much appreciation to everyone who takes the time to read my first fic! For a little bit of background info, this takes place in about 2017 (around the same time as the Deathly Hallows epilogue). I have created several new characters of my own for this fic, but will also be using as many of JKR's wonderful characters as I can. As mentioned in the description, this will be a story in 3 parts; I plan on grouping two or three years of the protagonists' time at Hogwarts into each "book". This is the first book. Hoping you all enjoy and let me know what you think in the reviews - positives, negatives, everything!

Harry Potter was never late to meetings. He preferred to arrive early, so as to organize any documents of interest and to prepare his opinion on any matters at hand. Today was no different. It was 9:45 in the morning, and he was scheduled to meet his top Aurors at exactly 10 o'clock. He stood in front of the large window in his office, which overlooked the entire Auror office block.

Harry watched Aurors come and go through heavy wooden doors at the end of the corridor as he mulled over the reading he had done before today's meeting. He was deeply troubled by the issues which had recently been brought to his attention. A slightly fanatical group of witches and wizards had organized a civil rights gang of sorts in protest of the previous unfair treatment of half-blood and muggle-born magical folk. As a close friend of Hermione Granger-Weasley's, Harry was accustomed to equality groups such as these, and would normally have no qualms with allowing them to exist, himself a firm advocate for equal rights among all witches and wizards regardless of their blood status. However, there was something off about the way this group operated, and he didn't like it, he thought to himself as he observed three wizards dashing into one of the offices below, presumably to take care of the miniature lightning storm that had suddenly started inside it. There were suspicious incidents that had potential links to this group, although none of his Aurors had been able to acquire definite proof of a connection. Hopefully today's meeting would shed some light on these incidents and whose fault they were.

A knock sounded from the door and he said "Come in" over his shoulder. He checked his watch; it was only 9:51. Nine minutes until the start of the meeting. He knew it was Ron Weasley joining him at his window without taking his eyes off the spectacle below; the wizards were apparently having some issues with the miniature storm, and several witches fled the office protectively clutching files and books to keep them dry. Ron usually showed up five minutes early to chat about more casual matters with Harry. Though they did not see each other as often as they once had due to work and family matters, the two remained close friends and were able to interact almost daily thanks to their close professional proximity.

Ron snickered as they watched the wizards walk out of the problematic office, their robes sopping wet and their expressions clearly irritated. "I could've solved that in about two seconds, remember when I had to fix up Yaxley's office during the war?"

"Yeah, although I'm sure he would've preferred a raining office to letting the Boy Who Lived slip away," Harry replied, and they shared a quick laugh before Ron's face turned uncharacteristically serious.

"I dunno about this Evander bloke," Ron said, bringing Harry's concerns back to the forefront of his mind. "His followers seem a little crazy sometimes, but some of the other Aurors have talked to him in person and apparently he's not too bad. A little intense maybe, but he's supposed to be pretty approachable and fair. Do you really think he could have something to do with what's been going on lately?"

"Not sure," responded Harry truthfully. "I've read about him in the papers but never spoken to him, myself. From what you say and from the things I've read, I really don't think he would be capable of something like what happened to the Selwyns."

His hair stood up on the back of his neck as he thought about said incident: the Selwyns, one of the few remaining pureblood wizarding families, had been robbed of family heirlooms multiple times over the past month in spite of the many layers of magical protection that had been placed upon their manor. Finally, two days ago, the entire family—including its patriarch, Oliver Selwyn, whose brother had fought for the Death Eaters in the Second Wizarding war—had been tortured into insanity, meeting a fate not unlike that of Neville Longbottom's parents. The only member of the family who remained unharmed was Oliver's youngest daughter, Rhea Selwyn, who had married another pureblood named Octavian Delphine and as a result did not live with the rest of her family at their manor.

No, based on the alleged personality of Priam Evander—the leader of the equalist group that so concerned Harry—it seemed highly unlikely that his group, calling themselves the "Silverbloods," was to blame for the demise of the Selwyn family. And yet, something felt wrong to Harry. Other remaining pureblood families had been outraged at the attack, claiming that the Silverbloods' political goals were in line with this kind of behavior: the group took a radical stance on purebloods and some of its members even went so far as to say that pureblood families should be punished for their historical mistreatment of "lower class" witches and wizards. Evander had, of course, fervently denied any involvement in the attacks and publicly established his firm belief in equality and justice, not revenge. He had so far been quite cooperative with Harry's Aurors regarding any of their investigations into the incident, giving Harry little reason to doubt the sincerity behind his public statement. Still…

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late," a breathless Hermione said as she entered the office behind Harry and Ron. They turned to face her as she approached them, brushing a loose curl out of her face and dropping a heavy load of paperwork onto Harry's desk with a loud thud. "I had so many administrative things to take care of this morning, they're all due next week of course but I like to finish my work ahead of time—"

"Blimey Hermione, take a breath," Ron cut in. "There's still six minutes until everyone else gets here, and you know how long these always take to get started—sorry Harry—I reckon we won't even begin the discussion until at least ten past—"

"Yes, yes, but," Hermione replied in a slightly singsong voice, "as you should know, Ronald, early is on time, on time is late, and—"

"Late is unacceptable," Harry and Ron finished in unison, shooting one another a wide grin. The two of them, particularly Ron, found Hermione's frequent use of muggle phrases and proverbs quite predictable but amusing. Hermione smiled as Ron leaned over to bestow a quick kiss on her cheek.

