A/N: Hi, not dead. Just very bad at sticking to one story haha. I've been in an Aquila mood recently and made enough progress further in the story to feel comfortable posting this, so here you go! Hope you enjoy!

Also, since I didn't make it clear before - FUCK JKR. I absolutely do NOT support that vile woman or her views. Trans women are women, period, end of story. I'm an agender/genderqueer lesbian myself and I love my trans brothers and sisters and I always will.

Her horrible views should not diminish the love you hold for this world and these characters if you still find comfort in them. I write for Aquila and my characters and the story they have to tell. This world is mine now, and she can kiss my ass xoxo

Scotland at the start of September made for mild afternoons and crisp evenings. The trees of the Forbidden Forest kept their luscious dark greens, but the brilliant reds, yellows, and browns across the lake often looked like a rippling fire when the breeze caught the leaves just right. The first Saturday of term might have been a day for relaxing with friends out on the lawn in front of the castle, but a stiff wind kept most students in the warmth of their common rooms.

Aquila was not one of those students. Despite the rouge of her cheeks and the ice seizing her lungs with every breath, she spent most of the day outside, exploring every inch of the Hogwarts grounds and ignoring the growing ache in her chest. What did it matter that her friends now delighted in her misery when she had discovered a massive beech tree on the edge of the lake perfect for climbing, and a beautiful cascading waterfall far away from the castle and all her worries? What were they to her compared to the giant squid living in the depths of the lake, who came to greet her with an enthusiastic splash as she skipped stones across the water's surface?

I don't need them, Aquila thought as she started throwing the stones for distance instead. I don't need anyone.

Well, except perhaps Arcas. But as he hadn't responded to her letter yet, she had chosen to reserve judgement on whether he could join her independent crusade against the world.

She picked up another rock, letting its weight pull down on her scrawny arm. Misky could join her, she decided. It was always good to have a house elf around, and she loved Misky. If no one else, she knew Misky would never let her down. The rock gave a great splash as it hit the water. So it would be her and Misky, then, and maybe Arcas. She was fine with that. The fewer people she had to worry about betraying her the way her friends had, the better.

The hardest part for Aquila was knowing that Draco wouldn't be on that small list. They'd been practically inseparable since before they could walk and talk. They'd always done everything together. After all those years they'd spent by each other's side, this was how he treated her?

Aquila imagined her git cousin's face floating on the surface of the water, took aim, and flung her rock as far as she could throw it. It sailed through the air and dropped through the top of Draco's invisible head with the biggest splash yet.

She had to embrace the anger raging like wildfire through her chest; she'd already cried enough that week.

"Oi, wha's the lake ever done to yeh?"

Aquila spun round to see Hagrid standing on the grass at the edge of the rocky beach. His bushy black mane was as wild as it had been that first night, but up closer like this, she could see his small, dark eyes glinting from behind the curtain of hair.

"Yeh might think o' bein' careful," he told her. "The creatures livin' in that lake won't thank yeh for disturbing their home."

Aquila nodded without a word. If he'd come just to tell her off, he'd done a right good job of bursting through her tenuously decent mood. She expected him to lumber off back to the castle, proud of himself for yelling at a stupid little first year.

But he didn't. He dithered for a moment. Then he said, "I've seen yeh out on the grounds all day. Yeh must be cold."

Again, Aquila said nothing. She wondered what he was playing at.

"Come 'ere," Hagrid said, beckoning her away from the water. "Let's get yeh warm, eh?"

It was Aquila's first instinct to turn up her nose at his offer and return to her exploration of the grounds. She didn't need anything from someone like him. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she shivered against a gusty breeze blowing off the lake. Perhaps she could go with him just this once, just to bring a little feeling back to her fingers. It was better than going back to the castle, at any rate.

So she carefully tiptoed over the rocky beach and followed Hagrid across the sloping lawn to a small wooden hut that stood next to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. As they approached, Aquila heard a dog's booming barks coming from inside.

"Don' mind Fang," Hagrid told her, one hand holding open the door, the other wrapped around the dog's neck. "He's harmless."

