The Lost Children

by nymphxdora

On 20 August, Teddy Lupin thought his fifth year at Hogwarts would be decidedly average. On 21 August, the first muggleborn child disappeared and everything changed.

15. Chapter 15: Flux

Chapter Fifteen: Flux

Recap: Ella (fondly called pari, which means 'fairy' in Hindi, by her family) and her boyfriend, Leonardo Torricelli (more commonly known as Leo) have a fight. Victoire and Teddy steal a piece of parchment from Tabitha James' bag at Uncle Harry's Christmas party, which has Ella's maternal family tree on it. The name Mandira Tiwari is circled and Tabitha seems to think Mandira has some kind of connection to the case. Tabitha sleeps with Munroe to get access to his apartment and snoops around once he's asleep. She finds (a) a photo from his Hogwarts graduation of him with Mandira Tiwari and someone named Cecilia Selwyn, and (b) recent correspondence from Mandira, apparently from Azkaban.

Content notes/trigger warnings: sexual harassment in scene III.

---

.oOo.

I: Origins

Ella Anderson stood at the bottom of the Anderson's mahogany staircase, frozen in place.

All around her, the house was in a panicked frenzy. The cleaners were at work, the whirr of the vacuum irritating, ubiquitous and difficult to ignore. Ashton, who was to start school tomorrow, was frantically searching for his lost history assignment, rooting through books, laundry and - inexplicably - the kitchen cupboards. Her father was in his office, and every now and then, she could hear him shouting at his computer about financial records, missed deadlines, or the guest list for their company's charity benefit. Everything around her was in motion, and yet she felt completely and utterly still.

Teddy had sent her the Tiwari family tree by post, along with a letter explaining the context of how and why he had obtained it. She remembered unfolding the parchment carefully, running her fingers along the black letters and lines, understanding it both completely and not at all.

Her mother never spoke about her family. It was something Ella had simply accepted. While she had cousins from her father's side that she regularly interacted with, she'd never met anyone from her mother's family except her grandmother. When she'd passed away, they hadn't even attended the funeral. Ella had never asked why - she always assumed that Rhea was an only child, and that her extended family members didn't want anything to do with her thanks to her lack of magical ability.

But now, seeing the tree, she wondered whether her mother had deliberately distanced Ella from the rest of the family. Learning that her mother had a sister was enough of a shock, but learning that her mother's cousin was embroiled in recent events?

She found it difficult to process, more so because she didn't have the whole story. As much as she wanted to, it wasn't as if she could knock on Tabitha James' door and ask for an explanation.

Who is this woman?

Why do you think she's involved?

And most of all, has she done anything like this before?

All she had was a stolen piece of parchment and hearsay. And this, to Ella Anderson, who had an insatiable desire for knowledge, was simply unacceptable.

(six days before)

Her first port of call was Rajiv. The morning after she received the letter, she woke up and went down to breakfast early, hoping to catch the butler alone before her parents or brother arose. She'd briefly considered asking her mother, but after more careful consideration, had quashed the idea, telling herself that if her mother somehow found out about the tree and how she had obtained it, Teddy might get into trouble. Deep down, however, uneasiness churned in the pit of her stomach.

Her mother wasn't the kind of person to lie and keep secrets. Ella knew that if there was something she hadn't told her, there was likely a good reason. Maybe she needed to be protected from the truth. Common sense and family loyalty told her to trust her mother. But three children were missing. If it had something to do with her, she needed to know.

She found Rajiv in the dining room, setting a platter of cut fruit on the deep oak table. "Up early, pari," he commented, bemused. Ella was normally an early riser, but there was something awfully soporific about the holiday season. She found herself constantly exhausted, and slept in late every morning.

She took a deep breath in to steel herself, her hands unconsciously closing into fists. "Who's Mandira Tiwari?"

The older man inhaled sharply. Furrowing his eyebrows, he surveyed her carefully. She felt rather uncomfortable under his scrutiny; her fingertips interlaced behind her back and she shuffled slightly. It took every inch of her self-control to maintain eye contact.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked her after what felt like an eternity.

"It doesn't matter."

"Ella." He only called her by her given name when things were serious, and she felt her stomach plunge. She had been hoping that this was all a misunderstanding.

Sighing, she reached into the pocket of her silk dressing gown and withdrew the family tree. She unfolded it and handed it to the butler, who scanned it, his eyebrows drawing closer and closer together.

"Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter," Ella said again, emphatically. Everything began to come out in a rush of words, a steady stream of consciousness: "Who is she? I didn't know my mother had cousins - or even a sister! Why would she keep this from me?"

She knew what he was going to say well before he said it. He bit his lip, and glanced at the plate of food distractedly, and for a moment, Ella hoped that she had broken through. But Rajiv's guiding value was, and always would be loyalty. If her mother had asked him to keep a secret, he would keep it.

"It's not my place to say. You'll have to ask your mother."

(the present)

She hadn't asked her.

How was she to broach the topic? Talking to Rajiv about it was one thing, but to the person who it seemed had actively concealed something important from her?

Whenever Ella Anderson usually had a question, she turned to books. There was something reliable about words in print; she felt reassured by the facts they held. And yet there was no book that would tell her how to do this. It was one of those things in life that she would need to figure out for herself.

This was her last chance, she thought as she stood at the bottom of the staircase. She went back to Hogwarts tomorrow and before she left, she needed to find out. Writing to her mother wasn't an option - this wasn't the sort of thing you put in a letter. The thought of having to go through a whole term with an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty and bubbling fear in her stomach made her nauseous. Ella knew that she didn't have a choice.

She found Rhea Anderson in her study, typing furiously away at her computer. Seeing her, Ella began to back away from the doorway. She's busy, she thought. This isn't the time.

"Ella?" Rhea looked up from her computer, and Ella froze. "Are you alright?"

It was now or never.

"Who's Mandira Tiwari?"

Rhea's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline and a muscle in her jaw twitched. Her fingers froze, hovering in mid-air above her keyboard. Ella watched with trepidation as slowly, her mother regained movement. Exhaling deeply, she leaned back in her chair and reached up to massage her temples.

"You'd better come in," she said at last. "And shut the door behind you."

Ella followed her mother's instructions dutifully. She pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Rhea, who was now biting her lip, uncertain of how to proceed. The silence between them was deafening and the younger witch wondered if she should say something - perhaps apologise for bringing up what seemed to be an uncomfortable topic, or provide more context.

Thankfully, Rhea began to talk. "I knew you would find out eventually."

"Find what out, Mum? Who is she?"

"Mandira Tiwari is my cousin."

"I know that." Ella tried unsuccessfully to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Rhea sighed and closed her eyes. "She is also a convicted Death Eater."

It was as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ella felt as if she was caught in a blizzard wearing next to nothing, slowly freezing to death. Her skin prickled and her blood felt cold in her veins. She stared at her mother, who was looking back at her with wide, fear-filled eyes.

This had to be some sort of nightmare.

She tried to speak, but no words came out. When they did, she was only able to whisper a single shaky, halting syllable: "What?"

Rhea's gaze dropped, and she began to fiddle with her bracelet. "I didn't want you to know. I wanted to protect you. I-" her voice broke, and Ella was almost afraid to look at her because she knew she'd see tears in her eyes.

"Mum," she said softly, reaching out and taking Rhea's hand in hers. Their fingers intertwined and Rhea squeezed her palm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"No," her mother cut her off, inhaling shakily. "No, you have every right to know. She's related to you too, and there's nothing I can do to change that. I'd rather you … I'd rather you found out from me than from someone else."

She paused and wiped a tear from her cheek with her free hand before continuing. "My family - the Tiwari's - are Purebloods. I must be the only Squib they've ever produced. Mandira was … is a talented witch, several years younger than me. She went to Hogwarts, and they say that while she was there, she fell in with a bad crowd. Got the wrong sorts of ideas, supposedly fought on the wrong side during the war. I suppose it wasn't difficult for her. My family has some … questionable ideals. It's why you've never met many of them." She smiled sadly. "Anyway, shortly after the end of the war, Mandira went a bit mad. I guess she found it difficult to believe that it was over. Many Death Eaters did. It was a time of uncertainty - a lot of people thought someone would step up and take Voldemort's place. Ultimately, no one did, though some tried. Maybe Mandira thought she could assume leadership, or maybe she knew she would get arrested anyway. I can only guess at her motivation."

Ella's shoulders went limp. "What did she do?"

"She replicated a crime committed at the end of the First Wizarding War. Blew up a street of muggles, only instead of killing twelve, she killed twenty."

The bile rose in Ella's stomach, and it was all she could do not to throw up. Her mother yelped and she realised that she was gripping her hand so tightly that the colour had drained out of her knuckles. Letting go, she brought her hands together, interlacing her fingers tightly as if she was physically holding herself together.