To no one's surprise, Hermione made for an excellent Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement. After her appointment to deputy, Harry had become one of the most well-informed and efficient Head Aurors in the history of the department. Hermione somehow managed to answer Harry's every question before he had even asked it, and always provided him with quick, accurate facts about issues of interest. Not only was she well-informed, but took a much more involved and hands-on approach throughout the department, in contrast to the removed style of her predecessors. Once Kingsley Shacklebolt retired from his position as Minister of Magic—which would undoubtedly be soon, based on Kingsley's ever-increasing age—Harry knew exactly whose candidacy he would be supporting next.

"Anyway, I had some documents I had to sign, we've got that group of Magical Games and Sports interns who thought it would be funny to prank the Accidents and Catastrophes staff by putting Puking Pastilles in their morning coffee—it's a mess, honestly, Susan is still cleaning the corridors—so I had to look over some formal punishments. Ron, really, you've got to make sure George keeps an eye on who he's selling his products to, that's the third time this month something like this has happened—"

"Come off it, that's a bloody brilliant payback for what the Accidents and Catastrophes guys did to the interns last week," Ron replied, roaring with laughter. "And besides, as if George would ever let me try to tell him how to do business."

Hermione shot him a reproachful look, but before she could respond Harry's office door swung open once more, revealing a pair of very serious looking Aurors standing in the doorway. It must be 10 o'clock, Harry realized.

"Come on in," he said, waving them inside and quickly shutting the door behind them. Ron ensured that the shades were drawn over Harry's windows, and Hermione cast a muffling charm on the room to prevent prying ears from listening in on the meeting.

Harry's office, even with the shades drawn, was bright and cheerful, with odds and ends from his time in the wizarding world on display and photos of his friends and family hung on the walls and placed on his desk. Various books lined the shelves on the walls, although it was evident from the thin layer of dust atop them that he was not a voracious reader like Hermione. Scattered across his desktop lay a variety of newspapers, manila folders, and notes. At the forefront of his desk sat a framed photograph of Ginny, flushed with happiness, holding their daughter Lily in her arms as James and Albus, their two sons, chased each other round the backdrop of the picture. Next to the photo was a small plastic model of a snowy owl on a perch; every so often it could be seen flapping its wings or fixating its bright yellow eyes on his visitors.

Harry took a seat at his desk and cleared his throat as the Aurors seated themselves in front of him and Hermione, standing behind his chair as she always did during these meetings, drawing out a piece of parchment and a Quick Quotes Quill with a flourish of her wand. Hermione, despite the fact that she outranked Harry, typically let him take the lead in meetings with his Aurors and only commented to answer questions and approve or reject suggested solutions.

"Right, let's get started," Harry said briskly. The quill hovered impatiently above the parchment, as if eager to begin the discussion. "Where are we with the Selwyn investigation? Any leads?"

"Nothing concrete," responded a young, dark-skinned wizard to Ron's left. Lee Lively, several years Harry's junior, was rather new to the Aurors' ranks, but was undoubtedly one of their most hardworking and courageous, albeit sometimes headstrong members. A Gryffindor like Harry, Ron and Hermione, Lee was the oldest of six siblings, a family whose size was rivaled only by the Weasleys. He continued, "I'm not sure how much longer we can go on interrogating Evander and raiding his workplaces without proper justification…"

"The rest of the Silverbloods are starting to get agitated over this," added a brunette witch who sat on Ron's other side. "There was quite a loud rally in Diagon Alley the other day, they said we are unfairly targeting Evander because we don't like his message and want him silenced."

"Thanks for that, Katie, I think I missed that in the news," Harry said. Katie Bell, Harry's former Quidditch teammate, had joined the Auror department not long before Harry and Ron, possibly inspired as a result of her near-death experience while they were still at Hogwarts. "Well, it looks like we're pretty much out of ideas on this one…"

"Have we thought about maybe pursuing a different target?" came Hermione's voice from over his shoulder. Harry turned in his chair to look at her as she spoke. "Maybe one that's a little less obvious?"

"Like who?" said Ron.

"Priam Evander is the oldest of three siblings," Hermione said slowly, as though still developing and considering her new idea in her mind. "He's got a younger brother and sister. The brother, he's a member of the Silverbloods, isn't he?"

