The boys were making quite the racket as they walked away, teasing Howard, who couldn't hide his grin.

"That's going to go straight to his head," Rosie said to Thess, after they'd said their goodbyes at King's Cross.

"It's fine, they're not our problem anymore." Despite her cool demeanor, Rosie noticed the faint shadow of a smile on her friend's face.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Still had a bit of a sock flavor."

A portly man with the unmistakable fiery hair of the Weasleys approached.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Rosie ran to hug her father. Thess tried to mask her envy by looking at the train as it pulled away—the place that had been her home for seven years was now officially in the past.

"Rosie, did you tell her what I asked?" Ron Weasley whispered in his daughter's ear.

"Oh, I forgot!" she said, turning back to Thess. "My dad wants you to know that if you get an offer from the Chudley Cannons, you should take it."

"Tell him I'll consider it."

"I'm going to miss you."

"Me too."

The two hugged, and a few tears fell from both their faces.

"And no becoming a nepo baby at the Ministry. Find something challenging to do."

"I'll consider it," Rosie replied with a smirk, returning the joke.

And then they were gone, leaving Thess alone.

She had just enough time for a sigh before she noticed a young man holding a sign that read "Wood" and staring at her expectantly.

He looked like a child who'd grown too fast—over six feet tall, easily more than 220 pounds. Muscular and hefty, but not intimidating, with a babyish face.

"Excuse me," she said, approaching him. "Are you looking for me?"

"Thessaly Wyrmwood?" the giant boy asked enthusiastically.

"Yes?"

"Hello!" he said, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you. The Angels have spoken a lot about you."

"Angels?"

"That's right! I've been so excited."

"And you're an 'Angel' too?"

"Of course! I'm Tariq Thorne—call me Tariq, or Thorne, whichever you prefer. I'm your new Beater."

"You can let go of my hand now, Tariq."

"Oh, sorry," he said, releasing her.

"Nice to meet you," Thess said, wiping his sweaty handshake on her jeans. "As for being my new Beater, we'll see about that."

"Manage your expectations, Teddy Bear," said a witch who had just arrived, catching Thess by surprise. "We're just here to escort you to the coach. Contract decisions are her job."

The newcomer was an exotic blend of features Thess had never seen before. She was stunning—athletic, elegant, with piercing eyes and gorgeous brown hair—but she seemed to shop at the same store as Minerva McGonagall. Oh, and there was the wheelchair.

"Sorry, Birdie," Tariq (or rather, Teddy Bear) mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "I got carried away, but look—it's really her. Thessaly Wyrmwood, from the Wyrmwood Maneuver."

"He's not always like this," said the witch. "He's just nervous because he's just met you. He'll calm down once he gets used to you."

"Used to me?" Thess thought, a bit annoyed that her apparent new teammate was already acting like she was part of the group.

"I like your hat," Thess lied.

"Thanks, I made it myself. I'm Estela Hawke, but you can call me—"

"Birdie?"

"No, never."

"Can I carry your bags?" Tariq asked, already grabbing them before Thess could reply.

"I can carry them myself," she said, trying to catch up with him.

"Don't worry, it's no trouble," he said, marching off through the station.

"Mind giving me a hand with the chair?" Estela asked.

"Of course," Thess agreed, begrudgingly and slightly embarrassed.

In the parking lot, Tariq carried Thess's bags over to a baby blue Ford Anglia, which, despite its vintage look, appeared as though it had just been featured on one of those TV shows that restore classic cars.

"This is your car?" Thess asked.

"No, it's the coach's," said a young man stepping out of the driver's seat. "She lent it to us to come pick you up."

"Thess, this is Sean. Sean, this is—"

"We've met," Sean interrupted, extending his hand.

It wasn't entirely true. But Thess knew who he was. Sean Fitzgerald had been a Chaser for Slytherin the previous year. During his time at school, he'd been quite popular, especially among girls who were fans of K-dramas. Sean looked like he'd stepped straight out of one and onto the Quidditch pitch. But Thess and he had never exchanged a word until now.

"I remember you—you scored so many goals in last year's final that the Hufflepuff Seeker had to catch the Snitch just to avoid further humiliation."

"Were you a fan?"

Thess laughed. "Keep dreaming."

"Good to see you two are getting along," Estela said.

Tariq easily placed the bags in the trunk and then went to help his girlfriend transfer from her wheelchair into the car.

"We could've just Apparated," Thess suggested.