How could this have happened? How could someone in her family have committed such atrocities? It shook her to her core. She might have never met Mandira, she might have never heard of her until a week ago, but she was still connected to her by the blood that ran in both of their veins. All of a sudden, everything that had happened felt too close, too personal. She wanted to jump up from her chair and run out of her house, out of her neighbourhood, as far as she could get until her legs collapsed beneath her and she found herself on the concrete, out of breath and aching all over, and yet she knew it would do her no good.

Some things, once heard, cannot be forgotten.

"What happened to her?" she asked. Each word was a Herculean task; her head was spinning, and it took all the force she could muster to focus on a single thought, a single action.

"She's in Azkaban. Locked away for the rest of her life."

She exhaled, her eyes drifting closed in an expression of relief. That this terrible woman was imprisoned was as much of a comfort as anything could be; Ella wasn't sure how she would have responded if she'd found out that she was still out there, capable of striking again at any unexpected moment.

Rhea reached forward, cupping Ella's shoulder with a comforting hand. "It's okay, pari," she said, attempting to hide the all-too-palpable tremble in her normally calm voice. "She can't hurt us. Not any more."

Ella nodded, trying to ignore the sharp, stinging pain at the edges of her eyes and the prickling feeling that had spread across her skin. She got up shakily, vaguely aware of her body supporting her, and turned to go when suddenly, another name popped into her mind.

The family tree had been unfamiliar in more ways than one.

"Mum," she began hesitantly, before pausing.

"Yes, pari?" Her mother's voice was soft, sympathetic.

"Who's ... " she couldn't remember the name. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Something that looked like anger flitted across Rhea Anderson's face, but it passed so quickly that Ella couldn't be certain whether or not she had imagined it. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the room had unmistakably changed; the air felt heavy.

Rhea's words, when she spoke at last, cut through the air like knives.

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a sister."

"But - " Ella began.

"Pari. I have told you enough for today." She was firm, final. Ella, understanding that she had asked enough, turned and left.

As she walked up the stairs to her own room, she shivered. It was as if someone had dropped her into a tub of ice and left her outside, wet and shaking, without anything to cover herself. The minute she reached her bedroom, she shut the door and curled up underneath her soft woolen bedcovers, trying to hold onto heat, trying to hold onto a semblance of normality.

How could this have happened? How could she have known nothing about her aunt? She thought she could vaguely remember reading about a street of muggles blown up at the close of the war, but she wasn't sure if it was a false memory that her brain had constructed to soften the blow of the unexpected news. It didn't matter, she suppose, whether she knew before or not. What mattered was that she did now.

And yet her last interaction with her mother remained prominent in her mind. One thing had been revealed, yet, but another remained hidden, lurking beneath the surface.

Ella Anderson was used to keeping secrets. After all, very few people at Hogwarts knew that her mother was a Squib - it had taken a year before she'd even confessed the fact to Alfie and Teddy. But for the first time, she realised that though she kept secrets, she did not expect those close to her to keep secrets from her. Finding out that her mother of all people had and continued to was a shock to her system.

There comes a time in life when something will change you, forever.

.oOo.

II: Training Ground

"'During the war itself, Mandira Tiwari's name was rarely, if ever, mentioned in conjunction with the Death Eaters. However, at the end of the war, Tiwari was thrust into notoriety. On the 5th of May, 1998, she murdered twenty muggles, including three children, by casting a Blasting Curse near an entrance to Battersea Park, London - a crime similar to that thought to have been committed by Sirius Black at the end of the First Wizarding War (now known to have been committed by Peter Pettigrew, see Chapter 3). Although she pled innocent and her motives for the crime remain unclear, the overwhelming evidence against her - including proof that it was her wand that cast the curse - was enough for a conviction. Like many other Death Eaters, Tiwari was sentenced to life in Azkaban for her crimes."

Silence filled the carriage, only the rhythmic sounds of the Hogwarts' Express chugging along the tracks audible. Teddy, Alfie and Victoire stared at Ella, who had just finished reading aloud from a book entitled The Life and Crimes of Death Eaters. Riley was not present – she was holed up in a carriage on her own, trying to get through an incomplete Charms essay.

"I – I've got nothing to say," stammered Alfie at last.

"There's nothing to say," sighed Ella, closing the book and slumping back in her chair. "My mum's cousin was a death eater." She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and turned to Teddy. "I'm sorry."

"Because your mum's cousin was a death eater?" he said incredulously. "Ella, it's not your fault."

"Yes, but because of the death eaters, your parents are -"

"It's still not your fault," he said firmly, and he meant it.

She bit her lip and nodded. "I still feel awful."

"I know," Teddy said softly, trying his best to sound reassuring. In truth, he couldn't imagine how Ella was feeling. To learn something like this, so suddenly and unexpectedly - it must have come as a real shock to her. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he simply did not know how.

"Riley's aunt was a death eater too," Victoire supplied in what she hoped was a helpful voice. "It hasn't changed how I look at her, and it definitely doesn't make her a bad person."

Ella chewed her lip. "I know."

"There's one thing I don't understand though," interjected Alfie, crossing his arms. "Why does Tabitha care?"

"What?"

"You know," he continued, more uncertainly, "the whole reason we know about … this is because Tabitha thought that Mandira was connected to the kidnappings. But if she's in Azkaban, then how …"

Teddy opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again when he realised he didn't have an answer.

"He's got a point," Victoire said.

"I've been thinking about that," said Ella, "and I can't figure it out either. She can't have broken out, it would have been all over the news. And prisoners aren't allowed to write to people, so she can't be getting other people to pull the strings for her."

"What about visitors? Could she be giving people instructions when they visit her?" asked Alfie.

"No." It was Teddy who answered this time. "Death eaters - the ones who murdered people especially - are in maximum security. Visits have to be supervised by an auror." Alfie looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. "I used to have nightmares about death eaters, so my godfather explained the security procedures to me."

"How old were you?"

"Eight."

"Ah."

"It just doesn't make sense!" exclaimed Ella suddenly, surprising the other occupants of the carriage. "Tabitha must have a reason for suspecting her, she must. She wouldn't have had that family tree, she wouldn't have been so desperate to talk to Robards unless she had a good reason and yet nothing seems to make sense. What M - Tiwari did was awful, but I don't understand how it ties into what's going on now!"

"Ella," Teddy said soothingly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the witch's arm.

"I know what you're going to say," she sighed, reaching up to massage the back of her neck.

"And what's that?"

"That we should trust Tabitha, and let the aurors do what they have to do."

At this, he half-smiled. "I do think we should trust Tabitha," he began (he did not notice both Alfie and Victoire roll their eyes), "but I don't see there being any harm in us digging around a little."

"We don't even have half the resources that the aurors do," she pointed out.

"Doesn't mean we can't see what we can figure out."

"But - "

"Ella," Alfie interjected. "Are you telling us that you're seriously okay with just waiting around until Tabitha decides to tell us what she's up to? If she tells us what she's up to, given the fact that we don't actually know her. It isn't as if we regularly go for coffee with the auror department."

There was silence in the carriage as both Teddy and Alfie watched Ella closely, trying to gauge her response. At last, she removed her hand from her neck and shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see what we can find out. I had planned on going to the library sometime soon to see what I can find out about Mandira … and Radhika."

"Who?" Teddy looked at Alfie, who made a confused face.

"Radhika Tiwari. My mum's sister. I asked my mum about her - I didn't know I even had an aunt - but she refused to tell me anything about her. She said that as far as she was concerned, she didn't have a sister."

"That's – interesting." And odd.

"Yeah." Ella stared out of the window distantly, speaking more to herself than anyone else. "She told me about Mandira without much effort on my part, really, but when it came to her sister … she just closed off, all of a sudden, and I didn't want to press the issue. Of course, it's possible that she's just not got a good relationship with her - I imagine she's a witch, and probably doesn't look particularly well on my mother's non-magical status, that's the most logical explanation but … " she trailed off.

"It still doesn't make sense," Alfie finished for her.

She scoffed lightly. "A lot of things don't."

"Have you told anyone about this? Besides present company, of course."

The Ravenclaw shook her head. "I don't … I'm barely just processing this myself, Alfie. I'm not ready to share it. I don't even know whether I want to share it. Of course, I'm sure Riley will find out by extension – in fact –" she broke off and turned to Victoire, "if you don't mind, I… I wouldn't mind Riley finding out. I don't know how I would tell her – we're not that close – but if you – that is to say, Riley might know something, given her connections and you – "

Victoire understood what she meant. "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

"What about Leo?" Alfie said bluntly.

"Leo?" Ella's expression was blank.

"You know. Your boyfriend."

"Yes, I know who Leo is, thank you," snapped the witch. Alfie recoiled slightly and she softened her tone. "What I mean to say is, I haven't spoken to Leo since the fight."

"The fight?"

"The fight."

"What fight?"

Ella opened her mouth to respond angrily but Teddy interjected gently: "Ella, you never told us about a fight."

"I didn't?"

"No." He seemed to be playing the role of the peacekeeper today.

"Oh."