Harry started to catch on to Hermione's train of thought. While his activities and opinions were lower profile than those of his elder brother's, Cato Evander was indeed a Silverblood as well. From what Harry had seen, heard and read, Cato tended to be more extreme and volatile when it came to the matter of equal rights; he had been known to incite riots and increase the general feeling of animosity among the wizarding community. He could be a dangerous opponent, if anything because he seemed to be able to incite powerful emotions from his audience more than most people Harry had ever encountered.

"What do we have on Cato Evander?" Harry asked of his Aurors.

"We know Cato originally wanted to be the public face of the Silverbloods," answered Katie. "Priam was elected instead because he is apparently a more agreeable and likeable figure."

"We've also noticed that some of Cato's closer followers have had closed-door meetings with some Ministry officials, after which the officials tend to move in support of the Silverbloods," Lee added. "We think they've been using below-the-belt techniques to persuade politicians to favor their cause."

"They're a slippery lot, though, them," Ron said as the quill scribbled furiously on the parchment. "Again, we haven't been able to find concrete proof of foul play on Cato's part."

"So if there's nothing concrete, maybe we need to look elsewhere," Harry said. "I mean, we can't keep searching for a connection that just doesn't exist."

"How harmless can the Silverbloods be, anyway?" Ron questioned. "They just want equality, right? A group like that might've been helpful a few years back, with the Death Eaters running around purging all the muggle-borns they could find—"

"That's not all they want, mate," Lee responded darkly. "I've just heard reports this morning. They want to eradicate purebloods from society. Said that magic folk would be better off without their kind, that they don't deserve to be a part of our world after all they've done to the rest of us."

"Eradicate?" Ron said incredulously. "Like… exile?"

"Yeah, or massacre," Lee said. "If that's what it comes down to." He paused, then added, "That includes your family too, y'know. This is serious."

Ron looked simultaneously uncomfortable and alarmed at that comment. There was a moment of utter quiet in the office, with even the quill suspended in midair above its parchment.

"Then we've got to make sure that doesn't happen," Harry said firmly, offering a comforting nod to Ron as he spoke. "Keep looking into them, but shift your focus to Cato. A group with goals that extreme must be up to something."

Charlotte Grant was always late, especially when her mother was involved in her plans. There were few things she enjoyed more in life than spiting her mother. Today was no different.

The night before, she had made plans with her mother to leave the house no later than 9 o'clock in the morning. The start of the Hogwarts school year was fast approaching, and she needed to purchase supplies and clothes in preparation for her first term. However, a well-known fact among the Grant household was that Charlotte was not a morning person. She had been rudely awakened by her mother at 8:30 after forgetting to set an alarm, and only grudgingly risen out of bed after a second bout of shouts from down the stairs.

"Charlotte, lovely, I have to be home before dark, and it could take longer than we expect to get those new robes fitted," her mother called up the stairs. "Please hurry up so we can get started."

She shuffled around her room in the dark, grumbling under her breath. She hated her full name. Charlotte—how pretentious. Even more pretentious was the fact that Charlotte was her mother's name as well. She preferred to go by Charlie, but of course her mother never called her by the nickname because it was a "boy's name" which was "unbecoming of a young lady." And because the full name annoyed Charlie to no end, no doubt. Just as Charlie enjoyed tormenting her mother, Mrs. Grant also made it a point to irk her daughter with talk of "proper ladylike behavior" and "elegance". The two rarely saw eye to eye. Still, they loved each other when it came down to it; it was just a game they played each day.

Charlie moved towards the wall, tripping over something soft on her way. She fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. She had stumbled over one of her pillows; she must have tossed it off the bed in the night. Chucking the pillow back onto her bed, she approached her closet to look for an outfit that might win her mother's approval, stepping over various possessions that littered the floor on the way. It was just a casual trip to Diagon Alley, nothing fancy; she rummaged through her clothes until she found a short-sleeved blouse, then pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers to go with it. As she closed her closet doors and moved to leave the room, Charlie passed by the mirror on her wall beside the dresser. Her hazel eyes were still bleary from sleep, and her light brown hair was messy. She gathered her hair into a ponytail, rubbed her eyes, and yawned as she left the room, satisfied.

The rest of the house offered a stark contrast to the eleven-year-old's room; it was as clean and nicely decorated as Charlie's room was messy and unorganized. Mrs. Grant certainly had an eye for interior decorating. Charlie thundered down the stairs from her room, which was on the top floor, to the kitchen on the ground floor. Her mother had kindly made breakfast, but the toast and bacon were only lukewarm as Charlie had not woken up early enough. Still, she was starving, and grabbed the food from the counter. "Ready!" she yelled around a mouthful of toast.