"The coach said the drive would give us a chance to get to know each other," Tariq explained.

"Besides," Sean added, settling back into the driver's seat, "London's beautiful at night. You'll see. I'm taking the scenic route."

"Are you sure we'll all fit?" Thess asked, worried about having to share the backseat with Tariq.

"Don't worry," Tariq said, demonstrating the car's spacious interior. "This car used to transport a family of nine. The whole team could fit comfortably in here."

"That's not a comforting thought," she muttered as she climbed in. In fact, a well-executed spell had given the Anglia the space and comfort of a limousine, with the added benefit of being much easier to park.

They left behind the beautiful Victorian architecture of the station. Thess glanced one last time at the imposing Gothic tower of St. Pancras International as they drove away down Euston Road.

"So, Sean," Thess said, trying to break the ice, "you don't seem English."

"Oh, you noticed? Good. I'm actually Irish, and we hate being mistaken for English."

"Sean's real name is Seong-jin Kim-Fitzgerald."

"The one and only," Sean grinned, "but everyone calls me Sean. It's easier for you lot. You can call me that too if you like."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that."

"Oh, there is. My dad says I'm the result of a happy international expansion."

"Your dad sounds like a fun guy."

"You have no idea."

Though they were driving through a busy road in the heart of London, traffic was light that evening. Sean slowed down as they passed the elegant façade of the British Library.

Thess noticed a certain tension among the others in the car. Tariq was the worst at hiding it.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Estela replied.

"Everyone just wants to know how you manage to spot the Snitch when it's in stealth mode," Tariq blurted out.

"Teddy Bear!" Estela scolded him.

"She told you guys about that?" Thess asked, surprised.

"No," Sean said quickly, "of course not."

"Orion told us," Estela added.

Thess could already guess who Orion was. After all, they had exchanged wary looks during the final match of the House Cup.

"So," Tariq pressed, "can you tell us?"

"No," Estela cut in firmly, "she can't. That's a conversation for her and the coach."

"It's not really that big of a secret," Thess said.

"Even so," Sean said, glancing at Tariq in the rearview mirror, "that's something that needs to stay between you and the coach. If we lose our secret weapon, the games will get a lot harder."

Although it wasn't such a complicated secret, Thess knew her ability wasn't something easily replicated. Even so, she decided to remain quiet.

As they continued, they entered the residential area around Russell Square. The narrow streets had been built long before anyone had imagined traffic or cars, but fortunately, the small Anglia had no trouble navigating the area.

"You said your last name was Hawk?" Thess asked Estela.

"Seahawk," Tariq corrected.

"What?"

"You can just call me Estela," Estela replied.

"Okay. Estela, do you play Quidditch?"

"I'm a Chaser and captain of the Angels."

The present-tense response left Thess with more questions, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"Go on, just ask already," Estela said, irritated.

"How...?" Thess began.

"I play Quidditch professionally," Estela interrupted. "I'll give you one guess."

"I'm sorry," Thess said.

"Wizarding medicine works wonders..."

"But not miracles. Yeah, I've heard that one."

"If a broomstick can fly over 150 kilometers per hour," Sean added, "then a broom crash is like falling off a motorcycle..."

"Off the London Bridge," Estela finished.

"I know what that's like," Thess said, unconsciously scratching her face.

"Wish I'd been lucky enough to come out with just a broken nose. Thank the coach for the protection spell she cast on you when you see her."

"So it was her," Thess said.

"Who else would care about someone like you?" Sean said.

"Hey..."

"Don't take it the wrong way," Tariq added. "We're all underdogs here. Ginny's the only one who cares about people like us."

Tariq spoke with conviction, but it sounded strange coming from someone referring to an aristocrat like a Potter. In Thess's experience, only the underdogs cared about each other. But then again, there was Rosie, and Ginny was her aunt.

"Either way," Thess said, "it's the least she could've done after sending those Beaters to take my head off."

"Hah," Estela laughed. "Ginny would never do that."

"I've heard that one before, but—"

"It was Orion who did that," Sean said.

The Ford Anglia pulled up at the corner of Charing Cross Road, in front of the Palace Theatre, near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny was waiting for them, and beside her stood a tall, dark, and mysterious young man.

"You've finally arrived," Ginny said as Thess stepped out of the car, stomping toward her. "Good. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad. Thess, I'd like you to meet—"

But Ginny was interrupted when Thess landed a punch squarely on Orion's nose.