6th Year

Emily passed through the platform to where the Hogwarts Express was waiting and smiled at the sight of the nervous, new first years. It was almost unbelievable that just five years ago, she had been in their place. A lot had changed since then.

With her trolley dropped off to the conductor, she approached the kiosk at the platform that sold The Daily Prophet. When she was at school, she could mooch off Violet's subscription, but during holiday and school breaks, the kiosk at 9 ¾ was her only chance for updates on the wizarding world. Her mother didn't care for so much as a mention of magic or Hogwarts at home, and when Emily had the audacity to bring home a copy of the Prophet to show her during the Christmas holiday in her first year, Noelle promptly tore it to shreds without even a fleeting glance.

But once she left for the new term, Emily let the muggle world fade away behind her. Hogwarts was better anyway.

Emily traded the clerk two Knuts for a single copy of the newest issue of the Prophet to read on the train, and she unfolded it in her hand.

Her trunk slammed to the ground when she saw the headline, big and bold and sensationalist — the Prophet's standard. Terror At The Quidditch World Cup, it read. Though it was written by Rita Skeeter, who was known for her lack of journalistic integrity, and therefore easily written off as fiction, the title still nagged at Emily. Under the headline was a full-page picture of a smoky skull and serpent cast over a campsite set aflame.

Emily had never been to the Quidditch World Cup, but she knew how big a deal it was — like the wizarding equivalent of the Olympics. Fred and George were going on and on last year about how their whole family was going and how they'd root for Ireland and how excited they were. They even tried to stealthily invite Emily, but she knew better than to try to do wizarding things over summer holiday.

Terror At The Quidditch World Cup, and they had been there. Them and thousands of others and maybe even Violet and her brother. She scanned the article, scouring — though certainly not hoping — to find any familiar names. The world seemed to melt away around her as she dug deeper and further into the paper, the sound of her own pulse muffling her ears. The thin newspaper shook in her trembling hands.

The article mentioned the Dark Mark, thought she didn't know what that was or what it meant or why it was important.

Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended... lax security... Dark wizards running unchecked... and perhaps worst of all, rumours that bodies were removed from the words, despite the Ministry's claims that nobody was hurt.

What if? she asked herself. What if?

There was no real evidence. No notable conclusion that could be drawn. It was hearsay — and from Rita Skeeter, no less. There was no proof that it was much more than rioting gone wrong, right?

Emily forced herself to take three deep, long breaths. It wouldn't be any good to freak out now, she decided, as if the words alone could steady her blood pressure and heartrate. With one last extended inhale and exhale, she folded the paper back up, clenching it in her fist.

Do. Not. Panic.

As always on the first of September, Platform 9 ¾ was brimming with Hogwarts students, old and new — too many to count. She scanned the crowd for familiar faces — Lee, Violet, the twins, anyone. The air around her was hot, more so than usual on the first of September, and she brushed away an auburn curl that had stuck to her sweaty face.

When she finally did catch sight of them — red hair all aflame and towering above the nervous first years — she ran to them, grabbing each into a bone-breaking embrace and laying a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh, thank God!" she said, and they seemed confused by her greeting. She checked their bodies for any sign of broken bone or bleeding. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"What's this all about?"

They stood there, longer and lankier than she remembered them being when she left them at Kings Cross last summer. Their hair had gotten longer too and shaggier, running almost to their shoulders. But beyond that, beyond the physical, they hadn't much changed at all, it seemed. Not like she had — with her thick hair finally settling into its waves and her prefect pin, freshly shined, and her list of O.W.L.s. And they looked at her, this version of her, with intrigue and perplexity coating their every feature, from brown eyes to freckly nose.

"You almost died," she explained to them, shoving the paper against Fred's chest. Now in retrospect, it seemed ridiculous for her to have been so worried.

He took it but didn't glance at it even in passing, instead turning with a mischievous grin to his brother. "We should go off and almost die more often then, eh, George?"

"Yeah, if this is the kind of greeting we come back to," George replied with a chuckle. "Nice to feel appreciated."