She left the kitchen and entered the living room across the hall, where her mother was waiting for her. As antagonistic as the two were towards each other, Charlie was actually a spitting image of her mother, though the latter was of course more graceful and mature; she often could barely tell the difference herself between a photo of her and a photo of her mother at a young age. Mrs. Grant stood in front of the fireplace, examining the contents of her purse to ensure she had everything they would need that day. Her straight hair fell in her tanned face as she peered down, with lovely dark blue robes flowing down her willowy figure. Charlie grabbed her own black traveling cloak from a hook in the doorway and fastened it around her neck. Charlotte looked up as her daughter emerged from the hallway.

"Alright, time to go," Charlotte said, closing her purse and beckoning Charlie to stand in the fireplace. Growing up in a magical family, Charlie was familiar with what was about to happen; this was how her older brother, Logan, often got to Diagon Alley as well. She had hoped Logan, a fifth-year at Hogwarts, would accompany them today, but he had already gotten everything on his list last week and was busy today anyway. Charlie and her brother had the occasional sibling's quarrel, but they usually got along quite well.

Charlotte handed the girl a fistful of ash and waited expectantly for her to disappear into the green flames. Charlie threw the ashes at her feet, shouting "Diagon Alley!" and feeling her body twisting and turning until she finally shot out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, a tavern that basically served as the entrance to Diagon Alley. She got to her feet, brushing the soot off her clothes and shaking it out of her hair, and once her mother had arrived as well they exited through the tavern's back door.

Charlie had never been to Diagon Alley herself, so she had no idea what to expect; her father, Darien, had wanted the experience to be a surprise when she first went to fetch her school supplies. He was working today so could not join the pair on their outing. Darien Grant worked every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries; he had worked there long enough, and been efficient enough at his work, that he was able to take half of every week off and still earn a handsome salary. He was a calming and good-natured presence both at home and in the workplace.

Charlotte extracted her wand from inside her robes and began tapping the brick wall outside in an oddly specific manner. Eventually, she stowed her wand back inside her robes, and Charlie gasped as the bricks shifted, rumbling, to form an archway entrance into Diagon Alley.

The cobblestone street was lined on either side with colorful shops and restaurants, and all sorts of witches and wizards strolled about, chatting with their companions and stopping to peer through the windows of stores. Many families were about, most likely there to purchase the necessary equipment for their children before they went off to Hogwarts for the year. Charlie stayed close beside her mother as she strode off towards the end of the road.

"Where are we going first?" Charlie wondered aloud as they passed a large family gawking at brooms through a glass window. Each sibling looked like a carbon copy of the others. Charlie watched one of the older brothers shoulder his younger sister out of the way, and snorted in amusement as the sister shoved him into his siblings in retaliation.

"Madam Malkin's," Mrs. Grant replied, "to get your robes fitted. And then we'll be heading to Flourish and Blotts, of course, so we can get your books for this year—I've got your list in my bag—"

"What about my wand?" Charlie demanded. Getting a wand was perhaps the most anticipated moment of every young witch and wizard's life.

"Saving the best for last," Charlotte soothed, "of course I won't be forgetting it." She rolled her hazel eyes. "It isn't as if you haven't been going on about it for months now!"

Charlie pouted, but she supposed it was a more exciting end to the day than simply buying a bunch of textbooks and clothes.

After a few minutes of walking, the two witches arrived at Madam Malkin's; a bell rang pleasantly as they entered the store. "Oh, Mrs. Grant, I'll be right with you! Just a moment!" came a voice from the back of the store.

Charlie knew her mother was a priority customer—not just here, but everywhere. Charlotte Grant was, after all, a niece of Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, and therefore also a descendant of one of the old pureblood family lines. Furthermore, she had married one of the most influential wizards in the field of magical medicine. All of these attributes, added to the fact that she was admittedly charming and attractive, made her quite a popular figure among magical folk.

"Hello, hello!" Madam Malkin hurried out from the back with heaps of cloth in her arms. "Mrs. Grant, so lovely to see you again, is it already time for your daughter to start at Hogwarts?" She dumped the fabric onto a table near the store entrance. "May I say, what a striking resemblance!"

Charlie rolled her eyes, but her mother just smiled. "Thank you," she said. "Yes, Charlotte here"—Charlie grumbled at the use of the name—"will be heading out in less than a week, so I figured it was about time to get her school things."

"Lovely," Madam Malkin said again. "Let's take care of her then, shall we? If you will, young Charlotte, please step over here so I can get your measurements—"

"I go by Charlie," the girl interrupted as she approached the shopkeeper. Mrs. Grant made an irritated noise, but Madam Malkin, who was probably quite accustomed to impolite children in her store, just smiled, unaffected, and flourished her wand as she examined Charlie with a magical tape measure.

