Soon Arthur was well and home, and just a few weeks later it was time to return to school. The return to Hogwarts after Christmas felt different. The hallways, the snow-covered grounds, the familiar chatter of students—it was all the same, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air. Brooklyn felt it especially. Between her growing confusion over her feelings for Fred and George, and the ever-present weight of what had happened at Grimmauld Place, it was hard to focus on anything else.
It didn't take long for things to come to a head.
One evening, after dinner, Brooklyn was walking with Fred and George, just trying to enjoy the familiar warmth of their company, when George suddenly pulled her aside in the hallway. Fred kept walking ahead, giving them space, though Brooklyn could see he was trying to pretend everything was normal.
"Brooklyn, we need to talk," George said, his voice tight. He wasn't angry, but there was something in his eyes—a sort of quiet hurt that made Brooklyn's stomach churn.
"What about?" she asked, trying to play it off as casually as possible, though she knew what was coming.
"About the kiss," George said flatly, his gaze unwavering. "You know Fred and I both care about you. But you can't keep playing us both like this."
Brooklyn's heart dropped. She wasn't ready for this. She hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.
"I—George, I didn't mean for it to be like that," she said softly, looking away from him. "It just… happened. I wasn't even the one who started it"
George's jaw clenched. He took a step closer, his eyes searching her face, as though trying to understand something she hadn't yet said. "You can't keep doing this. It's not fair to either of us. We're twins, Brooklyn. We share everything, but we can't share you."
Her chest tightened. She hadn't meant to hurt them. She just hadn't known what to say, what to do, or who to choose. Plus, it wasn't even her fault.
"I don't know what to do, George," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to make a choice. I care about both of you."
George's face softened, but his eyes were still filled with conflict. "That's just it, isn't it? You can't keep us both, Brooklyn. If you want us to stay a team, you need to pick."
She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in her chest. "I don't want to hurt either of you," she whispered. "But I don't know what I feel, or who I'm supposed to be with. I just want everything to be okay."
George let out a breath, his frustration giving way to exhaustion. "We're twins, Brooklyn," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't watch this tear us apart. You have to choose. I just don't want it to break us."
Brooklyn felt a lump form in her throat, but she didn't know how to respond. The silence between them was deafening.
"I… I'm sorry, George," she said softly, stepping back. "I just need time. I don't know what I want."
George gave a small nod, though his eyes were filled with a sadness that made Brooklyn feel more conflicted than ever. "Take all the time you need, but just know that whatever happens, it can't stay like this."
Without another word, George turned and walked away, leaving Brooklyn standing in the middle of the corridor, her heart heavy and torn.
Weeks passed, and the tension between Brooklyn and the twins remained. It wasn't as if they were avoiding each other, but the unspoken weight of her indecision hung in the air whenever they were together. She missed the easy camaraderie they once shared, the lighthearted banter that had made their friendship so special. But now, everything felt strained.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
There was a mass breakout from Azkaban.
It started with whispers in the hallways, rumors of a large-scale escape that had sent shockwaves through the wizarding world. By the time Brooklyn and her friends had gathered in the common room that evening, the news had spread like wildfire.
Azkaban had been breached.
Prisoners—some of the most dangerous dark wizards and witches—had broken free, and among them was one name that hit Brooklyn like a punch to the gut: Sam Mclair.
Her father.
The man who had killed her mother, Elizabeth Mclair.
The man who had torn her family apart.
"Sam Mclair?" Brooklyn's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with disbelief as the news washed over her. She had never expected him to escape—never expected to hear that name again, not after all these years.
"How is that possible?" Ron asked, his voice low with shock. Hermione looked equally pale, unable to speak for a moment.
Brooklyn felt numb, her mind reeling. Her dad was a murderer. The thought of him walking free, out there in the world again, made her blood run cold. He would try to come after her, after her little siblings.