"Do you want to tell us about the fight?" Alfie pressed, evidently curious.

"Leo and I had a fight on Christmas day," Ella mumbled. She briefly related the tale; Teddy had no doubt that at the time, it must have seemed like a big deal, but in light of recent events, it seemed almost inconsequential. Still, it had obviously affected Ella, given that she hadn't spoken to Leo at all since.

"If it's worth anything," Alfie said, as Ella finished her story, "I think you're right. Magic should help everyone."

"It certainly shouldn't hurt people," Ella muttered under her breath, leaving both boys feeling rather uncomfortable. "Either way, you probably understand why I don't particularly feel like talking to Leo at the moment."

"You can't avoid him forever," Teddy reminded her. "You are in the same house after all."

"Don't remind me," she groaned, burying her face in her hands. "God, these whole holidays have been a right mess. And to think we have O.W.L.'s in five months!"

Alfie let out a tiny screech. "Don't say that!"

"But it's true!" Ella said, looking rather affronted as she pushed her glasses up her nose. "These exams are important, Alfie, they'll determine what subjects we can do in sixth and seventh years, which'll determine what careers we can go into, and I for one want to keep my options as open as possible. I'll need to start making a revision plan as soon as we get back to the castle - my notes from the beginning of last year are a terrible mess, I'm going to need to rewrite them all. And - "

Teddy tuned out, staring out of the train window and watching the dull green fields roll by. For a moment, it felt almost as if everything was back to normal: Ella continued to ramble on about schoolwork, not realising (or perhaps not caring) that no one was listening to her, Alfie had unwrapped a chocolate frog and was examining the card with interest. It was almost as if the last few weeks hadn't happened.

It gave Teddy hope that despite everything that was going on, despite the fact that things seemed to be changing so dramatically, some things would remain the same.

III: Turning Tables

(the past)

Once upon a time, there were four girls.

Daisy Shipkins was the sort of eleven year old who, despite her relative inexperience, thought she knew exactly what her school life was going to be like. It may have been the result of too many issues of Teen Witch, eagerly devoured when her parents weren't looking, but Daisy simply knew that she was going to be that girl. The one that everyone hated, but loved; who they gossiped about, but desperately wanted to be. She, with her glossy ginger hair, her icy stare (perfected through hours of practice in the mirror) and her polished fingernails, was going to be that girl, and she was going to become her effortlessly. Of course, she was far too young to understand the downsides of being that girl – but more on that later.

Morna Clemmons was as much of a natural leader as a cocker spaniel puppy, and rather resembled one too. She had straight blonde hair with a slightly stringy fringe that fell awkwardly over her eyes, pale freckled skin, and a rather flat nose. Her face was round and she had the pudgy look of an overgrown toddler. Morna had read the same magazines that Daisy had and while she had always considered that girl as a figure to be regarded with admiration and fear, she had only ever considered becoming her in her wildest dreams. Because even at eleven years old, Morna Clemmons knew (though perhaps not consciously) that she did not have it in her.

Giovanna Downing did not want to be that girl for the simple reason that she did not have to be. Perhaps the most unusual out of the four, Giovanna was oddly secure in herself; it was almost as if she'd skipped a developmental stage (or three) and had one morning woken up knowing exactly who she was. She was the sort of girl who did not easily make friends primarily because she was content with keeping to herself. When she did make friends, her silence was often taken as complacency; she said little and did little, and that often made people believe that she was easily influenced. A follower, not a leader – and often, Giovanna simply couldn't be bothered to correct them.

Matilda Goshawk was an unusual case, for she didn't quite seem to fit into a box. She wasn't that girl – she was far too quiet for that – but she wasn't the sort that would blindly follow another, nor was she the kind that could operate on her own. She was somewhere in the middle, and that, perhaps, made her both the one with the most potential, and the one who was most vulnerable.

She was acutely aware of the latter, but not of the former when, after being Sorted into Hufflepuff House on her first day at Hogwarts, she timidly approached her House table, amidst the thunderous applause that only paused for long enough to allow each student to be Sorted. Pulling out the nearest available chair, she sat down next to the two other first year girls who had been placed into Hufflepuff, briefly smiling at each of them. She watched as her brother was Sorted into Slytherin with a mixture of relief and sadness, and joined in with the clapping when "Hayes, Alfie" was made a Hufflepuff.

"Shipkins, Daisy," was one of the last names called. Matilda watched as a petite girl with long red hair strode up to the hat and confidently sat on the stool, her posture perfect. The hat seemed to pause, and the Hall waited with baited breath as it seemed to mull over its' decision. When it finally exclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF," Matilda realised – to her own surprise – that she had not expected 'Shipkins, Daisy' to end up in the same house as her. She wasn't quite sure why, she reflected, as the redhead smiled broadly and pranced towards the Hufflepuff table, but there was something about her that seemed decidedly unlike Matilda. And although she knew that each Hogwarts house contained a range of people, she still expected some sort of common thread to link them all. To be entirely fair, though, she mused, watching Daisy hug an older girl with similarly coloured locks sitting further down the table, it wasn't as if she actually knew Daisy. She could be perfectly nice. She supposed that she would find out soon – they'd be sharing a dormitory after all.

But then again, there's no time like the present.

Daisy slid into the seat opposite Matilda, which was (miraculously, or perhaps fatefully) still empty. She smiled at the other three girls winningly, but no-one said anything until after the Sorting had finished, Professor McGonagall had given a short, to-the-point speech, and the table had been filled with nearly every dish that Matilda could imagine. It was only once the Hall began to fill with a dim chatter that Daisy Shipkins spoke at last.

"You must be the other three, then."

None of them seemed to know what to say (or in Giovanna's case, cared enough to say anything), so Daisy clarified: "The other three Hufflepuff first-year girls." She smiled broadly at them, before breaking eye contact and helping herself to a slice of turkey. "We're going to be roommates, you know."

"Really?" Morna asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah," affirmed Daisy (Matilda noted a vague air of superiority), "yeah, you live with all the girls in your house and year. I'm glad there are only four of us – I think four's a good number. Five's too many."

"Yeah, definitely," said Morna. Matilda nodded, and Giovanna looked as if she didn't have an opinion either way.

"Well, what are your names?"

Introductions were exchanged – Matilda was almost certain she noticed Daisy's eyes narrow at her last name, but the other witch's expression was back to normal within a split second, so she thought it may have simply been a product of her imagination. It was quickly revealed that both Giovanna and Daisy were from London, whereas Morna was from somewhere in the country. When Matilda mentioned that she lived with her father in Guildford, Daisy asked at once: "Where's your mum?"

"Sorry?"

"Your mum."

Matilda's gaze dropped to her plate and she busied herself with cutting her roast potatoes in half. "Spain. She's the Ambassador."

"Fascinating. Of what?"

"Of – er – well, Britain."

This time she was certain she saw Daisy's eyes narrow.

"Fascinating," the redhead repeated almost mechanically before swiftly changing the subject.

The dinner itself passed in a blur of food and vaguely stilted conversation – if it could be even called that. Daisy chattered away to the other three girls about school, and her family (she mentioned her older sister, Laura, in nearly every other sentence). Every now and then she would slip in something about how she had so many friends back at home, or how she had had a private tutor before Hogwarts. Matilda, mostly unable to get a word in edgewise, had more success talking to the boys next to her – Teddy Lupin and Alfie Hayes – who seemed nice enough, but Daisy kept drawing her back into the conversation. Matilda was beginning to grow quite sick of her.

Dessert had just been cleared away when things all changed.

And, surprisingly, it was all thanks to Morna Clemmons.

After spending most of the evening enraptured by Daisy Shipkins, Morna suddenly became aware that she was sitting next to a fourth-year boy when he asked her if she had enjoyed the feast. She replied that she had; he asked her her name and so they began to chat. It was two whole minutes before Morna felt something against her bare leg. Gasping, she realised that the boy's fingertips were grazing against her thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her skirt. She looked at him in horror, simultaneously not understanding what was going on and understanding perfectly.

"Y- you – " she began tentatively, but he brought his free finger up to his lips and smiled dangerously.

"Don't tell anyone." His hand moved further, pushing her skirt up and Morna squirmed uncomfortably.

"S-stop it." She muttered, her face going very red.

"You don't mean that," he purred.

"N-no, I –" she tried to summon her strength, "I – I do."

It had sounded a lot firmer in her head. The boy merely laughed and Morna felt her body tense, and her skin grow cold. His hand was too high now, she needed him to stop, he shouldn't be doing this, she'd asked him not to, she needed him to stop and –

A loud, piercing scream filled the Great Hall. Mouths dropped, hands were clamped over ears, and heads swivelled around to look at the Hufflepuff table.

"What the hell?" The boy jerked his hand backwards and into his own lap, casting a horrified look at Morna. "What in Merlin's name did you do that for?"

But Morna sat staring at him blankly, her shoulders shaking. "I – I hadn't – I didn't –"

"She told you to stop," came a cold voice from behind her.