"I remember your brother Logan, he was in here for the first time only a few years ago, you two are rather similar it seems, but from what I've seen he's grown very much in the last few years," the woman said in a matter-of-fact tone. She appeared satisfied with the results of her measurements and hurried over to the pile of robes she had left on the table. Before Charlie could come up with a reply she heard the bells ring again and turned to see who had entered.

The door swung closed behind a family of three. The father had a pointed face, with pale blonde hair and a slightly receding hairline. Next to him stood the mother, whose dark hair cascaded in elegant waves past her shoulders. The boy who must have been their son stood at the forefront of the group. He looked very similar to his father, though his features were slightly less pointed and his hair messier.

Madam Malkin was instantly flustered. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I wasn't expecting you until noon—forgive me, I've just got to take care of this young lady here and—"

"Try not to keep us waiting too long, we're on a tight schedule," the father replied coolly, directing his son with a hand on his shoulder to stand off to the side as they waited. Charlie locked eyes with the boy, who looked to be her age. There was a certain haughtiness about him to which she took an instant dislike.

"Why are they being served before us, Dad, I thought we were priority—" the boy started.

"Scorpius, what did I tell you about being patient?" his mother cut in before he could finish. Scorpius went silent. Charlie made a face at him, and he glared at her in response.

After a few minutes of awkward silence in the store, Charlie's robes had been completed, and her mother whisked her out of the store without another word to the Malfoys. Charlie stuck out her tongue at Scorpius, who in turn stuck out his foot as she walked past. She stumbled out the door after her mother.

Charlotte walked with a certain irritation in her step after leaving the robe shop, which was to be expected after a run-in with the Malfoys. Though both her mother's family and the Malfoys were very old, very pure wizarding families, the similarities pretty much stopped there. The Shacklebolts were known for their fairness and courage, while the Malfoys had earned a reputation from their affluence and all the conceit that came along with it. Charlie had never met Scorpius before, but she doubted he could be much different from his predecessors.

When they walked into Flourish and Blotts, Charlie couldn't bite back the sigh as she saw the endless line of people waiting to check out. "Why don't you go to Ollivander's, you'll enjoy that more than buying a bunch of books anyway," her mother said with a resigned look on her face. "Go on, I'll meet you outside the book shop in a bit."

Charlie practically sprinted outside and around the corner to Ollivander's, but screeched to a halt when she saw who was blocking the door. It was Scorpius again; his parents must have done the same thing as Charlie's mom, because they were out of sight. Instead, he was facing off with a much shorter but very defiant looking girl, probably about their age. The girl's hair, curly and frizzy, stuck out at odd angles from her head, and her caramel skin stood in a stark contrast to Scorpius, pale and neat and blonde. A redheaded girl with lots of freckles stood meekly behind the brunette.

"…thought I told you to leave me alone?" Scorpius was saying as Charlie approached the scene cautiously. The girl across from him huffed angrily.

"You don't own the entire city of London, you great prat, and where else do you expect me to get a wand?" she snapped, stomping her foot to emphasize her point. "Phoebe was here first, just let her through and wait your turn like everyone else!" She indicated the redhead behind her with an impatient jerk of her head, who had started to edge around the pair towards the door.

"Just because your brother is a big shot at the ministry now doesn't mean you get to tell everyone what to do—"

"I'm not, I'm not the one who even mentioned my brother so leave him out of this, but you have a point, he is a big shot because he's a better wizard then you'll ever be—"

"So typical, Lively, your entire family's always thought they were better than everyone else, maybe if your father wasn't put in Azkaban right with all the Death Eaters then people would actually fall for the act—"

Scorpius seemed to have hit a nerve there; the girl let out an angry yell and threw herself on him, hitting him with curled fists and emitting a stream of unusual phrases that would have made any normal eleven-year-old turn pink with embarrassment.

"You-don't-know-anything-about-my-father-Malfoy-you-stupid-little—"

"Oi! What's going on here?"

The girl was dragged off Scorpius by two older, identical boys. Charlie realized with a start that they had been the family she had seen staring at the broomsticks when she'd first arrived. All three siblings had the same stormy gray eyes and brown skin, but the girl's hair was a few shades lighter than her brothers'. She yanked her arms away from her brothers' grasp, brushing her hair out of her face and panting, but made no move to attack Scorpius again, only scowled at him from a distance.

"Stupid Malfoy talking about Dad," she muttered.

"Come on now, you're lucky we caught you two before Lars did, can you imagine what he would've said," remarked the brother on the left, who was slightly shorter.

"Yeah, that would not have been a pretty sight," said the other.

"Whatever," she growled. She had gotten dirt on her hands and knees and scratched up her elbow, but instead of cleaning herself up marched straight into Ollivander's without a look back.

"Probably best if you and her weren't in there together with a bunch of magical objects. Who knows what would go wrong," the shorter twin said stiffly to Scorpius. "Get a move on and leave our sister alone."