Once Hagrid had stepped inside and let the door slam shut, the massive black boarhound came bounding over to Aquila, slobbering down the front of her clothes. Her stomach rolled with disgust. Apart from the drool, though, he was actually a very sweet dog. Fang never took his eyes off her whilst she made herself as comfortable as she dared in a creaky chair at the round kitchen table.

Aquila wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from the house of the gamekeeper, but for its ham and pheasant hanging from the ceiling, it had a kind of rustic charm to it. Hagrid went to tend to a copper kettle that had been placed over a roaring fire in the corner of the room.

"Nothin' like a hot cuppa, eh?" he said as he poured her a large mug from the kettle, then poured one for himself. When he returned the kettle to the fire, he rummaged through the cupboards in the little kitchen. "Migh' have something to eat in here."

He pulled out a plate of large grey lumps he called rock cakes. Aquila hesitantly reached for one. It nearly cracked her front teeth on her first bite, but she found, after a time, that if she held it in her tea, it would soften up well enough. They weren't half bad, either.

After all his bustling about in the kitchen, Hagrid finally dropped into a huge wooden chair across from her.

"Never introduced meself," he said. "Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds here at Hogwarts."

This was the part when Aquila was supposed to introduce herself as well, but she kept quiet.

"Firs' year, eh?" he asked.

Aquila dipped another rock cake into her tea.

If her silence bothered him, Hagrid did not say. His face, buried under bushels of hair as it were, held a strange quality that she didn't recognize as he continued, "I bet you was excited to finally come an' learn some real magic. Did yeh have a favourite lesson this week?"

At this, Aquila's mask of indifference broke and she scowled. Hagrid nodded knowingly.

"Yeh won't always love everythin' yeh learn, but every bit o' magic's important in some way or another," he told her. "Can't go through life not knowin' how to brew a proper antidote or summat, can yeh?"

"I can if I never have to take a class with Professor Snape again," Aquila blurted out.

She half expected Hagrid to shout at her for talking out of turn — and against a professor, no less — but he just smiled behind his beard.

"Now why's that?" he asked.

Before she could stop herself, or think of the consequences, it all came spilling out; she tripped over her words telling him about the Sorting, about her friends, about Snape humiliating her in front of everyone. She hadn't spoken so much since the journey on the train.

Hagrid proved a very good listener, nodding along with her story. He never interrupted her. He waited until she had finished and had finally gotten it all out into the open to speak.

"These friends don' seem to be very good friends, do they?" he said at last.

"Well, I expect they're just as shocked as I am," Aquila said defensively. "We thought we'd all be in Slytherin together. If I hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor—"

"Friends don' have to be in the same house, though," said Hagrid, giving her a knowing look. "If they were real friends, yer house wouldn' matter."

This thought gave Aquila pause.

"An' as for Professor Snape, don' you pay him any mind. He's a prickly one, that Snape, likes hardly anyone outside o' Slytherin," Hagrid told her. "You just try yer best with him in Potions and tha's all anyone can ask of yeh."

Aquila's brows furrowed. Mother and Father expected perfection, or at least something very near to it. No one had ever told her she was allowed to be anything less than that.

As the afternoon passed, they talked about Hogwarts and the other teachers. At times they didn't talk at all, and that was okay too. The sky grew dark. Aquila hated to leave the warmth of his cabin for dinner, but Hagrid insisted she go back to the castle before the evening slid away into night. With her hand on the handle of the heavy wooden front door, she paused and looked back at him.

"Aquila," she told him finally. "My name is Aquila."

Hagrid smiled. "Very lovely to meet yeh, Aquila."

"You, too," she said, and, to her surprise, she really meant it. "And… thank you."

She pushed open the door and hurried off into the deepening twilight, chasing her shadow in the light cast from inside the cabin. It was only as she crossed the lawn up to the castle that she understood the strange quality in Hagrid's face throughout their time together.

It was kindness.