"Dumbledore will have a plan," Harry said, his voice strained. Brooklyn could tell he was trying to comfort her, but it wasn't working. Nothing would ease the panic rising in her chest. She tried to blink away tears in her eyes but then the portrait door swung open. Fred and George walked in, they both immediately noticed Brooklyn. Her usual bright demeanor was gone, replaced by an expression of quiet torment.
"Brooklyn?" Fred's voice was softer than usual, and he and George exchanged a look. They had never seen her like this before.
Brooklyn looked up slowly, her eyes hollow. "Hey," she said weakly, trying to muster a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"What's wrong?" George asked, his voice filled with concern. He sat down beside her, and Fred followed suit. The twins weren't the type to let their problems with her hang over them for long—especially when it was clear she was hurting.
Brooklyn took a deep breath, swallowing hard before speaking. "My dad… he escaped from Azkaban."
There was a long pause, as the twins absorbed the news. For a moment, Brooklyn thought they might react like everyone else—shock, questions, maybe even pity. But they didn't. Instead, their expressions softened with understanding, and Fred placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You don't have to say anything more, Brooklyn," Fred said quietly, his usual teasing tone gone. "We're here for you."
"We're with you, no matter what," George added, his voice firm, yet full of empathy. The playful spark was gone from his eyes. In that moment, Brooklyn could see the depth of their concern for her. They weren't angry at her anymore; they weren't concerned with the kiss or the mess between them. It was all forgotten.
Brooklyn looked at them, the overwhelming sense of relief washing over her. She hadn't realized how much she needed their support until this very moment. They weren't going to make her choose between them, or push her to talk. They were just... there.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice cracking. "He's out there, and I don't know if he'll come for me… or if he'll come for anyone else."
Fred and George exchanged a look, and then George squeezed her shoulder. "We'll make sure you're safe," he said with a quiet determination. "You're part of this family, Brooklyn. We've got your back."
Fred nodded in agreement. "We won't let anything happen to you. Not on our watch."
Tears welled up in Brooklyn's eyes, but she blinked them away, grateful for their unwavering support. She couldn't put into words how much it meant to have the twins stand by her, no matter the situation. It was terrifying. Only the twins and Angelina knew the full story of what had happened five years ago, when Brooklyn was only a second year.
That night was a night that Brooklyn would never forget, a night that would burn itself into her memory forever. It started like any other; the hum of her mother's voice as she tucked in Mia and Ryan, the soft sounds of the house settling in, and the light tapping of her feet on the floor as she tried to bury herself in a book. It should have been an ordinary night, but it wasn't.
The familiar tension in the air was palpable as her parents' argument grew louder. Brooklyn's heart sank. She knew this could turn ugly. It always did. Her father, Sam, had been drinking again, and when he drank, things got out of control.
Her mother's voice was calm, trying to soothe him, but Brooklyn could hear the fear creeping in. She could hear the desperation in Elizabeth's voice, a woman trying to pacify a monster, trying to hold onto some semblance of peace.
"Sam, please," her mother's voice cracked. "Not tonight, please."
But Brooklyn knew better than to think her father would listen. He never listened. The yelling grew louder, more frantic. She stood frozen in the hallway, barely daring to breathe, her heart pounding in her chest.
Then came the silence.
It was a moment of eerie stillness, and in that silence, Brooklyn's blood ran cold. She knew this was it. She knew this would end in violence.
She didn't wait. She couldn't.
As quickly as she could, Brooklyn rushed down the hall and into the kitchen. Her mother was standing near the table, her back to Brooklyn, her face pale and twisted in fear as Sam stood before her, wand in hand, his face contorted with rage.
"Sam… please…" Elizabeth whispered again, her voice so quiet it barely made a sound.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The curse rang out, green light flashing across the room as it hit Elizabeth full in the chest. Brooklyn froze, eyes wide, her heart stuttering in her chest. She could only watch as her mother fell to the floor with a sickening thud, her eyes wide open, lifeless.
Her world shattered.
Her father turned to face her now, eyes burning with fury. He didn't even register his wife's death; he was consumed with rage, consumed by whatever twisted darkness had taken over him.