Scorpius looked as if he wanted to argue, but after realizing the two brothers were much older and bigger than him just sighed and hurried away towards Flourish and Blotts. As he passed Charlie, he sent a glare in her direction. "What are you looking at?"

Charlie ignored him and approached the store tentatively. When the brothers—who seemed to be acting almost like guard dogs—merely shrugged as she walked by, she took that as a sign that they had no problem with her going inside.

The interior of the shop could not have been more different from the rest of Diagon Alley. It was quiet, dark, and musty. It looked to Charlie as if the rows of shelves were endless, and each shelf had piled upon it countless boxes of all different sizes and colors.

She heard voices from the left and looked over to see the redhead from before handing a wizened old man several coins. "Thank you, sir," she said in a slightly high-pitched voice. "I appreciate it!" Charlie rolled her eyes. These were the types of manners her mother always wished she possessed.

The redhead, whose name, as the darker girl had mentioned, must be Phoebe, stepped aside to allow the other girl an audience with the wandmaker.

"Hello sir, my name is Leona, I am also here to get a wand," the girl stated loudly, seemingly ignorant of her disheveled appearance.

"Yes, of course, just let me think for a moment… Hmm… yes, those will do nicely, I think… I shall go fetch a few boxes from the back and you may try them out." Ollivander left his spot behind the counter to go and find some potential wands.

"Hi," Charlie said once he had disappeared into the maze of shelves. Leona and Phoebe both whirled around, not having realized someone else had entered the shop. "I'm Charlie Grant, who are you two?"

"Leona Lively," the loud girl replied almost instantly. "If you were outside a minute ago you probably also saw my brothers, Liam and Landon. They're fifth years already. Both Hufflepuff, like my parents." She puffed her chest out a little as if in a show of pride. Charlie's mother had always told her that Hufflepuff was for the leftovers of the other three houses, but of course that wasn't something she wanted to share after witnessing the fight that had taken place outside. Charlie was hoping for Ravenclaw, personally; her family, at least on her dad's side, had been Ravenclaws for centuries.

"Phoebe McKenzie," the redhead piped up, almost like an afterthought. "Me and Leona are both first years. Gonna be, anyways." She seemed shy, but was unusually pretty, especially for their age. Her flaming red hair fell in waves just past her collarbone, and her freckles brought out her pale green eyes.

"Me too," Charlie said. Before she could continue Ollivander had returned clutching three dusty old boxes. He blew the dust off the top one and passed it to Leona.

"Try this," he instructed.

She opened the box and lifted the wand out, awestruck as she held it in her hand. Nothing happened for a moment, until the inkwell on the counter exploded all over Ollivander's robes.

"Apparently not," he said mildly, as if this sort of thing happened quite often. Leona tried out the next two wands to no avail; about ten minutes later, there was a stack of eight boxes atop the counter.

"You're certainly proving to be my toughest customer in ages," Ollivander commented as he scrubbed ink stains off the walls. With Leona's most recent attempt, the ink from the previously destroyed inkwell had decided to write offensive words along the walls. He waved his wand, sending the packaged wands back to their respective shelves.

Suddenly it looked as though he had an idea. "Ah yes, perhaps… but I've been saving that one for years now… but this is indeed a special case…" He kneeled to extract a wooden box from below the counter, which he then slid over to his troublesome customer and waited expectantly.

"11 inches, aspen and dragon heartstring," he said as she opened the box to examine its contents. "Simply unyielding."

As soon as she had lifted the wand, the dust cleared from various surfaces around the room, the lamps brightened, and a light breeze blew around the customers' feet. Charlie had never seen anyone get a wand before, but something told her Leona had finally found the right one.

"Very good," Ollivander remarked. "Very good."

He exchanged the box for money with Leona before turning his pale gaze upon Charlie. "And you, my dear?"

"Yes, I also—"

"Oh, I know just the one, do not move," Ollivander cut in, strolling into the back of the store without awaiting her response. She adopted an affronted expression; normally only her mother interrupted her so blatantly.

He was back almost in the blink of an eye. "Take it," he said. "This wand is 13 inches, ebony and unicorn hair, and it is quite inflexible."

Charlie was even more annoyed that the wandmaker had immediately decided she was "inflexible," but nevertheless took the box from his grasp and removed the wand from inside. She felt her clothes and hair fluttering around her, and multiple candles around the room suddenly came alight.

"That was fast," she mumbled, almost disappointed, hoping the speed with which he had found her a wand was not related to her skill as a witch.

"Yes, very different from the young witch before you, she seems quite strong," Ollivander said airily, doing absolutely nothing to soothe Charlie's concern. Irritated, she dropped the required money on his counter and stalked away towards the door.