Emily pouted, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. "Well, maybe next time I'll just resign myself to the fact that you're dead."

Fred folded his arms across his chest. He shot her a challenging look, accompanied by a passing smirk and a wiggle of his brow. "You'd miss me."

"Like hell."

Her palms were still sweaty from residual nerves, but her blood pressure had returned to normal levels, and she was grateful just to be able to breathe. Then her face bent into a smile, and she looked between the two of them with chuckling bubbling within her throat. They soon joined her, each boy draping an arm over her shoulder as they moved to the train.

"Where'd you leave your stuff anyway?" George asked.

Emily broke from them to return to her trunk, which still sat where she had left it by the paper kiosk. She shot the clerk an appreciative smile and lifted the heavy thing into her arms.

The twins rushed over to her, and George took her trunk from her, dragging it behind them. "Oh no, you don't."

"You know," she began, walking in line with them back toward the train, "if you keep this up, you'll trick me into believing that you're actually nice."

"We're plenty nice."

"Oh, sure," she said in retort. Her hands clicked into place against her hips as she turned to them. "But if you're plenty nice, then there surely must be a reason why you never write me over holiday, eh?"

"We don't do homework on holiday, Princey," Fred argued playfully as his shoulders softened ever so slightly.

"Homework?" she parroted. "It's a letter. To me."

"It's work."

"At home."

Emily let out a frustrated sigh as she shook her head, her loose waves shuffling with the motion against her shoulders and back. "Then I suppose I'll just have to wait until we all get to the train to make sure neither of you are dead."

"Are we special, or did you worry this much about Lee and Violet too?" George asked as he readjusted the weight of the two trunks in his grip. Hers was much, much heavier than his, and he contorted his body at an angle to offset the weight as he carried them both.

"I'm an equal opportunity worrier; don't flatter yourselves," she said and pulled her trunk from George's hands with relative ease. "You just got the full throes of my relief because I happened to find you first."

As Emily and the twins approached the Hogwarts Express, she saw that the prefects had already begun convening near the front of the train.

"And this is where I leave you," Emily said, dropping her trunk at her feet. She didn't really want to spend the entire train ride with the other prefects when she had barely begun catching up with Fred and George, but it was a necessary part of the job.

"You sure we can't get to abandon your prefect duties this year?" Fred asked.

"If I wasn't a prefect, who'd keep you two out of trouble?" she replied playfully. She tied her hair back in a loose, messy bun with wisps falling from the sides.

"If you weren't a prefect, you could get in trouble with us, like old times."

"Sometimes I think I miss that..." she said — and it was true — "but then I remember how nice it can be to not be in trouble all the time."

Fred gasped in mock horror. "Who are you, and what've you done with my Princey?"

"She's still here, but she's got her sights set on Head Girl next term and only one year to charm her way to it. I've got to be on my best behaviour."

"Head Girl?" George let out a snort. "You were lucky to be made prefect."

He wasn't wrong. It was a right miracle that she had even been considered — much less, chosen — for prefect. She would've bet ten Galleons on Violet, the obvious choice, but sure as silver, it was Emily who received the congratulatory letter from Dumbledore in the summer before their fifth term. She couldn't figure out what possessed Flitwick to recommend her name, much less what possessed Dumbledore to accept it...

"I know, but stranger things have happened, right?" She smiled and glanced down at the prefect badge that shone on the collar of her light blue blouse. "Maybe this is the right year for strange things..."

"What kind of pull would we have with Head Girl, eh?" Fred joked as he nuzzled up to her. "Any perks?"

"No promises, but I like to think that it would be good for all of us."

"Then, hell, you've my vote — and George's too, yeah?" He threw his arm around his brother, who shrugged in a sort of resigned agreement.

"That's not how it works," she said and chuckled. "But I appreciate the vote of confidence."

They waved goodbye and went off to find Lee, and she was left with the prefects. There was a sudden twinge of anxiety that fluttered through her body.

It was Emily's second year as a prefect, so by all counts, there was no reason to be as nervous as she was. They got the real crazy stuff out of the way last term, what with the Dementors on the train.

