I stood in front of a tall, gold-framed mirror looking at a spitting image of myself, except I was wearing a wedding gown. There were arms wrapped around me, but I couldn't see who they belonged to. The mirror image of me beamed. She looked far more happy than I was certain I was capable of feeling. But instead of focusing on myself as I stared, my attention turned to the bloke who I had apparently married. I wished to Merlin that I could see who it was, and I desperately tried to unfog his image.

Why couldn't I see who it was?

I shot upright in my bed, startled by a sudden roll of thunder. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, "It was only a dream," I said.

I stumbled out of bed, already in quite the foul mood, and trudged to the loo. With the flick of my wand, the shower started, and I stripped myself of my pyjamas.

Feeling the hot water against my skin further cleared my clouded mind as I reflected on the dream. It wasn't new. It was one I frequently had, or at least frequently remembered. It was based off an experience I had in my fifth year at Hogwarts when Oliver and I had discovered the Mirror of Erised, which showed the heart's greatest desires. Oliver had seen himself winning the Quidditch Cup, I remembered, but I had seen an older self, with someone who made me feel truly happy and loved, because, as much as I refused to admit it back in those days, I was wholly jealous of Klaus. I still was.

At the time, I hadn't paid any mind to who I was married to. The image of his face was obstructed, but I figured that it was because I didn't fancy anyone in my fifth year.

I wondered what I would see now, if I had the chance to look in the mirror again. Surely, the image would be very much the same, because even I was enough of an adult to realise that I still wanted what my brother had. Perhaps now, though, I would be able to see who it was. Clancy, or... well, more than likely than not, him.

And that's when I realised that I was crying, and I couldn't help but to press my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall. I was certainly far more emotional, especially since Oliver and I broke up through post those four and a half years ago. Often, I found myself choking on tears at the most random of times, usually at the faintest thoughts of him, and I'd have to run and hide from the world. No one needed to know I was still as vulnerable as I was.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rue," I said, stepping out of the water and wrapping a warm towel around myself. I went back out into my room and changed into a pair of trousers and a green jumper, before going to the living room and sitting at my desk.

We were leaving for England in a day, and I already had my luggage packed. I should have been more excited to return to my home, but I wasn't. Not after the news Sean had shared the previous week. Why, of all the bloody teams, did we have to be fit up with Puddlemere United? Sean probably could have bribed the Chudley Canons for a lot less, but no. We were stuck learning Quidditch and about its history with the very team my ex-boyfriend played keeper for.

Attempting to redirect my thoughts, I looked down at my agenda. I was having dinner with Clancy at five o'clock, because we'd have to give Witch Weekly something to work with before I left for two months. And he just wanted to see me off and be sure I was "in a good mental state," or so he claimed. I thought about canceling on him when I heard a loud knock.

I wrenched open the door, curious as to who would be visiting so early in the morning. Before me stood a tall man with chocolate-coloured hair and hazel eyes, a broad smile on his face.

"Uncle Friedrich, what're you doing here?"

"Rue!" my Uncle boomed, pulling me into a hug. "I was just in the area and thought I'd stop by to see my favourite niece. Would you like to get some breakfast?"

I smiled, "Let me get my coat and umbrella."

We sat at some muggle breakfast joint in a booth tucked near the back, giving us a full view of the restaurant and other patrons. My uncle liked to play a little game he called "What's the muggle doing?", and, in order to properly play it, you had to be correctly situated.

"He's going to eat it, I think," he said in a low voice, taking a sip of his coffee.

I turned my attention to where he was looking. There was a little boy, perhaps two or three years old, in a high chair, and his mum wasn't paying him any mind. He'd gotten a hold of the sugar packet container and held one packet in his right hand and maybe six in his left.

However, instead of eating the packet like my uncle had thought he would, the boy turned in his seat and hurled it at a waitress' arse as she walked by. He squealed in delight before throwing all the other packets he held and reaching for more.

"Quite the arm for a tyke," I laughed.