"All set, then?" asked the twins as the three girls exited the building. "Come on, Leona, mum will be waiting for us. She said to meet her back at the Leaky Cauldron, she fancied a drink."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie, I'll see you on the train soon, right?" Leona waved at the other two and plodded off after her brothers. Phoebe joined Charlie as she returned to the bookstore, where her mother was surely impatiently waiting.

"So… was Scorpius bullying you back there?" blurted Charlie, who had never been particularly good at small talk.

A red flush crept into Phoebe's cheeks. "Not really," she answered. "He didn't start being rude until Leona came along."

"Why?"

"Their families live near each other, and so they've grown up in close proximity, but never really gotten along because—well because they're so different, I guess," said Phoebe. "And their families are very different too. The Malfoys, well I'm sure you know about the Malfoys, they're rich and proper and all that; the Livelys are more friendly and outgoing and down-to-earth, although Scorpius wasn't entirely off about the holier-than-thou attitude that they might seem to have at times."

Charlie was content to listen as Phoebe launched into the families' relationship. The redhead had seemed shy at first, but once she got going she could really talk, and while she could be a spitfire herself, Charlie did not mind listening to other people talk her ear off.

"Anyway, Leona's dad—well, she doesn't talk about it much, but he was accused of Death Eater activities after the war ended and he got sent to Azkaban for it. Scorpius' grandfather, Lucius, was a Death Eater at one point himself, but apparently he was pardoned for some reason, and I guess Leona and her family's been really bitter about that. Leona's normally very good natured and fun, though, and I've seen her and Scorpius get on quite well… she just likes to find reasons to fight, especially when she's agitated… must have been something wrong today…"

Finally they had arrived at Flourish and Blotts. Phoebe left to go find her parents, and Charlie found her mother at the checkout counter with a large collection of books in her arms.

"Alright, now that's done, we should go ahead and get the rest of your school supplies," Charlotte said. "Not much more to be done now."

They were, in fact, done soon after, and without any more unfortunate run-ins with the Malfoys, it was time to head home.

The days could not have passed any slower, but at last the time had come for Charlie to head to Kings Cross Station and board the Hogwarts Express for the first time. This time, of course, her brother would be coming along, and her father as well. Her brother Logan had been chosen as a Prefect this year; she would have to find her own friends on the train. She hoped she would be able to find the combative girl, Leona, and the talkative one, Phoebe, before wandering around on the train alone.

Her parents followed them through the brick wall onto Platform 9 and ¾. As her mother hugged Logan goodbye, her father knelt down in front of her, hands on her shoulders and a twinkle in his eye.

"Don't get into too much trouble this year," he told her.

"I was planning on waiting at least until second year to get into trouble," she replied.

He smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Remember, you are a smart witch and you will excel at anything you put your mind to. Don't let anyone tell you differently." His smile faded a little, and his expression became a little sad. "And don't let anyone, students or teachers, judge you based on what your parents have… or haven't… done."

"What?" Charlie was a bit confused. What was he talking about?

The train spewed steam and shuddered to life. "No time," her father said, the smile restored to his face, though she thought she could detect a trace of sadness in it still. "We love you. Go ahead before the train leaves you!"

"Yeah, you wouldn't wanna be stuck with me another year," Charlie said lightheartedly, hugging him and then running off to board the train. Aside from a small knapsack on her shoulders, all of her belongings had been taken to the back of the train so that she would not have to worry about them. Before she got on board, Charlie heard someone calling her name off to the right. It was Leona and Phoebe. Breathing a sigh of relief, she hurried down the tracks to a door further away from her family.

"Hi," she said as she hopped atop the train and walked inside the door, waving goodbye to her parents as she entered the train.

"Want to look for a compartment with us?" Phoebe said brightly, apparently more outgoing than she had first been.

"Yeah, okay," Charlie answered. They weaved around other students and past compartments filled with kids. After a few minutes she realized that almost everywhere was full, and they'd probably have to sit with strangers if they wanted to sit anywhere at all.

Leona led the way and slid open a compartment door close to the middle of the train. "Hi," she said. "Can we sit in here? There's no room anywhere else."

"Sure," replied the boy sitting closest to the door. He slid down to the end of his seat by the window, and the boy sitting across from him did the same. Both of them were still in regular clothing. Leona sat next to the one who had spoken and Phoebe and Charlie filed in across from her.

It wasn't until she had gotten comfortable in her seat that Charlie realized the first boy looked vaguely familiar. He had messy black hair, which he occasionally ruffled up to make it even messier than it already was, and glasses covering his brown eyes. He sat with a kind of lazy confidence—or maybe it was arrogance, hard to tell at a first meeting—as he leaned against the window and checked out the newcomers.

"I'm James," he said after the girls had gotten settled. "James Potter. It's my third year here. This is Diego Delacruz, also third year." Understanding dawned on Charlie as she heard the name—the most famous surname perhaps in all of wizarding history. She must have seen pictures of his father in newspapers or something; they looked quite similar.