She shuddered at the memory — a lone Dementor hovering too close for comfort, its approach chilling the air with an ominous cold. The creature stopped at her for a moment, regarded her with an empty face, and she felt paralyzed as it continued past her. But the coldness lingered in her bones, even once they were long gone.

Emily shook it from her head. It couldn't get any crazier than that. But then again, there was Sirius Black, and the Chamber of Secrets the year before that, and rumours of the Philosopher's Stone…

Before she let herself get swept up in her apprehension, she took a deep breath and headed toward the other prefects. They stood in a splintered mass of people, haphazardly organized. The fifth years clung together, regardless of house, all buzzing with the excitement that came with their new title. Off to the side, she saw Cedric Diggory chatting with her fellow Ravenclaw prefect, Roger Davies.

Despite patrolling with him all last term, Roger remained a sort of enigma to Emily. Unlike the twins, who seemed not to have changed much at all over summer, Roger filled out in himself, grown his hair a bit. His sixth year Chaser muscles were cut clear beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and Emily tried to pull away her stare.

Their relationship was strictly professional, of course, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit to hoping for something more. She had always wondered what it would be like to date someone like Roger Davies — popular, charismatic, handsome… She had come close with dating Adrian Pucey last term, but it just wasn't the same. Roger was something altogether different, and she imagined being with him was like standing under a warm spotlight, empowering but still somehow comfortable.

Maybe this was the year for strange things, she thought, and it propelled her in front of Roger and Cedric. Their conversation stopped at her entrance, but they didn't seem bothered.

"Um… hey," she started. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Cedric was the first to acknowledge her. He smiled and said, "Hey, Em; how was your summer?"

"Good, I guess. Visited my mum's family a bit. And you?"

"Went to the Cup. We portkeyed in with the Weasleys."

"Was it good?" She paused for a moment, then quickly corrected, "The match, I mean."

"The game was amazing, yeah, but then..." He let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't scare easy, but reading the Prophet was like reliving a nightmare."

There was another pang of anxiety that pulsed through Emily's blood. If Cedric thought it was that bad, then maybe it really was. Maybe Fred and George lied to make her feel better. And maybe —

"I can't even imagine what that was like." She watched Cedric's face cautiously, carefully, waiting for a betrayal of emotion to cross his features, but Cedric just shrugged.

"Wasn't so bad in the moment. Most people didn't even know what was happening until it was all over," he explained. "I only knew because my dad's Ministry, but nobody got hurt."

Roger piped in, "Well, at least the Ministry's got some good news for us, too. My brother helped organize everything, and he told me about it. You know, right, Ced?"

"I was told not to say anything, though," Cedric said with a smile. "They'll announce it tonight."

Emily looked back and forth between them, raising a brow.

Roger let out a laugh and turned back to Emily. "I'll keep it at this, then — there's a lot in store this year."

The train let out a blaring whistle, a five minute warning, and the students made their way to their compartments. Even the prefects began heading over.

"I'm gonna head over to Hufflepuff," said Cedric as he moved to the open doors of the Hogwarts Express. "Think we're about to leave soon."

"I guess I should go too," Emily said. She hoisted her trunk back into her arms.

Roger gently took it from her. "I'll come with you. We're going to the same place, after all."

They walked together in silence for a moment before the question finally exploded from Emily's tongue: "Are you really not going to clue me in?"

"About what?"

"Whatever it is you and Cedric know. Some sort of secret?"

"Oh, the good news?" he asked and waited for her to nod before he continued with a smile. "I guess I can spoil the surprise. As long as you promise not to tell anyone else."

"Of course not."

They waited at the edge of the train and let the others pass until they were the only ones left. Emily watched Fred and George and Lee make their way to their compartment at the far end.

Roger leaned in close to her and whispered into her ear. "Hogwarts is gonna host the Triwizard Tournament this year."

She pulled back, and her features crumpled with confusion. "The what?"

"I don't have too many details, but I know it's a big competition with some other schools. And that the prize is big."