"Crucio!"
The Cruciatus Curse struck Brooklyn before she could even think to move. The pain exploded through her body, tearing her apart as she collapsed to the floor in agony. Her muscles spasmed uncontrollably, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she writhed in pain.
She could hear her father's laughter, a dark, cruel sound that made her blood run cold. "You think you can stop me, you little brat?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
The curse tore through her, wracking her body with pain so unbearable that it felt as if her very soul was being ripped apart. She couldn't focus, couldn't think beyond the pain. All she could feel was the fire, the searing torment coursing through her veins.
She had to do something. She had to protect them.
Her siblings.
Emily. Ryan. Mia.
They were in danger.
The thought, the instinct, cut through the haze of pain like a hot knife through butter. She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists as she fought against the agony, willing her body to respond. The pain was nearly unbearable, but she could hear her father, still laughing, still tormenting her mother's lifeless form. She couldn't let him hurt her siblings.
With what little strength she could muster, Brooklyn forced herself to her feet. Her vision blurred, but she kept moving, staggering toward the hallway, toward the bedroom where Mia's crib was. She heard Emily's voice, full of confusion and fear, calling for her.
"Brooklyn? Brooklyn!"
But Brooklyn couldn't answer. She could barely hold herself upright, each step feeling like it would be her last.
She reached the hallway. Emily stood there with Ryan, holding his hand, with tears streaming down her face, clutching Mia to her chest, all of them trembling in fear.
"Brooklyn!" Ryan cried, his small voice shaking. "Mum... Mum... where's Mum?"
Brooklyn's heart broke as she looked at her younger brother, barely six years old. He didn't understand. He didn't know what had just happened.
"Emily, take Ryan andMia and go," Brooklyn said, her voice barely a whisper, but it was urgent. "Go to the Grandma's house. Go now."
Emily looked at her, confused, but Brooklyn pushed them to the door "Go. Run," she urged"Don't look back."
Ryan hesitated, fear written all over his face, but Brooklyn was firm. "Go, Emily. Please."
Without another word, they ran, the two small forms disappearing out the backdoor, carrying Mia, as Brooklyn stood alone in the aftermath of the nightmare.
She collapsed to her knees, the pain still burning through her, but there was no time to focus on it. She had to save them. Her family. She had to get them out.
Brooklyn blinked away tears. She didn't remember how she ended up at the Burrow that night, but all she knew was from then on, Molly and Arthur cared for her like one of their own. She looked own at the mug of hot chocolate George had made her, her fingers absently tracing the rim as Fred and George sat beside her. The fire crackled in the hearth, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled deep within her. Fred was talking to her but she didn't hear him.
George noticed the quiet, the way she wasn't responding to Fred, and he gave her a soft nudge. "Brooklyn, we'll deal with it. You don't have to do this alone."
Fred, too, stopped, catching the seriousness in the air, and leaned forward. "We've got your back, always. You're not alone in this."
She gave them both a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," she whispered.
The twins exchanged a look, their usual joking demeanor replaced with concern. "You don't have to figure everything out right now," Fred said quietly. "One step at a time."
The weeks slipped by, NEWTs and graduation growing closer. The twins were even starting to study at this point.
One cold Thursday afternoon, a few weeks later, the twins were at the library with Brooklyn. Brooklyn was over in the restricted section looking for a charms book while Goegr was a table over flirting with a Hufflepuff girl sitting there, and Fred was writing an overdue Potions essay.
Suddeny, the quill he was using snapped. He glared at the broken feather before grabbing Brooklyn's bag and rummaged through it, looking for a spare. His hand brushed against a folded piece of parchment at the bottom, and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled it out, unfolding it as he scanned the text. His breath caught as he read the familiar terms of a contract—chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, professional Quidditch team. Brooklyn's name was right there at the top.
His heart dropped. He had no idea she had signed with them.
"Fred?" George's voice called from across the room, but Fred didn't respond. He kept reading, the realization settling in that she hadn't shared this with him—or with them.