Daisy Shipkins stared daggers at the boy, who visibly cowered.

"Y-you," he began.

"Save it," she said. "If you ever touch her again, I'll see –"

"You're a first-year – "

She continued, ignoring him: "I'll see to it that you never touch anyone or anything, again." She paused to let her words sink in. "Capiche?"

He hesitated, and then nodded.

Morna turned to Daisy. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"Don't sweat it," Daisy said, rubbing Morna's hand reassuringly.

"That was a brave thing you did. Screaming like that," said Giovanna, unexpectedly. Morna, Daisy and Matilda all turned to look at her; Giovanna had barely said a word since she had introduced herself. Suddenly aware of the attention, the brunette shrugged. "What? It was."

Daisy flipped her long ginger hair over her shoulder. "I suppose it was."

"I'll say it was," said Alfie Hayes, who was sitting next to Daisy and rubbing his ear ferociously. "But a little warning next time, Shipkins? It'll be a miracle if I can actually hear anything tomorrow."

At this, Daisy laughed, Morna giggled, Matilda grinned and Giovanna suppressed a grin.

"Y'know," said Daisy, "if I have to spend the next seven years sharing a dormitory with three other girls, I'm quite glad that I get to share with you lot. I know we don't know each other well but…" at this, she smiled – both to herself, and to the others – an infectious sort of smile that made Matilda feel as if she was in on a secret, "I think we're going to be great friends." She paused for a moment, as if to let this momentous declaration sink in. "Don't you agree?"

Morna Clemmons agreed because she instantaneously knew, as her sort of girl often does, that sticking with Daisy would mean that she was in, and going against her would mean that she was out.

Giovanna Downing agreed because she really couldn't care less, but was of the opinion that going through Hogwarts with at least some friends was likely to be useful.

And Matilda Goshawk agreed because she believed in giving everyone a chance; despite her initial misgivings, perhaps this Daisy Shipkins would turn out to be a nice person after all.

So began the tumultuous adventures of the four Hufflepuff girls.

(the present)

Five years later, on a day much darker and colder than that fateful first of September, Daisy Shipkins, Morna Clemmons, Giovanna Downing and Matilda Goshawk sat together at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall with the rest of their House, enjoying the start of term feast. It was the first time, Matilda mused, that they'd sat together all year as proper friends; Daisy had technically been angry at her since the summer, and she hadn't apologised until the Christmas holidays – a letter that Matilda, quite frankly, had been shocked to receive.

Still, she was glad that Daisy had finally seen sense. It was nice for them all to be back together again – although there had never really been a point when she'd been friendless, she missed having her three best friends around her. True, Daisy could be a pain sometimes, Morna vapid, and Giovanna complacent, but they did always have fun together, and the dormitory just wasn't quite the same when they were fighting.

Giovanna seemed to be thinking the same thing. "It's good to have you back, Dais," she said, her voice barely audible above the din of the hall.

At this, Daisy looked confused. "You never lost me."

Giovanna shrugged. "You seemed like a different person last term. We've always known you to be a touch shallow and self-obsessed – "

"Oi – "

" – but you've never been a bad person."

"Yeah," Morna interjected, "yeah, like remember in first year when you screamed when that creepy guy was –" she shuddered and broke off, but her point had been made.

"Precisely," said Giovanna. "But last term – what with you being downright cruel to Matilda and Bella Watson –" the former shifted uncomfortably at this " – it just wasn't like you. I'm glad you realised that."

"Yeah, well … I had help." Daisy had a distant look in her eyes, but it was gone within a second. "Plus, it was quite the shock when this one – " she gave Morna a friendly nudge "- stopped talking to me."

"Yeah, well, you deserved it," said Morna, uncharacteristically cheeky.

"Prat." Daisy stuck out her tongue before sobering. "But also fair enough. I wasn't very nice." She turned to Matilda. "Especially to you, Mat. I'm sorry."

"I know," said Matilda. "I've forgiven you."

There was a moment of silence, and then Giovanna asked: "Has Bella Watson?"

"Sorry?" Daisy looked startled.

"Forgiven you."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Well?" Giovanna demanded. "Has she?"

"I don't see how that matters," said Daisy lightly. "Pass the salt, will you, Mat?"

Matilda obliged, but noticed that Daisy was very obviously not looking at her as she took the shaker.

Giovanna, however, was not willing to drop the topic. "Why aren't you answering the question? She either has or she hasn't."

"Gi – " Morna began, a pleading tone in her voice. She, at least, could see where this was going.

"Well?"

"She hasn't," said Daisy simply – but once again, she could not meet Giovanna's eyes and the brunette picked up on this.

"You're lying."

"Honestly," laughed the ginger witch, "why would I lie?"

"Because you haven't apologised to her, have you?"

Silence. Matilda watched as the false smile fell off Daisy's face.

"I don't see how that's any of your – "

"Oh come on, Daisy, here I am going on about how you've changed, and you're a better person, and here you are letting me believe all that idiocy when really, you've not changed at all!"

"I have!" exclaimed Daisy petulantly.

"No!" Giovanna shouted, shaking her head. People were starting to look at them, but neither Daisy or Giovanna seemed to have noticed. "You haven't at all. Why didn't you apologise?"

"I –" Daisy seemed almost at a loss for words. "I don't see why I need to!"

"You don't – " Giovanna broke off and laughed incredulously. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"I – "

"Save it! I don't even want to hear you try and defend yourself. You don't see – how can you not see why you need to? You almost ruined her life, Daisy, you accused her of breaking a rule that she didn't."

"Technically that was Laura, not Daisy," Morna mumbled under her breath.

"But Daisy did contribute," Matilda pointed out. "She helped to spread the rumour."

"Oh, so you're on her side now?" Daisy snapped, sneering at Matilda through narrowed eyes. "I should have known."

"N-no," Matilda began, but the other girl cut her off.

"What is this anyway? Did the two of you – " she gestured at Matilda and Giovanna " – only accept my apology so that you could come here and scream at an unsuspecting me? Publicly humiliate me in front of everyone?"

"No," Matilda tried to protest, but Daisy did not hear, for Giovanna cut her off with a loud, overdramatic laugh.

"Please," she said emphatically, "stop playing the victim. You're embarrassing yourself enough as it is."

"I am not!"

"You are too."

"Please stop it," Morna whimpered, but neither Daisy nor Giovanna paid her any heed.

"I can't believe I ever thought you were sorry. I can't believewe were ever friends."

"Maybe we never were!"

"Well, we definitely aren't now. Friends don't lie to each other!"

"I didn't lie to you!"

"You said you were sorry!"

"To you! I never said anything about being sorry to her."

"Well, that's the damn problem isn't it?"

"I don't see how this is any of your business!"

"You really are a shallow idiot aren't you?"

"If I'm a shallow idiot, then..." the redhead seemed to be scrambling for words, "then... you're a stupid...unfeeling... harlot!"

At this, Giovanna scoffed: "I'm surprised you even know what that word means!"

But Daisy was not one to be stopped so easily. A thin, almost devilish smile had formed on her lips, and when she began to shout again, her voice, though still clearly audible, was far more calculated: "No, wait, you can't be a harlot because to be a harlot, you need to actually have some experience with boys and you don't have any because you're too much of a prude to even tell the boy that you like that you like him. So maybe you're just a frigid, immature – "

"GIRLS!" a male voice boomed across the hall, silencing then. Professor Macmillan was striding towards them, very red in the face. "That will be quite enough. Ten points from Hufflepuff, each! You will both quieten down and eat your dinner, or go back to your dormitory."

"But, she – " Daisy began to protest, but Professor Macmillan was not having it.

"That's twenty points from Hufflepuff you've lost now, Miss Shipkins. Care to try for thirty?"

Daisy's face grew nearly as red as her hair. She stared down at her plate, and for a split second, Matilda thought she looked rather despondent. But then she looked up again, and there was a hard, steely determination in her face and a flatness in her eyes.

"You know what? I'm not very hungry anymore." She pushed her chair out with incredible force and, getting hurriedly to her feet, pulled her cloak around her and stormed out of the hall.

There was a moment of pin-drop silence, and then, the screech of chair legs on the floor. "I – I should go," stammered Morna Clemmons, standing up and clumsily gathering her cloak. She didn't meet Giovanna and Matilda's eyes; instead, she kept her gaze carefully pinned to the ground as she left the Hall hurriedly, half-walking, half-running after her distraught friend. Matilda watched her go with a sinking feeling in her heart – she should have known that it had all been too good to be true.

"Circe," Alfie muttered to Matilda under his breath, "What is it with you four and feasts?"

Giovanna heard this and turned to address him, her voice carrying so all of Hufflepuff House could hear: "Believe me. It wouldn't be Hogwarts unless one of us was stirring up trouble."

.oOo.

IV: The Other Side of the Bridge

All in all, Teddy Lupin reflected, as he sat in the Great Hall at breakfast-time the next morning, it had been quite a tiring first day back, what with Ella's revelation on the train, and the showdown between Giovanna and Daisy at the feast. He'd barely been able to sleep at night; his brain had been far too active.