They continued walking to the Ravenclaw prefects' compartment at the train's front.

A thin smile crossed Emily's lips. Her hand hesitated on the sliding door. "Are you allowed to disclose secrets like this?"

Roger shrugged and let out a chuckle, his shoulders shaking with the motion. "Eh, you'd be finding out soon enough anyway. It was nice to finally get it out of my system, though. Been thinking about it all week."

"Glad I could help then, I guess." She brushed stray fringe from her eyes and hooked it over her ear as she pulled the compartment open.

The two new fifth year prefects were already sitting, engaged in the final moves of a game of Exploding Snap. They paused to introduce themselves, an Irish boy named Iain and a black Scottish girl named Nicola.

"Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?" Iain shuffled the cards in his hand, a trick Emily remembered her father doing.

"No thanks," she answered, while the other two excitedly agreed. Emily pulled her book from her trunk and flipped through to see that there were only a few pages left in the chapter.

Roger reached out a hand, covering the top edge of the book. When she looked up at him, he asked, "Last chance; you sure you're not in?"

Emily dog-eared her page and set the book to the side with a sigh, sitting forward to join the game.

Before long, the trolley witch came by, and Roger bought liquorice wands for the compartment. Emily didn't remember him being quite so approachable, so friendly last year.

The lot of them got to talking about school. Iain loved Herbology and spoke at great lengths about the plants he cultivated with his younger sister over the summer. Nicola brought the conversation to the World Cup, and for fear of things going south, Roger quickly switched it to Quidditch.

"Believe it or not, I've been planning our Quidditch strategy all summer," he said, stretching his arms behind his head. There was a slightly manic twinkle in his eye. "And that Cup is ours this year."

There was a loud cracking snap as the cards in Iain's hand exploded in a puff of smoke, but Emily was so enraptured in the conversation that she hardly noticed.

"It's not that I don't have faith in you, Roger, but we've only won once in recent history," she replied with a coy smile and set her card atop the fresh pile.

"Well, Gryffindor lost Wood this year, and Johnson doesn't scare me, so they're an easy takedown."

Emily laughed, the noise shaking her shoulders and bouncing her hair as it fell from its hold in her bun. "If I were you, I'd be more afraid of Angelina."

He had opened his mouth to retort when the compartment door slid open, and Allison Alden stuck her head through to say that the prefects would be starting patrols soon. The prefects' compartment quickly emptied to the changing cabins once each of them agreed on a patrol destination.

Emily, of course, chose the far end of the train. She had the furthest walk, but Roger had the segment just before hers, so he offered to walk her there. She wished Iain and Nicola luck on their first official prefect duty before she and Roger headed off.

"You must really need to stretch your legs," said Roger as they walked together. "That or you were hoping to get away from me." He punctuated the statement with a playful smile.

"Away from you? Nah." Emily chuckled. "But old habits die hard, y'know? I used to love sitting way in the back."

Roger left Emily at the front of his section, knocking politely on the door of an all-Slytherin compartment. Emily rushed through her announcement to all of the compartments as she made her way to the back of the train, the very last compartment.

That was, after all, where she knew they'd be — her boys, Lee and George and Fred.

As soon as she arrived outside of their compartment, she could hear them laughing from inside. No doubt they were up to some prefect-unapproved trouble.

She threw open the door to reveal a full compartment, with the twins sitting opposite each other. Lee sat next to George, and next to Fred sat Angelina Johnson. For a moment there was a twinge of upset that passed through Emily's body. Had she been replaced? Now that she was forced to sit with the prefects, that left her seat in their compartment open to anyone else — like Angelina.

Angelina's giggling shook Emily from her thoughts and brought her back to the scene that lay before her.

On Fred's lap, in the centre of the compartment, was an open leather briefcase with a gold painted 'W' on its front. George had a book of parchment and a pen in his hands, and Lee's mouth was closed so tight, Emily wondered if it was puckered.

"Oi," Emily said and pointed at the case filled with sweets, "you know the deal — no testing your pranks on the train."

"We're just lookin' at 'em," Fred said.