George wandered over, catching sight of the parchment in Fred's hand. "What's that?" His voice faltered slightly as he glanced between Fred and Brooklyn, who was walking back over to them.
Brooklyn froze when she saw them holding the contract, her stomach flipping in that familiar way. She should have told them. She meant to, but things kept happening, and it just never felt like the right time.
Fred looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion and something else—hurt, maybe. "Brooklyn… you signed with the Harpies?" His voice was quiet, not accusing, but full of a tinge of disbelief.
Brooklyn stood, her face flushed. "I didn't want to say anything until it was all official," she explained, her voice tight. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I thought it would change things. And it's not like I could tell you before the contract was signed, right?"
George was quiet for a moment, staring at the parchment in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Fred beat him to it.
"I don't know," Fred said softly, looking at Brooklyn. "I just… thought you would've told us. It's a huge deal, Brooklyn. We're your… your best friends. It's exciting. We're excited for you. But you should've let us in on this."
Brooklyn's chest tightened, guilt creeping up on her. "I didn't want it to feel like it was overshadowing everything else. I mean, with everything happening—your dad, my dad and all—and I wasn't sure how it would affect... you know, us."
George finally spoke up, walking over to her. "It's huge, Brooklyn," he said, his voice soft but steady. "We're proud of you. It's just… we're your friends. You don't have to hide things from us."
Fred nodded. "Yeah. You should've told us. But we're still excited for you. Seriously."
Suddenly, as if the realization had only just then hit them, Fred and George's expressions shifted immediately from hurt to excitement. Their eyes widened in disbelief as the weight of the moment hit them. Brooklyn had just signed with the Holyhead Harpies, one of the most prestigious Quidditch teams in the world.
Fred practically jumped up from his seat, the contract still clutched in his hand. "Wait—wait a minute!" he said, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. "You're going pro? You're going pro?"
Brooklyn nodded sheepishly, her cheeks pink. "I mean, yeah? Did you not realize that's what the contract meant?"
George, who had been sitting quietly next to Fred, now looked absolutely thrilled. His grin was wide enough to split his face. "This is huge, Brooklyn!" He stood up as well, practically bouncing on his feet. "I mean, you're going pro. That's unheard of! Hogwarts players rarely go to the big leagues. You're it. This is—this is the real deal!"
Fred looked back and forth between his twin and Brooklyn, as if he could hardly believe it. "This is a bloody big deal!" he said, laughing in disbelief. "You just went from Hogwarts Chaser to professional in one go. That's—bloody brilliant!"
Brooklyn laughed nervously, the intensity of their excitement starting to wash away some of her guilt. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret. It just kind of... happened really quickly, and with everything else going on, I wasn't sure when the right time would be."
George shook his head, his grin never fading. "Right time or not, we're just so bloody proud of you! You've got something we've been dreaming about for years. The Harpies! That's amazing. Do you know how few players make it out of Hogwarts and into a real team like that?"
Fred waved his hand dismissively, still holding the contract. "We'd been hoping to make a big splash with our joke shop, but you? You're going to take the Quidditch world by storm. Seriously, Brooklyn, we're buzzing for you."
Fred started pacing around the room, as if imagining Brooklyn in a professional Quidditch game. "You've got the talent. I mean, the fact that you're still holding a spot on the Hogwarts team while juggling all this other stuff is already impressive enough."
George smirked. "You're going to have to save us front row tickets for your first game. We'll be the loudest ones in the stands."
Brooklyn smiled, the warmth of their excitement making her feel less nervous. "Thanks, guys. I guess... I wasn't sure how it would feel telling you. I'll save you both tickets."
Fred gave her a mischievous look. "Oh, we're not just coming for the game, are we, George?"
George raised an eyebrow. "Definitely not. We'll be there for the after-party. You know, helping you celebrate your victory... and maybe sneak in a few new pranks for the team."
Brooklyn rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "You two never stop, do you?"
"Nope," Fred said with a wide grin, before looking at George. "What do you think, mate? Should we help Brooklyn get her first prank on the field?"