The weekend passed far too quickly. Aquila had spent every possible moment outside of the castle, away from Professor Snape and the dungeons, away from the other Gryffindor first years and their lingering, wary glances, away from Draco and Pansy and the friends she hardly recognized anymore. Out on the grounds, she could pretend she wasn't Aquila Black, daughter of Cepheus and Cerelia Black, a great big stain on the Black name disguised as a person; she was just a nameless first year haunting the exterior of her prison for the next seven years just the same as the ghosts who haunted the interior.

But classes resumed on Monday, as she knew they would. She did not raise her hand or speak in class unless spoken to by a professor. She would not meet anyone's eyes. When the spectre was unwillingly thrust back into being Aquila Black, it left behind enough of itself to turn her into a shade as well.

However, a most welcome distraction arose that week — flying lessons.

Aquila had been looking forward to flying lessons ever since the notice had appeared in the Gryffindor common room. She could deal with having to share the class with the Slytherin first years and her cousin if it meant learning how to fly on a real broomstick.

Of course, with the announcement came the boastful stories from Draco about his experiences riding on his broom at home. Each tale with which he regaled the Slytherin table became more absurd than the last. Aquila knew firsthand the worst thing he'd ever encountered while flying had been a stray bird or two and not a narrow escape from Muggle helicopters in pursuit, but as Draco wasn't talking to her, nor she him, she didn't see the point in trying to set the record straight.

On Thursday morning, Aquila went down to breakfast late enough that she wasn't alone the way she preferred to be. She reluctantly took a seat on the edge of the first year clump at the Gryffindor table and began spreading marmalade on her toast.

"Morning, Neville!" Seamus called cheerfully as Neville sat down next to Parvati. "Why so glum?"

"Flying lessons today, isn't it?" Neville answered. He looked like he'd just been told his toad had died. "I know I'm going to be rubbish."

"Don't say that," said Parvati.

"Yeah, you haven't even tried yet," said Dean.

Aquila grimaced into her porridge. Despite her excitement, she was sure she would be just as awful as Longbottom. According to Father, it was unbecoming of someone of her status to waste her time flying around on a broomstick when she could be learning skills to benefit her in the future. The closest she had ever come to riding a broom was being allowed to touch Draco's Comet Two Sixty whenever he brought it out to show off to her.

Granger sat next to Neville and, without sparing a second of greeting, immediately launched into a tirade of useless flying tips she'd absorbed from a book in the library called Quidditch through the Ages. Aquila had read that book about a thousand times before coming to Hogwarts. Most of Granger's "tips" would have helped them more if they were facing a real Quidditch match rather than basic flying lessons, but Aquila would not stoop so low as to initiate that conversation with someone like her. Thankfully, the endless stream of facts was cut short by the owls delivering the post.

Aquila by now had become used to seeing Apus, the family owl, amongst the crowd of owls every few days. Unlike Draco's eagle owl, which brought him sweets and presents from Auntie Cissy and Uncle Lucius, Apus came bearing what was quickly becoming a familiar, though wholly unwelcome, sight: Howlers. As she had not yet learned a spell to get rid of them before they shrieked at her, Aquila was forced to endure each one in front of the rest of the Great Hall. It seemed the other students had become accustomed to this, but for Aquila, it remained utterly humiliating.

Luckily, that morning's Howler was, by all accounts, fairly tame. Aquila sat through it all with her head lowered, avoiding everyone's gaze.

Neville opened a small package his gran had sent him; from inside he pulled out a glass ball filled with greyish smoke, not much bigger than a large marble.

"It's a Remembrall!" he told them all. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red— oh…" The smoke inside the Remembrall turned a brilliant scarlet, and Neville frowned. "...You've forgotten something."

"Maybe your wand?" Seamus suggested.

"No," said Neville, his brows knitted together in concentration.

"A textbook?" said Lavender.

Neville shook his head.

As he tried to remember exactly what he had forgotten, Draco stole the Remembrall right out of his hand. He rolled the glass ball around in his palm, smirking at it as though he had won it for himself. Aquila watched him warily. But Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle didn't even seem to notice she was there, and that, she thought, was the worst part of this sudden callousness.