He said so, and Alfie nodded in agreement. "I barely slept either."

"Well," Ella said demurely, taking a sip of water, "I had an excellent sleep."

Teddy raised his eyebrows at this. "You did?"

"Mm."

"That makes perfect sense," he said sardonically. "I stayed up all night thinking about what you told us about on the train, and you slept like a log."

Ella looked slightly affronted at this. "It's not like I haven't lost sleep over it," she replied icily, and Teddy immediately felt a guilty feeling settle in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Her eyes softened and she waved a hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge. All's still not well in Hufflepuff House?" She jerked her chin towards the doorway; Daisy and Morna had just entered the Hall and Daisy, noticing Giovanna and Matilda chatting animatedly at the end of the Hufflepuff table, had grabbed Morna's arm and dragged her off in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Teddy shook his head. "Honestly. Girls."

"Daisy should have apologised," Ella said simply

"Yeah," Teddy had to agree with that, "but to end a friendship over it? I don't know, if I was Giovanna I'd have tried to – I don't know, get her to apologise? Not yell at her in front of the whole school."

"No, I suppose not," she sipped her water again, absentmindedly.

"Well," said Alfie, getting to his feet, "I should probably go. Quidditch practice."

"Already?"

"You know Macey." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin forbid we get one day off."

"You've had a whole holiday off."

"No. She gave us homework."

"And I bet you did her homework – which you aren't graded on, by the way –instead of the Transfiguration essay, which contributes to your end-of-term mark and is crucially important for your O.W.L.'s."

Blushing, Alfie protested: "I've done half the Transfiguration essay."

"Right."

"Alright, maybe a quarter…"

At this, Teddy laughed. "You're a terrible liar, Hayes."

"But I have done ha—I mean, a quarter."

"Go, Alfie," Teddy waved the other towards the door. "You'll be late."

Alfie's face dropped. "Right. Sorry." He sped out of the Hall, leaving Teddy fondly shaking his head.

"I should probably go too," said Ella, placing her fork and knife soundlessly on her empty plate. "There were a couple of things I wanted to double-check in my Transfiguration essay before lessons start tomorrow, and I need to get my hands on the library's copy of A History of Wizarding England: Volume 18 before anyone else does."

"I don't think there'll be a big rush," Teddy commented lightly.

"You'd be surprised," muttered Ella. "You've finished, right?"

"Yeah." He watched her as she got up to leave – she seemed alright, he thought. There was nothing obviously wrong, but he had known her for five years – it didn't need to be obvious for him to know that there was something bothering her. Because though she may have pretended otherwise, Teddy knew that Ella Anderson had not been sleeping well.

It was the little things, really. Though she was dressed impeccably, as always, she wasn't wearing eyeliner like she usually did, and the whites of her eyes were tinged with red. Her stockings were slightly bunched around the ankles and she hadn't said a word before she had had several large sips of black coffee.

"Ella," he said abruptly, and the Indian witch paused.

"Yes?"

"I –" he faltered. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

He saw a spark of surprise, followed by gratitude. "Of course I am."

"Really?" He felt almost silly asking it.

"I promise."

"Well… if you're not, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Teddy," Ella said, almost bemused, "we've been best friends for five years. Who else would I talk to?"

This made him feel a little better, but as he watched her leave the Hall, and got ready to leave himself – he, too, had work he needed to get done before term officially began – he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that she wasn't being entirely truthful with him.

.oOo.

V: Chasing

"Did you hear?" Victoire Weasley exclaimed excitedly, rushing up to meet her best friend outside the Charms corridor. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" asked Riley Carrow, amused.

"Peter Rose was kicked off the Quidditch team!"

"Wait." Riley held up a hand. "Who?"

"Peter Rose!"

"Not answering my question, Gryff."

"Huh?" Victoire paused for a moment and then, realising her excitement had gotten the better of her, began to explain: "He's one of the Gryffindor Chasers."

"Oh – the one with the curly hair?"

"No, that's Marcus Abbott. The blonde one."

"Oh, him."

Victoire rolled her eyes dramatically before continuing on: "Well, apparently – and I don't know the full details because Clarissa Billings only just told me – but apparently he was doing awfully in Potions - and by awfully I mean like, actually failing out, like actually on the verge of getting a T, so Professor Smith had a word with Professor Longbottom, and they decided that he ought to spend more time in the library rather than out on the Quidditch pitch. So they gave him a rather stern talking to, and boom, just like that, he's out." She clapped her hands to demonstrate the suddenness of this action. Riley stared at her blankly.

"So did he drop out, or did he get kicked out?"

"How does it matter?" said Victoire impatiently. "The point is that there's a spot open on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The second-string Chasers are all seventh-years and they don't think they can commit to the full schedule of first-string training, so Katherine's opening up tryouts."

Riley waited for her to continue; when she did not, she prompted: "And?"

"You're making me do all the work here – come on, Riles. There's a spot open on the team."

"I repeat – and?"

Victoire sighed. "And, I was thinking I might try out."

"Are you kidding?" the Slytherin witch exclaimed. Victoire looked rather hesitant, so she thought best to clarify: "That's fantastic!"

"Right?" the blonde beamed, her face lighting up. "I mean, I wasn't sure when Clarissa said, but then I saw that Katherine Mansfield – the captain – had posted a sign-up sheet and I thought… oh, why not, it's not like I'm an awful flier, and I have plenty of practice from playing with Teddy so much over the holidays and … and I signed up!"

"As much as I despise Quidditch, I have to admit, I'm happy for you."

"Well, I haven't gotten it yet," Victoire said lightly, although there was a definite note of worry in her voice. "There were a few other names already down, and I'm sure the list will grow, and I'm sure there are plenty of people better than me, but I just thought – "

"Vic," the other interrupted, "you'll do great. I'm sure of it."

"Thanks," the blonde said, blushing. "I mentioned I was trying out to Katherine –"

"Katherine?"

"Mansfield, captain – honestly, Riley do we even go to the same school? She said she thinks I should give it a shot – she's not seen me fly in a while, but I don't know, she thinks I'd be okay. And I guess Quidditch is sort of in my blood… most of my uncles and aunts played for Gryffindor, and Aunt Ginny used to Chase for the Holyhead Harpies, so hey – " She broke off uncertainly. "I'm not going to make a fool of myself in front of everyone, am I?"

"Well," said Riley, "you can't exactly predict how these things will go. You might do great, or you might drop the Quaffle on Katherine Mansfield's head –"

"You've really got your bedside manner down, don't you?"

"Shush, let me finish. My point is that you won't know whether or not trying out is worth it until you actually do it. Because it could go great, or not-so-great, but if you don't try out, you won't know."

Victoire stared at her funnily. "That's...that's actually decent advice."

The Slytherin shrugged. "Yeah, well, you're rubbing off on me."

"About time too."

"Oi! I resent that!"

The duo continued to bicker light-heartedly as they approached the Great Hall. Victoire almost didn't notice Teddy leaving – surprising, given that his turquoise hair made him rather hard to miss. When she did spot him, she called out to him, and he obligingly came over to say hello to her and Riley. Victoire wasted no time in telling him about her intention to try out for the team.

Predictably, he was incredibly enthusiastic: "That's amazing, Victoire! Of course you should try out – I've been telling you you should for years."

"Yeah, but no one below fourth year really gets on the team."

"Alfie did," Teddy pointed out.

"He's an exception. He's a pretty good Chaser."

"Yeah, but so are you!"

Her cheeks grew warm at the firmness of the compliment. Teddy's unwavering belief in her was … she couldn't quite describe how it made her feel.

"Hey, you should come and watch tryouts!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Both of you."

"Are you sure you want us there?" said Riley, doubtfully. "I'd feel worse, I think, if I knew people were watching me."

Victoire shook her head firmly. "No, I think having you there would be great. Moral support and all that. I mean, of course you don't have to come –"

"We'll be there," Teddy said quickly, and her stomach did a tiny back-flip.

"Great! It's Wednesday evening – "

"Hold on, sunshine," Riley frowned, "I don't think I can be there – what time is it?"

"Four."

The other witch looked rather embarrassed and ducked her head slightly. "Yeah, no can do – I have a –" she mumbled something incomprehensible.

"A what?" Victoire and Teddy chorused.

"A tutoring session," she muttered, the expression on her face dark, as if to suggest that if either of them even thought of teasing her about it, they ought to think again.

"What are you getting tutored in?" Victoire crinkled her nose.

"Transfiguration. Professor Ellacott continues to be unamused by my inability to turn a porcupine into a pincushion."

"Who's tutoring you? I could tutor you, I'm not bad at Transfiguration."

"Lilian Fawley – she's top of seventh year, so I suppose it makes sense." Riley forced a smile. "But anyway, our first meeting is on Wednesday. I can try and make it out early, but I'm not sure I'll be able to. I'm sorry, I'd have liked to come."