George's eyes lit up with mischief. "It's a must, Fred. A must." He turned to Brooklyn. "We'll get you the best pranks, no worries. Just promise us one thing—if you ever end up on the team's banner or posters, make sure we get some credit for making you laugh, okay?"
Brooklyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Deal. And hey, maybe I'll let you two prank the Harpies' opponents—after I've won, of course."
Fred and George cheered, suddenly more energized than ever. The tension in Brooklyn's chest finally started to ease. They were proud of her—really, truly proud. She wasn't alone in this. With the twins' energy and support, she felt like she could take on anything.
"Well, you two better start thinking of prank ideas," Brooklyn said with a playful grin. "But no pressure."
"No pressure?" Fred said dramatically, dropping back into his chair. "We'll start working on it right now. We've got a legacy to build, and you're our first official client."
The three of them laughed together, and Brooklyn felt a surge of gratitude for the twins and their unshakable support. Things weren't perfect, and there were still a lot of unknowns, but in this moment, with Fred and George being this happy for her, she could forget about the other things, even if just for a little.
As the weeks passed, the Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons continued under Harry's leadership, with more and more students eager to learn and improve their skills. The group that had gathered for Dumbledore's Army sessions seemed to grow every time they met, and Brooklyn was thankful for the camaraderie that had developed among them. While their lessons were in secret, the buzz about them was unmistakable. However, as the news of their meetings spread, the pressure from Umbridge and the Ministry only grew stronger.
One afternoon, Harry and Brooklyn were sitting in the great hall, going over their notes for the next DA lesson. As they spoke, the conversation quickly shifted to the other events unfolding at Hogwarts, particularly the mounting pressure from Umbridge.
"I can't believe she hasn't figured it out yet," Harry said, frustrated, rubbing his temples as he looked over his notes. "We've been holding these lessons in secret, but I can feel it. Something's coming."
Brooklyn nodded, trying not to let her own worry show. "We can't let them stop us, though. We've already made a difference. The students who've been coming to these lessons—they're getting better. You're doing a great job, Harry. They look up to you."
"Doesn't feel like it's enough," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "We can't keep this under wraps forever."
At that moment, Ron and Hermione entered, the four of them exchanging looks. There was an unusual tension in the air.
"Have you heard?" Hermione asked urgently. "Trelawney's been sacked."
Brooklyn blinked, surprised. "What? Really?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "It's all over the school. Umbridge said she was 'unfit to teach' and dismissed her immediately. But get this—Firenze, a centaur, is the new Divination teacher."
"That's—insane," Ron said, his voice filled with disbelief.
Brooklyn couldn't help but laugh, though it was a bit bitter. "A centaur teaching Divination. What's next? A werewolf teaching Care of Magical Creatures?"
Harry shook his head. "This school is becoming more and more like a joke every day. First Umbridge and now Firenze. What's going to happen next?"
Before they could respond, the door opened, and Ginny came in with a concerned look on her face. "Marietta Edgecombe just went to Umbridge with the information about the D.A.," she said, her voice low. "I overheard her talking to a couple of other girls about it. She's the one who ratted us out."
"What?" Harry said, his voice low with anger. "She told them? After everything we've done?"
Brooklyn's face darkened. "She's probably scared of what'll happen if she doesn't. Umbridge's been threatening anyone who steps out of line."
But as they spoke, they heard a loud thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone stumbling. A second later, Marietta entered the Great Hall, her face flushed, and her eyes wide with distress.
Hermione immediately looked at her with suspicion.
Marietta opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her face contorted in pain as she lifted her hand to her forehead, her fingers touching a strange mark that now marred her skin. It was a vivid purple, as if her skin had been burned by the curse that Hermione had placed on her during their earlier confrontation. The curse prevented her from revealing the details of their secret meetings, and it was clearly taking a toll on her now.
"Marietta," Hermione said as she walked over to her, her tone softening slightly but still firm. "You made the wrong choice, and now you have to deal with the consequences."