Weasley and Potter sprang to their feet the moment Draco took the Remembrall, but they needn't have; Professor McGonagall was already upon them before anything could start.

"What's the matter here?" she asked.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," said Neville.

"Just looking," Draco assured her.

He dropped the Remembrall onto the table with a very poorly hidden scowl, leaving the Gryffindors to scramble for it as he sulked back over to the Slytherin table with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.

Aquila felt the morning lessons went by too fast, and soon enough she was walking behind Lavender and Parvati down the front steps to a smooth lawn on the grounds. With a clear sky and a touch of a breeze, they couldn't have asked for a better day for flying.

On the lawn lay twenty broomsticks. These brooms looked nothing like Draco's. His was sleek and polished, nearly the best Galleons could buy. The school broomsticks were tattered and a bit shabby; Aquila was half certain she would get a splinter from the wooden handle.

"Well, come on then! What are you waiting for?" said a sharp voice. Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, had joined them. "Everyone stand by a broomstick."

They clambered over each other to get to one of the broomsticks. Aquila stood between Neville and Daphne Greengrass. Daphne didn't acknowledge her.

Madam Hooch took her place at the front of the class. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"

A chorus of voices began shouting immediately. Aquila looked down at her broom, with its rough handle and unkempt tail, stuck her hand out, took a deep breath, and said, with all her might, "Up!"

Nothing happened.

Her shoulders slumped. Glancing around, she saw that Potter's broom had responded to him at once, and so had Draco's. Irritation swept through her. If Draco could do it, so could she.

Again, Aquila stuck her hand out, pulled in a breath, and this time, thinking of how wonderful it would feel to finally fly, yelled, "UP!"

The broomstick flew straight into her hand. Aquila marvelled at it. Suddenly it didn't seem so raggedy.

Madam Hooch spent the first part of the lesson teaching them the correct technique for mounting a broom, which Aquila appreciated. The last thing she wanted was to slide off the end of her broom. Then came the part Aquila had been looking forward to the most.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch instructed. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle — three — two—"

Aquila's muscles tightened in anticipation, but before Madam Hooch could finish, Neville, poor, terrified Neville, kicked off from the ground early and jumped into the air.

"Come back, boy!"

It was no use. Neville either couldn't control his broom or was so scared he had no chance. He rose higher and higher over their heads. Then — Aquila was never sure if he'd done it on purpose or if he'd simply lost his grip — he slipped off the broomstick—

The crack seemed to echo across the lawn. Neville had landed in a crumpled heap on the grass. Aquila heard later that his broomstick had floated away toward the Forbidden Forest, but she could not take her eyes off him. Madam Hooch hurried to check on him.

"Broken wrist," she muttered, holding his arm gently. "Come on." She helped Neville stand up and looked at the rest of them. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Madam Hooch led a sobbing Neville back towards the castle. The other first years watched them go.

Draco's laughter shattered the silence that had fallen over the lawn. The others joined him — Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. Theodore didn't bother to hide his own smirk.

"His face! Did you see that!" Draco said. He did a crude imitation of Neville's expression in the air and the Slytherins erupted once more. "Pity he didn't land on his—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati snapped.

"Yeah, leave him alone," said Dean.

Pansy sneered at them. "Don't tell me, we should feel sorry for the idiot, should we? When it's his own fault he fell in the first place?"

Aquila's insides were burning. She didn't particularly care about Neville one way or another, but she had half a mind to say something. But then she caught Draco's eye, his cruel expression daring her to speak against him and her friends, and her voice failed her.

His brows suddenly furrowed. Lunging forward, he grabbed something lying in the grass and held Neville's Remembrall up in his fingers for all of them to see. Draco's features shone with callous triumph. "Longbottom should be more careful where he leaves his rubbish."

"Give it here, Malfoy."

Quiet fell over the gathered first years as every head turned toward Potter. He was glaring at Draco.