"Oh," said Victoire, slightly disappointed, "I suppose it'll just be you then, Teddy."

For a moment, she half expected him to cancel too – surely he must be busy, what with Alfie and Ella, and his O.W.L.s coming up. But she was pleasantly surprised when he smiled reassuringly at her: "Don't worry. I'll definitely be there."

"Great!" The blonde beamed back at her best friend, the smile stretching across her face, and felt her insides warm as he smiled back. The disappointment Riley's cancellation had caused her seemed to have vanished.

Suddenly, she couldn't wait for Wednesday evening.

.oOo.

VI: Sunflowers, and...

"I think it's great that Victoire's trying out for the Quidditch team," Alfie commented to Teddy as they walked back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, the latter having popped down to the pitch to watch the last few minutes of practice. "She's a good flier, and Merlin knows that Gryffindor need all the good players they can get. They're not a very strong side, Chaser-wise and with Leslie Stiles gone, their Seeking is average, at best."

"But if Victoire gets it, you'll have to play against her," Teddy reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'd rather play against a good team than a poor one. More fun."

"Fair enough." Pause. "Hey, do you have any tips? I could pass them along – or you could just tell her yourself if you see her before I do, but y'know, just in case you don't."

"Hm." Alfie's eyebrows creased in thought. "Well, I suppose … don't drop the Quaffle –"

"No kidding."

"- shut up, I wasn't finished. Before you so rudely interrupted, I was going to say that if you hold the Quaffle in one hand consistently and make sure your other hand is on your broom for stability, you're less likely to drop it. Oh and you should sort of follow your instinct when it comes to deciding whether or not to pass the Quaffle. Like don't pass for the sake of passing, but don't just hold onto it mindlessly if someone has a better shot than you and – oh, hello, Daisy!"

Daisy Shipkins had just descended a staircase, and was standing just in front of the two boys, who slowed to greet her. Strangely, Teddy noted, she didn't seem particularly pleased to see them; in fact, she was distinctly avoiding their gaze.

"Hi," she said brusquely.

There was an awkward moment of silence, when none of them could think of anything to say. Teddy tried to get a better look at Daisy's face in an attempt to better gauge her emotional state but failed: her hair was draped in such a way as to mask her expression almost entirely.

He was about to ask her if she was alright, given the events of the previous evening, but she spoke first: "I have to go."

"I – er – alright," Teddy said, awkwardly, but she hadn't waited for his response. Turning on her heel, she quickly moved down the hall, and, rounding the corner, disappeared out of sight.

"What was that about?" Alfie asked Teddy, but the latter simply shook his head.

"I've got no idea."

(Twenty minutes earlier)

"E-everyone hates me," choked Daisy Shipkins between loud, throaty sobs. She pulled a tissue out of the box that her companion had helpfully supplied, and dabbed her eyes delicately. "I…I apologised," she sniffed, blinking back hot tears, "like you said I should, and everyone… everyone forgave me and it was all back to normal and then –" She began to cry hysterically again, unable to continue.

"I am quite aware of what happened last night," the individual sitting opposite her reassured her.

"Right," managed Daisy between sobs, "right, of course you are. Everyone is. And it's all because I didn't apologise to B-Bella Watson."

"And do you think you should have?"

"No!" exclaimed the girl emphatically. "I- I mean, perhaps. But that's my decision. You – you don't understand, she's – she's been horrible to my sister, I can't just forgive her that easily, you know. And if I apologised to her…" she trailed off. "You don't understand."

"Oh, but I do," demurred her companion. "Should you apologise to Miss Watson, you will feel… how best to put it – disloyal, perhaps, to your sister, who has had an ongoing rivalry with Miss Watson for years."

Daisy stared. "Yes," she sniffed at last. "Yes, that's right. I can't do that to Laura."

"Of course you can't, and your friends were wrong to expect you to."

"Everyone hates me."

"Now I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, Morna doesn't," amended Daisy, "but that's because she'll… she's a loyal friend, she'll follow me anywhere. But Giovanna and Matilda," her face darkened, "they won't. And I don't understand why. Giovanna has an older sister and a younger brother, she must know what it's like. And Matilda… well, Matilda I can understand. She hates her brother, or her brother hates her – no one really knows what's going on there, they're twins, but they act like complete strangers. But the point is that neither of them gets what I'm going through. Not like you."

Daisy Shipkins looked up at Professor Charles Smith, and he smiled back, warmly, reassuringly, perfectly. There was something about his presence, about opening herself up to him that made her feel secure, at peace. Hogwarts had become threatening, uncontrollable, but his office…his office was her safe space, where she could pour her thoughts, feelings and worries out and just know that he would understand.

"I am glad you feel that you can be open with me," he said, "and I do hope you know that this office is always open to you."

She nodded in response.

"I'm sorry to hear that things haven't been going well with your friends, and I know it must be difficult for you. But perhaps…perhaps it is a sign." He cracked a smile and Daisy couldn't help but smile back, because there was something infectious about that glint in his eyes. "I never was much good at Divination, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. If things haven't worked out with these girls…perhaps they're not the people you're meant to be friends with."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps, Daisy Shipkins, you are meant for bigger things." He paused. "Bigger people."

Oddly enough, there was something about this that resonated with Daisy, although she couldn't pin down exactly what it was. If she was being entirely honest, she wasn't even sure she knew what Smith meant. When she asked him to clarify, he simply laughed.

"At this point in your life, Hogwarts is everything to you. It's your home: where you live, sleep, study and eat. But there will come a point, Daisy, where you will leave this castle and everything in it behind. And the world out there is filled with more people, more opportunities than you can ever imagine. Your world is not Hogwarts, Daisy Shipkins, despite what you might think." He paused briefly to let his words sink in, before reiterating: "You are meant for bigger things."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, believing and gullible. "D- do you really think so?"

He smiled at her, and she knew that he understood. "Of course I do."

.oOo.

VII: Tryouts

Ask any Quidditch captain what their least favourite time of the season was, and they would undoubtedly reply: "Tryouts."

Sitting in the stands, Teddy couldn't say he blamed them. Gryffindor trials had been barely running for ten minutes, and Katherine Mansfield had already had to dismiss three first-years, two Hufflepuffs, and two more second-years who had almost gotten seriously injured after mucking around with the bludgers. Within another two minutes it became very obvious that four more first-years had yet to master the basics of flying. It was very clear to Teddy that Katherine was trying her best not to scream, but her patience was wearing thin.

The competition, at least, had been whittled down. He had been rather nervous for Victoire when he had seen how many people were trying out, but there were now only four players remaining: Victoire, one younger and one older boy, neither of whom Teddy knew, and – much to his surprise, and disgust – Terence Gates.

He was watching the four do drills with the Quaffle when he became vaguely aware of a presence behind him. He turned and, recognising the figure, smiled by way of greeting. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Giovanna Downing said, grinning as she climbed down the stairs and slid into the seat next to him. "Is Alfie having you spy?"

Teddy laughed and shook his head. "Nah, my friend's trying out. Victoire Weasley?" Giovanna nodded to indicate she was familiar with the name. "I came to give her moral support."

"That's kind of you," commented the brunette. "I'm here to support my brother." She gestured to the younger boy, who was eagerly passing the Quaffle to Victoire. "He's a third-year – Quidditch mad. I'm not sure how good he is, actually, but I promised I'd come watch him try out, so – here I am."

"That's kind of you," Teddy echoed.

The two sat together in silence, their eyes watching the figures on the pitch. It occurred to Teddy that he'd never been alone with Giovanna before – every time he had spoken to her, it had been with one of the other Hufflepuff girls, or with Alfie. He knew very little about her, and wasn't entirely sure what to say to fill the silence between them.

It was Giovanna, who thankfully, broke the ice: "How do you know Weasley, then?"

"Huh? Oh. We've been friends since we were kids, really. Her uncle's my godfather, and I'm quite close with his family."

Giovanna nodded. "That must be nice."

"Yeah," Teddy mused. He supposed it was nice that he was a part of the Weasley-Potter clan. But then again, he couldn't help but wish that it wasn't under these circumstances – that he had his own family, as well as his extended family.

Giovanna seemed to realise this at the same time he did, because she suddenly said: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I – it must be difficult."

He nodded. "Don't worry, I know. It…it is, but it's okay."

More silence; he'd never really spoken about his parents with anyone other than Alfie and Ella, although everyone in school knew. He'd tried keeping it a secret at first – he hadn't wanted anyone to feel sorry for him, or to think of him differently because he was an orphan. It had taken him a while to realise that he didn't need to hide who he was, who his parents were. When people had found out, there had been very little negativity – very little change at all, in fact.

"My – er – my dad's dead," said Giovanna suddenly. "He died in second year. I had to go home for a while, I don't know if you remember."

He did. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she managed a weak smile. "It's just…well, you get over it, don't you? But there's always a hole inside, like … like you're incomplete, like you're a puzzle and there's a piece missing, only you know you'll never be able to find it."