"Just talkin' about 'em," said George.

"Honest."

In unison they both turned with beaming grins. "Right, Lee?"

Lee nodded, but when he moved to speak, his tongue rolled from his mouth, twice as long as usual.

Emily's mouth set into a hard line, a contrast to her newly wrinkled brow as she glared down at the twins, who were both struggling to hold in their laughter. They were red in the face, suffocated, as the hysterics spread to Lee, too, his tongue still a loose ribbon that ran down from his lips. The three boys passed along high-fives, and George made a note in a small book of parchment.

Before she could even get a word out, though, the briefcase was already packed away and stowed beneath their seat. "Yeah, yeah, we know."

"Prefects are fun-killers," Fred said with a groan and sulked. He stretched his long legs out on the seat opposite him, between Lee and George.

"Be grateful I'm letting you keep your unauthorised contraband," she said, setting her arms into hard angles at her hips.

"Why don't you just go back to your fancy prefects' compartment, you spoilsport?"

"Maybe I will."

"What'chu here for, anyhow?" Lee asked, his tongue now finally back to normal. "Official prefect business?"

Emily didn't want to be jealous of Angelina, but everything seemed different with her in the compartment. Last year, she sat with Oliver Wood, so he could prepare her for her duties as Quidditch captain, but this year, Wood was gone, so Angelina was free to take Emily's empty seat with the boys.

And they didn't seem so happy to see her when she showed up either. They took the mickey, yeah, as they always do, but it wasn't the same.

"We're almost at Hogsmeade, so you lot know the drill." Her eyes flickered around their compartment for a moment before she closed the door and continued her rounds.

She had planned to meet back up with Roger where their sections met, but the feeling of being replaced nagged at her and dragged her back to the far end compartment. She stood outside of it with her fingers resting on the handle... What could she even say?

Before Emily knew it, the door slid open, and Angelina stepped out, almost running straight into her.

"Oops!" Angelina said and smiled. She adjusted her robes draped over her arm so they didn't drag on the floor. "Sorry, didn't know you were there. I'm just heading to the loo."

Emily pursed her lips into a sort of smile and nodded. Once Angelina was gone, she let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She was free to see her boys.

She poked her head into the compartment to see the three of them lounging about, still in plainclothes.

"Seriously?" she started, and they jumped at the sound of her voice.

Fred patted the empty spot next to him. "Seat's open for now if you want a break from being all prefecty."

The offer was incredibly tempting, to be back like old times, but… "Angelina's coming back."

"I'm sure we can find somewhere for you," he said with a playful smile and winked.

Emily rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a grin. "Please get dressed."

"As you wish," Fred said in response, but he was drowned out by another voice.

"Hey, Em!" Roger called out from the end of the train car. She jerked around to see him right as he smiled, charming. "You almost done?"

"Just a minute!" She turned back to see the three boys changing into uniforms, standing around practically half-naked. "Jeez! What's it with you lot and stripping down shamelessly in the compartment?"

George and Lee laughed, pulling on their robes. Fred pulled his white button-down over his head and followed her out of the compartment, closing the door behind him. "What's it with you getting all chummy with Davies and Diggory?"

"What are you on about?" she asked, trying not to keep her eyes on him while he tucked in his shirt, unbuttoning his trousers to do it. She let out a huff.

"I saw you before with them, whispering and shite." His voice was harsh, and the tone slapped her across the face.

"You're not my only mate, you know. Just like I'm obviously not yours." She crossed her arms across her chest. "And for the record, there's nothing wrong with chummy."

"Chummy's fake."

"Chummy is polite," she corrected. "They're prefects, too. Makes sense to be friendly."

"Yeah, yeah. Careful you don't get too friendly, eh?"

"What's it matter to you who I get friendly with?" She scoffed and nudged him on the arm, but his face didn't really soften. "Come off it, Fred; you're turning it into a big deal when it's really nothing."

Roger called her name again, more a question. She had just about forgotten he was waiting for her.

Emily turned to tell Fred goodbye, but he was already gone, the compartment door slammed shut behind him.