"No, I don't think I will," Draco said. He pretended to sound thoughtful. "Think I'll put it up on the roof. Longbottom can find it himself if he wants to make a fool of himself so badly." Before anyone could move, Draco threw his leg over his broomstick and rose into the air. He was lifted higher and higher until his feet dangled several metres above the ground. Looking down on them all, Draco called, "Too scared to take both feet off the ground, eh, Potter?"

Even as he spoke, Potter mounted his own broom.

"No, don't!" Granger protested. "You heard Madam Hooch! Imagine the trouble you'll get us all into—"

But he didn't seem to be listening. He kicked off from the ground and rocketed into the air, rising to the same height as Draco. As Parvati and Lavender gasped and Weasley cheered, Aquila's heart leapt into her throat. Both were being reckless. She hated to admit it, but Granger was right. If Madam Hooch saw either of them, they would be sent home, kicked out of Hogwarts over a Remembrall, of all things.

Draco and Potter exchanged words they couldn't hear from down below. The rest of the first years watched as Potter's broom zoomed toward Draco, who dodged him only at the last second. There were more cheers from the Gryffindors, but Aquila felt ill.

Just when she thought perhaps they would come to some sort of agreement, Draco pulled his arm back and threw the Remembrall into the air above his head. Aquila's eyes lost the little glass ball against the bright background of the sky. As Draco flew back down to the grass, Potter sped forward, his broomstick angled toward the ground. He dove after the Remembrall. Aquila was sure he was going to crash; he wouldn't be able to right himself in time. Aquila and several others screamed.

And then — whether a feat of incredible skill or sheer luck — Potter landed on the ground safe and unharmed, one hand clenched in a tight fist, a broad grin on his face.

"HARRY POTTER!"

The rest of the Gryffindors swallowed their cheers. They turned as one to see Professor McGonagall striding across the lawn faster than any of them would have expected from her. She was sputtering, stumbling over her words in her shock.

"In all my years— I have never— could have broken your neck— !"

"But Professor—"

"Not a word, Mr. Finnigan."

"Professor, please, you don't understand—"

"I believe I understand perfectly well, Miss Brown! Potter—"

She was shaking so violently she could hardly speak. Potter's smile slipped from his face. He gave the Remembrall to Weasley, but he wouldn't look at anyone else as he trailed after Professor McGonagall back to the castle.

Aquila watched them go, a funny hollow feeling filling her stomach. What would Professor McGonagall do to him? Would she kick him out like Madam Hooch had said? Harry Potter — the Harry Potter — expelled from Hogwarts in his first year. Even the possibility didn't seem real.

She made the mistake of glancing at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who looked positively gleeful. The rest of the Slytherin first years sported the same amusement.

Anger flared through her. They were happy that Harry Potter was going to be expelled?

The other Gryffindors did not take this very kindly. Weasley, Dean, and Seamus looked a second away from pouncing on the Slytherins, and Lavender and Parvati were glaring daggers at Pansy. Aquila stood off to the side watching it all, a spectator at a Quidditch match, secretly hoping Madam Hooch would stay gone long enough for Draco to be on the receiving end of Weasley's Bludger fist and wondering if that made her a bad person.

But Madam Hooch returned not long after Potter and Professor McGonagall had left. She finished the lesson with a pinched expression on her hawklike face, promising they would be able to practise actually flying the next week before dismissing them.

As they trudged back across the grounds for dinner, Potter's fate became the topic of conversation.

"They wouldn't expel him, would they?" Lavender wondered aloud, her voice high with worry.

"If they do, they'd better expel Malfoy, too," Weasley grumbled. "It's his fault, innit?"

The instinct to defend her cousin roared through Aquila like a sonorous charm, but she clamped down on it hard. For the first time, she actually agreed with the redheaded nuisance (and the thought made her gag). If Potter was expelled from Hogwarts, Draco's goading and recklessness should earn him the same punishment.

Granger stuck her nose up in the air — or she might've if she didn't wear that particular haughty, know-it-all look all the time. "I think if you break the rules you get what you deserve."

"No one asked what you think," Weasley snapped.