It was as good a description as any, Teddy thought, faintly aware of the aching hole in his own heart.

"I'm sorry," said the brunette, "gosh, look at us – we come out here to have a good time, to support the people we love and here I am, being melancholic."

"It's fine," responded Teddy, earnestly. He paused briefly, and then, awkwardly: "Look, I know we aren't exactly…we don't talk much, but I think you're – er – very nice, and …" he broke off, trying to formulate a coherent sentence in his mind. "I suppose what I'm trying to say," he resumed, "is that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm …well, I'm here."

Giovanna nodded. "Thanks, Teddy. And vice versa. Even though I know you probably don't think much of me."

This took him aback. "Sorry?"

"Well, I've always been one of Daisy's gang to you, haven't I?"

She said this with such alacrity that Teddy wasn't sure how to respond. It was true, of course, but he didn't want to exactly confirm it outright…

"It's alright, you know," continued Giovanna. "I wouldn't think much of me either."

"Don't say that," said Teddy automatically.

She waved her hand dismissively. "You're just being nice."

"No, I – " he hesitated. "Well, alright. But still – I don't really know you. And – and I think it was awfully kind of you, last term, to stick up for Matilda the way you did. She…Daisy was being horrible to her, and you recognised that and stood up to her, even though you probably knew that it would end in –"

"Social isolation?"

"Yeah."

Giovanna bit her lip, as if thinking carefully about her next words. "Here's the thing: I'm not sure I really care about what Daisy thinks of me…or what anyone thinks of me, you know? But – and Merlin, this is going to sound incredibly cheesy – I care what I think of me. And I want to make sure that I'm doing the right thing."

Teddy couldn't help but agree. A moment of silence passed, and his eyes had just flicked back to the Quidditch pitch (which he had been neglecting – he wasn't even sure where exactly Victoire was) when Giovanna spoke up again:

"I think you're really nice, you know."

Teddy turned back to her, and said, jokingly: "I try to be."

"You are," the brunette affirmed. "I'd…I'd like it if we could be friends."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that too."

A loud roar came from the pitch, capturing both Hufflepuff's attention. Terence Gates seemed to be caught up in some kind of argument with Katherine Mansfield: she was angrily directing him off the pitch, and he was protesting fiercely. Victoire was hovering nearby: Teddy couldn't quite tell with the distance, but she seemed to be rather smug about something or the other.

"What just –" he began to ask, but Giovanna shook her head.

"No idea."

They simply had not been paying attention.

(ten minutes earlier)

Why was she sitting with him?

Victoire Weasley was hovering on her broomstick several feet into the air. She should, technically, be concentrating on the instructions that Katherine Mansfield was shouting at them; she should be concentrating on the Quaffle; she should be concentrating on anything except Teddy Lupin.

But in all seriousness, what was he doing sitting with Giovanna Downing? She hadn't invited Giovanna Downing – she certainly hoped Teddy hadn't. Still, she supposed it wasn't a bad thing if he had. She'd never specified that he couldn't bring a friend along. But still… he wasn't friends with Giovanna Downing, was she?

Why did she even care?

"Weasley," snapped Katherine, and Victoire redirected her attention to Quidditch. "You're not focusing on the Quaffle."

"Right." She took a deep breath in and tried to clear her head. Focus on the Quaffle. The Quaffle. Nothing but the Quaffle.

No but seriously, why wasn't Teddy looking at her?

She was vaguely aware of Katherine dismissing the sixth year boy, leaving only her, Terence Gates and a third-year named Frederick Downing on the pitch. It dawned on her that Frederick must be Giovanna's little brother, and that must be why Giovanna was in attendance. Still, she didn't have to sit with Teddy and distract him.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Terence Gates hovered close to her, and she didn't even bother to suppress her groan. She'd been annoyed enough when he'd shown up to tryouts – of all the people in Gryffindor, she thought she disliked Terence Gates the most. Even if he hadn't had it out for her best friend, she would have disliked him: he was arrogant, irritating, and most of all, thought he was Merlin's gift to witches.

And, for the record, he was very much not.

He was attractive enough, Victoire thought, with his pale blonde hair and starkly contrasting dark eyes. There was an air of mystery around him, too – something that Victoire found almost magnetic, but couldn't quite put her finger on. But the expression he wore was off-putting: his arrogance was etched in the curves and lines of his face.

He also had an uncanny ability to read her. He followed her gaze and settled on Teddy and Giovanna Downing, his lips curving upwards into a smile. "You really could do better, you know," he commented.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Victoire snapped.

Terence opened his mouth to reply, but was thankfully cut off by Katherine, who began to deliver instructions for the next drill. Victoire made a point of concentrating. Katherine would play Keeper, and the three Gryffindor's trying out would have three attempts each to score.

"I bet you whoever scores the most goals gets on the team," whispered Terence, his breath tickling Victoire's ear. She whipped her head around and glared at him.

"Shut up, Gates."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Scared?"

She was about to retort cleverly, when the Captain shouted: "Weasley. You're up."

"You heard the lady," smirked the blonde wizard. "You're up."

With one last glare, Victoire zoomed up to the hoops. Katherine tossed her the Quaffle, and, breathing deeply, Victoire got into position. Adjusting her position on her broom, she straightened her back and held the Quaffle out in front of her, attempting to get her bearings and visualise where she wanted it to go. She'd done a number of penalty shots before: this was no different.

She tried to focus on the towering wooden hoops in front of her, but she found her eyes being drawn to the dull patch of turquoise that occupied her peripheral vision. Don't think about him, she pleaded with herself. Don't.

But what was he talking about with Giovanna? Was he talking about her? Were they talking about how they didn't want to be there at all? Were they planning on leaving at any moment?

"Weasley," Katherine warned, and Victoire snapped back to reality. Hesitantly, she rolled the Quaffle in her hands and stared at the hoops, trying to formulate a strategy in her suddenly blank mind. Come on, Victoire.

Summoning her strength, she threw the ball at the centre hoop.

It sailed through the air, and missed entirely.

Damn, she swore under her breath.

"Bad luck, Weasley," Terence said insincerely as she flew back to the two boys. She did not deign to reply, privately cursing herself for missing. If only she hadn't been so distracted.

Terence was up next and scored. Frederick Downing scored too, leaving Victoire feeling wholly inadequate. She thanked her stars that if anything, it wasn't a sudden death knockout. There were still two more chances – two more opportunities to get the Quaffle through the rings and stay in the game - and have a chance at the team.

Katherine changed the order for the second round. Terence played first and missed, as did Frederick Downing. Victoire felt a wave of relief go through her as she watched the Gryffindor captain catch both balls in her hands, stopping them from sailing through the hoops. She was in this again.

It hit her, as she flew up to take her second shot, just how much she wanted this. Maybe the Quidditch team wasn't anything special – it was, after all, just a House sports team, no different to say, Gobstones, but there was just something about the thought of being a part of something bigger than her that made her bones ache with longing. Being a part of Gryffindor Quidditch would give her a chance to shine – not just as a member of the famed Weasley clan, but as Victoire.

She'd never had the chance to shine as just Victoire before.

It was this thought that powered her. Taking a deep breath in, she pitched the Quaffle with all her might. Katherine dived to save it, but missed.

She still had a chance.

Her confidence, however, was quashed a moment later when Terence, a smug expression lining his face, turned to her. "Nice shot, Weasley." He paused, and for a moment she thought that he was actually being nice. Unfortunately, he quickly followed it up with: "Too bad it was pure luck."

Of course. "Shut up, Gates."

"Make me." He quirked an eyebrow, challenging her.

"I don't need to bother with the likes of you."

"Scared you'll fall for me? Or scared you'll fall off your broom?" He cocked his head, as if surveying her carefully. "You do look rather unsteady on your broom."

Victoire knew he was attempting to intimidate her, but she tightened her grip on the handle of her broomstick regardless. "Leave me alone."

As Frederick flew up to take his third shot, Terence turned to Victoire, a gleam in his dark eyes. "Let's make a bet, shall we? If you don't score on your next go and I do, you go on a date with me."

She scoffed. "As if."

"Where's your sense of spirit, Weasley?" he taunted. "If you're so certain that you can beat me, make the bet."

"What do I get if I win?"

He shrugged. "You can pick."

"Generous."

"Don't look a gift Hippogriff in the mouth. Does this mean you'll take the bet?"

She didn't respond, lost in thought. "You'll leave Teddy alone."

The shock was evident in his eyes. "What!? No wa – "

"If you're so certain that you can beat me, make the bet."

He hesitated. "Fine. You're in?"

For a moment, she hesitated. What if she did have to go on a date with Terence? A million voices protested.

And then, a voice that drowned out all the others: It would make Teddy jealous.

When she looked up at Terence again, she didn't feel like herself at all. Her voice sounded oddly foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. Her eyes narrowed, and she held her chin firm and high. "Fine."

His eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected her to say yes. She stared him down staunchly; he was the first to break eye contact, flying away at Katherine's command to take his last shot.

He pitched. Victoire watched as the Quaffle sailed through the air, mentally mapping its' trajectory. It was going to go through the hoop, he was going to score, she was going to lose...

Katherine caught the Quaffle squarely between her hands and Terence cursed loudly. Victoire let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

All she had to do now was score.

She flew up to the penalty position and caught the Quaffle from Katherine. Her eyes flicked to Teddy. She couldn't tell whether he was watching her, or whether he was engaged in conversation with Giovanna. The pitter-patter of her heart intensified.

She was going to fail.

She was going to miss and then she'd be forced to go on a date with Terence. She would be the laughing stock of the whole of Gryffindor. Her parents would be disappointed. This whole debacle would simply become a story to tell at family parties. Someone would leak it to Witch Weekly on a dry news day. It would become yet another example of how Victoire Weasley had tried but failed to live up to expectations.

The blonde swallowed and closed her eyes. Time around her seemed to slow; all she needed to do was focus on the rings in front of her, on the warm, leathery Quaffle in her hands. Taking a deep breath in, she allowed the clean, sharp air to enter her nostrils and clear her head. She had done this a million times before and she was going to do it again.

Suddenly, she didn't care whether or not Teddy was looking. She was going to make him look. In that moment, she was determined to be so good that no one, no matter whether or not they were named Teddy Lupin, would ever underestimate her again.

A small smile appeared on her face. Firmly gripping the Quaffle, she raised it and

It soared through the centre ring.

.oOo.

VIII: The Club

"I can't believe I made the team!" Victoire Weasley repeated for what must have been the hundredth time that Monday. Riley Carrow resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew that her best friend was excited, deservedly so, and she was happy for her, but Victoire had been rambling on about Quidditch for the better part of an hour and Riley had run out of responses.

The blonde continued to talk about practice schedules and Quaffle drills as they entered the library corridor, on their way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Riley's attention drifted; Victoire's voice faded into the background.

She spotted her from a fair distance away. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, and she was walking with her head down. Several large books were tucked under her arm. As they drew closer, Riley could feel the aura of weariness around her – as if she hadn't been sleeping properly.

The Slytherin interrupted Victoire's chatter: "There's something I need to do."

The blonde gave her a confused look. "We have –"

"Tell Professor Macmillan I'll be late."

"Can't you do whatever it is later?"

"No," said Riley, shaking her head. "It needs to be now."

Victoire cocked her head, confusion still evident on her face. Slowly, she followed Riley's gaze, until her eyes landed on the girl. She surveyed her for a moment before turning back to her best friend, and hesitated: "Riles?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "Don't… don't say anything abrupt."

Riley could not help but smile. "When am I ever abrupt?"

The other rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence between the two girls until, sighing, Victoire turned and hurried on ahead. Riley waited until the corridor was empty and silent before approaching her target.

"Ella?"

The Indian witch looked up, surprised. "Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing hesitantly. "Hi Riley. Didn't see you there."

"Can I talk to you?"

Ella was far too polite to show discomfort visibly, but Riley could see her reservation in her expression. Nevertheless, she nodded, and the two girls drew into a quiet corner.

Riley hesitated, uncertain how to begin. She wasn't even sure if she was doing the right thing. She'd never done it before – she wasn't really the sort of person to provide advice or reassurance, and, to put it quite frankly, she didn't know how. And it was Ella Anderson, too – Riley didn't think that they had ever had a conversation before, just the two of them.

"Look, I –" she tried, before breaking off. Doubt flickered through her mind, and she almost withdrew, but for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't.

"You?" Ella prompted.

Abruptly: "Victoire told me. About…you know."

"Oh." The Ravenclaw broke eye contact, glancing at her feet and swallowing hard. Riley watched her, awkwardly waiting until she looked up again, all traces of discomfort cleverly masked. "I…er…I told her she could."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Look, I appreciate you…um…letting me know," said Ella, "but I really should be –"

"Don't tell anyone else."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't tell anyone else," Riley repeated.

"I heard you. I wasn't exactly planning on it."

"Yeah, but…" Riley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to best phrase the message she wanted to get across. "Look, the urge to tell the truth can be overpowering. You're...I know you probably think I don't know you very well, and I don't, but I've spent enough time with you over the last four years to realise that you're the kind of person who's honest. You're blunt. And maybe you don't think you'll tell anyone at the moment, but as you come to terms with it…with what your aunt did and who she is….I don't know, you might think that other people won't mind so much." She paused. "You're lucky, you know. People are never going to automatically associate you with…with the Death Eaters unless you make them. It's something you can hide. So…I guess what I'm trying to say is hide it. People can't know. It'll…it'll change the way they see you."

The Ravenclaw stared at her. There was an awkward silence between the two girls, Ella clearly processing, and Riley uncertain of how to proceed. The silence made Riley uncomfortable. She wasn't good with people. She didn't know if she'd said the right thing, or if she should have said anything at all.

She shouldn't have said anything.

She'd done it wrong.

"I have to go," she mumbled. Without waiting to see how the other responded, she turned, and left the corridor.

She didn't see Ella Anderson's face crumple, her mask of nonchalance discarded. She didn't see her turn to the wall and sink her fingers into the ridges between the red bricks, as if holding on for dear life.

She didn't see any of it, but two other people did.

The first was Leonardo Torricelli. Heading from Ravenclaw tower to the library, he caught a flash of Ella's robes and, curious, peeked around the corner to see who was there.

Surprised: "Ella?"

Although she hadn't spoken to him in weeks, she recognised his voice almost immediately. Instead of looking up, she buried her face further into the soft material of her scarf. Her voice was barely audible. "Go away."

"Ella," his voice softened and he kneeled down, reaching out to place a hand gingerly on her knee.

"Leave me alone."

"But –"

"Please."

She heard him sigh and felt his fingers drop from her body. A wave of cold air overwhelmed her body as he stepped away, and she listened to his footsteps fade away until she could no longer hear them.

She didn't want him. She didn't want to explain what was going on, or how she was feeling, because she knew instinctively that he wouldn't understand. Leonardo was great, but at the same time… there was something about him that wasn't quite right. It was as if a fence existed between them: she could see him through the posts, she could reach out and touch him, but a barrier existed all the same. Christmas had thrown it into focus, but it had taken her a while to realise it.

"Ella?" said a male voice suddenly, surprising her for she hadn't realised she had company. She automatically opened her mouth to tell Leonardo to leave, when she realised that the voice was different – higher-pitched, gentler. She recognised it almost immediately. The words dissolved in her throat and instead of protesting, she let out a muffled, choking sob.

The boy knelt down so he was sitting next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. She leaned into him, her knees to her chest, clutching her scarf to her mouth. He was warm and familiar – his skin was soft, he smelled like pine cones and soap suds, and she knew from years of experience that he would understand. She didn't have to explain.

"I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I…I don't know what to do, Alfie. I just don't know what to do."

"It's going to be okay," he whispered into her hair.

"It's not."

"It is," he repeated firmly. "We're going to get through this, Ella. Together."

She almost believed him.

.oOo.

IX: Meanwhile…

Application to the Committee of Prisoner Oversight regarding High Security Prisoner Visitation

Applicant: Tabitha Margaret James

Department: Auror Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Please state the name of the prisoner you wish to visit: Mandira Tiwari

Reason for visitation: On-going investigation. Nature: classified. Contact Head Auror Robards for further information.

Decision [please leave blank, for official use only]:

The committee has reviewed this application and has contacted Head Auror Robards. Auror James is deemed to have insufficient evidence regarding the usefulness of Mandira Tiwari to this investigation. The Committee suggests (pursuant to Wizengamot Law 7859, Section B, Amendment 6) in the absence of convincing evidence, the risks of visiting a high security prisoner outweigh the benefits.

Visitation rights are hereby denied.

- Hon. N. Shafiq, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Head of the Committee of Prisoner Oversight

---

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and once again, apologies for the wait! A lot has happened in my life since the last update - in a week, I'm going to be graduating! From university! Your gal is going to have an actual real life degree! What even!

Back to the fanfiction...

Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews and your lovely messages on my blog (sincerelynymph)! I think I've replied to all of them - to Guest who asked about character ages - I changed ages between Escapades and TLC so they're not exactly the same. Bella, Macey, Laura etc. were made younger so they were (a) still around and I could write + complete their intended storylines, and (b) Bella and Alfie could have a somewhat normal interaction once in a while (because I am a big fan of that dynamic).

This chapter became so long that I actually had to cut scenes out and move them to the next chapter (hence the startling lack of Tabitha). In the next chapter, however, you will see the following: a call to arms, our fave aurors back/still at it, Ella/Leo (Ellanardo? Lella? Do they even deserve to have a ship name?), and the start of something new...in more ways than one.

As always, around on sincerelynymph and here if you've got questions/comments. See you guys soon!