join my experiment of a Hippogriff team. I am choosing from the least likely pool of athletes, as it is where I would have placed myself not two weeks ago, in order to glean pearls of wisdom from this most ancient and grand wizarding sport."

"Experiment?" he'd repeated excitedly. He'd pushed his glasses up his nose, his dreadlocks falling in his face as he swivelled suddenly in his chair to face me completely.

I'd caught his attention. Appealing to his Ravenclaw sensibilities was actually working! "I understand you're busy, but I'd love to have you. Think about it. Try-outs are tomorrow afternoon at the new pitch."

And he'd actually shown up, a school broom by his side, and sweatbands around his wrists. Practical, albeit objectively hideous.

"Alright, recruits," shouted Jen. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

We had them race each other and clocked their times, then set up Beating exercises for them to complete. Lastly, we created a team-building exercise that would force them to communicate with each other on the pitch, as they would in a real match.

For this exercise, I joined them.

To my delight, Abed was amazingly perceptive and just knew where to be. It was almost as though he were a descendent of Freyja himself!

Fabian and Gideon were excellent at communicating with each other, but had some trouble getting Harriet and myself, later on, to efficiently hand off a dud Snitch.

The worst communicator of us all, however, was Caradoc. Instead of using any sort of comprehensible language, he'd shout and wave his arms about like a loon. He only carried it off because he was so fast, he was practically a bird on a broom! He wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing.

On the other hand, Harriet was loud, if a bit clumsy on her broom (though I couldn't pretend I was any better). She kept the twins focused, gave Abed encouragement when he needed it, and was quickly able to decipher the awful arm-waving signals that Caradoc transmitted at lightning speed.

All in all, it was an interesting dynamic. None of them were outright awful at the various parts of the game—they were all decent flyers, no one was too slow to race, and they could safely wield Beater's clubs better than I had on my first try (which resulted in Mulciber's very bloody nose).

They were better than me in many ways, but they had no direction yet. I had a vision for this hodgepodge gang, and I'm sure Jen could see it, too.

We exchanged secret, happy smiles when I touched down. Sruthi had led me to a pot of gold, and as soon as I found out what her favorite sweets were, I'd be ordering heaps of them to leave on her bed in gratitude.

"Well, then," I addressed my sweaty, out-of-breath recruits. "Congratulations, you've all been accepted. Practice schedules and confirmation forms will be Owled to you by tomorrow morning. I trust you'll all have a pleasant night's sleep."

Fabian and Gideon whooped with joy and congratulated each other with a chest bump, in which Fabian went flying backwards, stumbling into Harriet, who only burst into laughter. Fabian grinned and slung an arm around her, and said, "We did it, eh!"

Caradoc stuck his hand out to Abed, who shook it timidly. "Well done, old chap!"

Abed smiled. I could practically feel the relief rolling off his shoulders. "You, too, mate," he answered.

"Oh, one more thing!" I said, grinning. "Welcome to the Big Leagues."

A/N: Just in time for the new term at Hogwarts! Enjoy. :)