As Leona introduced herself, Charlie noticed that Diego had not taken his eyes off Leona since she'd led the way into the compartment. Ugh, she thought with a roll of her hazel eyes, aren't we too young for this stuff?

"I'm Phoebe McKenzie," said the redhead next, looking quite nervous. Charlie, on the other hand, could not care less about James' father's reputation.

"My name is Charlie Grant," she declared. "So, Harry Potter's kid? Is it hard living under your dad's shadow?"

"I've never been one for living in the shadows," James replied with a shrug and an air of—yes, definitely arrogance. He smirked. "Quite the opposite, I personally prefer the spotlight, in fact."

"Oh, shut it, you cocky twat," Diego snickered, finally turning his attention away from Leona. "You're gonna scare the firsties away from Hogwarts before they even get there."

"If the sight of your ugly mug didn't scare them away I doubt anything will," James shot back, and the two shared a laugh; Diego was truthfully very good looking, so no one in the compartment could ever take that comment seriously.

Ah, sarcasm—that was something Charlie could happily get behind.

The boys' laughter died down as two more people had paused outside of the door; a boy who strongly resembled a younger James, alongside someone who made Charlie's insides churn: Scorpius. The boy who must have been James' brother was holding multiple wizard candies, matching the candies that Scorpius had in his pocket. She hadn't realized Malfoys shared food, or anything for that matter.

"Oh, I see your brother is doing his community service for the year, sitting with them," Scorpius commented, his voice muffled through the glass doors. "C'mon, Albus, let's find somewhere else." He strode away, Albus following, giving James a halfhearted wave before he disappeared from view.

"Was that really your brother?" Leona asked scathingly. "Interesting choice in friends, he's got."

"It's only his first year, he'll learn," James said, though looking a slight bit more uncomfortable then before.

"So… Leona Lively, huh? You're Liam and Landon's little sister, right?" Diego said, clearly trying to move away from the subject of James' brother. "And Lars Lively, too, I suppose, you've got quite the family."

"Been studying up on her, have you?" Charlie raised an eyebrow. Leona and Phoebe laughed.

"It's hard not to know the name when Lars is a Prefect, good candidate for Head Boy next year, and all three of them are Quidditch stars," Diego protested.

"Yes, they're my brothers," Leona said with a shrug. "Don't expect me to hero-worship them like you do. They might seem all that from a distance, but when you've lived with them your whole life they're just as disgusting and moronic as every other—"

"Easy, you're talking to two disgusting and moronic boys right here," James interrupted, hands up in a halting motion. "Please, Lively, forgive us for our sins." He made a praying motion and bowed in mock respect. Phoebe laughed at the joke, maybe a little bit louder than it had warranted. Charlie gave her the side eye, but James leaned back in his seat, looking quite contented with himself.

"So, first time in the wizarding world for any of you three?" James asked.

"Not exactly," Phoebe responded. "I'm muggle-born, but I grew up near Leona's family, so I met her before I received my Hogwarts letter. She was so excited, maybe even more excited than me, I think I just didn't understand what was going on for a while."

"Yes, I had to spend weeks enlightening you about our world, you've come quite far, my apprentice," Leona quipped, reaching out to pat Phoebe on the head, who swatted away the gesture good-naturedly.

Charlie couldn't help but be jealous of the girls' easy friendship. She had grown up with few interactions outside her immediate family, and even the kids her age that she had been introduced to were of a similar breed to her mother: proper, neat, ladylike… boring. At least things were turning around now.

It seemed like only minutes before the train had arrived at its destination. Charlie swung her knapsack back over her shoulders as she stood, and James and Diego pulled their belongings down from the shelves overhead. Once they had disembarked from the train, it was time to part ways.

"Good luck at the Sorting Ceremony," Diego offered, mostly to Leona, though she pretty much just ignored him. He walked away looking only a little disappointed.

"Oh, he seems interested in you," Phoebe said to Leona as they walked away from the tracks, prodding her with her elbow.

"Who's that?" said a pair of familiar voices behind them. The girls turned to find Liam and Landon, accompanied by a lanky boy with messy brown hair and a lopsided grin.

"Did somebody say that a boy seems interested in Leona?" Landon said, pretending shock. "That won't do… we'll have to have a word with this kid…" The three laughed as they walked away.

"Disgusting and moronic," Leona repeated, rolling her eyes. "He only wants to talk to me because I have popular brothers."

"Being popular can't hurt," Charlie pointed out. "Anyway, we should catch up to the other first years. Don't want to miss our own Sorting Ceremony."

They scurried away from the scarlet train after the swarm of young witches and wizards, excited but nervous for the upcoming ceremony, which would be one of the most important nights of their lives.

Let me know what you think! :) thanks everyone for reading; next chapter is in the works