"He'd be a fair chaser, that's for sure," my uncle smiled and nodded, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "Speaking of," he started, visibly perking up in his seat, "tell me about this 'Quidditch crash course' Sean's putting you lot in!"

I groaned, stabbing the prongs of my fork into the stack of pancakes on my plate. "He thinks it'd make for a great little spread in the booklet once we do our Quidditch broadcast. I think it's rubbish, since I know how to play the game quite well."

I took a sip of my coffee before continuing, "I think he's just looking for more photo opportunities, but I could be mistaken."

"Unlikely," Uncle Friedrich said.

"I know."

"What team, again?"

"Puddlemere United," I grumbled.

"Isn't that the team that Oliv-"

"Yeah, Uncle, it is."

"What're you going to do about that, then?"

"There's nothing I can do."

"Did you try to talk him out of it?" he asked, starting in on the hash and scanning the restaurant.

"I didn't just try, I literally begged him. Nothing. He said it's a 'done deal,' and that it's been paid for."

"Well, it is only a week," he said slowly, knowing he was treading on dangerous territory.

"A week in Hell. Brilliant."

He threw his head back and laughed, before returning to his game.

Arriving back at my flat, I saw a copy of Wizards at the foot of my door. I bent down to pick it up, noticing a small note on the front.

Looking good, though I wish you'd listened to me when I told you to watch what you say. But definitely one of your better interviews! Sean

I rolled my eyes before opening my door and going in. I dropped into my armchair and, after looking through the table of contents, flipped to the first page of their "Thirty Under 30" spread. There were the usual suspects: a smattering of Quidditch stars, rich Mummy and Daddy's kids, notable philanthropic humanitarians, medicinal researchers, and so on, before I finally turned to the two-page spread of me, Lara and Toni, not-so-cleverly titled "History, But Not the Way We Learned It In School".

It was a fairly good shot, with the three of us jumping in the air and laughing about something, though I couldn't remember what. I turned to the small block of text under "Rue Von Straussburg, 23, Dover, England" and skimmed it. I saw nothing wrong with my answers to the five questions they'd listed, contrary to Sean's note.

Was I single? "Yes, though that's not at all relevant, unless you're referring to the rubbish Witch Weekly recently published."

Did I find History boring in school? "Hell no, I always thought it was a fascinating subject, and at Hogwarts it was taught by a bloody ghost; how could that possibly be boring?"

If I could research any historical topic, what would it be? "You expect me to pick just one? Tosser."

How did it feel being known as 'the British woman who frequently has to be censored on air'? "F-ing brilliant, thanks."

What was I most looking forward to? "Going back home [to England for research] so I can have a decent cup of tea and not be asked to say 'British' things all the time."

All in all, decent answers, if you asked me.

Early the following morning, I met with Toni and Lara at the studios, all my luggage shrunk down and stored in my coat pocket.

"Ready?" Toni asked, smoothing over her clothing.

"Yep," Lara said chirpily.

"Yeah," I said quietly, a headache pounding against the inside of my skull.

Sean appraised us before starting his little farewell lecture, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I was focusing on making sure I hadn't forgotten anything, mentally going through a list of the things I had told Clancy to do when he stopped by my flat to make sure Sam Adams wasn't dead or anything, and worrying about what this trip would bring.

"Hey, Rue," Lara nudged me. I looked up, meeting her gaze before I noticed Sean and Toni looking at my strangely.

"I'm taking you guys to the portkey now," Sean said, disappearing through the door. We followed him into the small room.

"Oh, right," I said.

He presented us with a rather hideous hat.

"Alright, on the count of three," he said, looking down at his watch. "One, two-"

"Three!" Lara cried excitedly.

The three of us latched onto the hat, and I felt that familiar lurch as we began the short journey to England.

And there's chapter three. I'm going to try to post another chapter either later today or tomorrow, because you probably won't hear from me in a week otherwise since I'll be at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. Living the dream. As always, please be kind and leave me a wonderful, lovely review. Also, Jo Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, I just own that which you don't recognize from it. Yours.