Marietta's eyes filled with frustration as she turned away from them. "I—didn't have a choice! I was trying to protect myself! You don't understand..."
Before anyone could say anything more, in walked Dobby, the house-elf. He looked unusually serious, his large eyes darting around nervously.
"Master Harry Potter, I must warn you," Dobby said in a hurried whisper. "The D.A. has been discovered. There is no time to lose. The Ministry is on its way. Please, you must be careful. The Ministry is looking for those who participated. They will come for you, Master Harry, and for everyone who was involved."
Brooklyn exchanged a tense look with Harry. "We can't let them find out who was in the D.A.," she said, her voice low and urgent. "We need to protect everyone."
But before they could plan, the doors swung open once more, and this time, it was none other than Umbridge herself. She stood there with her trademark smile, her eyes narrowed in a way that made it clear she already knew more than she should.
"Potter. Weasley. Granger. Mclair," she said with a sneer. "I think we need to have a little chat about the recent 'activities' around this school."
Harry and Brooklyn exchanged a glance, their anxiety growing. They both knew they couldn't afford to give in. But as Umbridge's presence grew more suffocating, the weight of the situation was becoming too much to bear.
Later that evening, they were summoned to the Ministry, where Cornelius Fudge and Umbridge were waiting. The interrogation was long and drawn-out, filled with absurd questions and heavy threats. Despite all of it, Harry denied everything, maintaining that the D.A. was not anything of importance. Brooklyn stood beside him, her jaw clenched, her face pale with the pressure of the situation.
But just as things seemed about to go south, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared. With a few words and a swish of his wand, Marietta's memory was altered, and the evidence of their meetings seemed to vanish into thin air.
However, the cost was high. Dumbledore, ever the protector, took full responsibility for the D.A. and the chaos it caused. In an unexpected turn of events, he left Hogwarts, no longer able to remain there under the Ministry's pressure.
The castle had never felt so cold. The air seemed to hum with tension, the silence in the halls almost deafening. Students whispered in groups, casting wary glances at the staff, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact as though unsure of which side they should be on. The change in the school was undeniable: the portraits no longer welcomed the students with smiles, and the usual hum of excitement around the holidays had been replaced with a stiff, forced atmosphere.
It wasn't long before the news was confirmed. Dumbledore was no longer the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Umbridge had taken over as the Head of the school, an appointment made official with a slick and cold announcement over the enchanted megaphone that hung over the entrance to the Great Hall. Her face was a mask of triumph, but there was a darkness in her eyes that made the students uneasy.
For Brooklyn, the feeling of dread had settled deep in her bones. It was impossible to escape her anger and frustration, especially as she watched Umbridge take her place at the head table. The old, warm, and comforting Hogwarts had died that day. The halls felt like a prison now—one she couldn't escape.
But Brooklyn wasn't the only one with a plan. Fred and George had been working on something for months—something that would turn the tables in their favor. The twins had concocted a series of inventions, their "Skiving Snackboxes" now being sold throughout the school, as well as other little tricks that were meant to make Umbridge's life as miserable as possible. Their mischievousness had finally met its match in the form of Umbridge, and now it was time to strike back.
The first real sign of rebellion came when a batch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was unleashed in the middle of Umbridge's first dinner as Headmistress. The Great Hall was plunged into complete darkness, and as the students scrambled to get their bearings, Fred and George had to be pried off their seats with laughter as they watched the chaos unfold.
Soon after, more pranks began to erupt across the school. Umbridge's office was plastered with posters of her face, courtesy of Fred and George's enchanted paint, while the walls of the corridors seemed to grow legs, moving around the castle, confusing the students, and causing chaos. The staff, for their part, remained silent, watching with mixed emotions. Professor McGonagall's lips were tight, and her eyes filled with both admiration and disappointment. It was clear that many of the teachers were too afraid to challenge Umbridge openly, even as they watched the students rally against her.
Then, one cold evening in the corridors of Hogwarts, Harry found himself face to face with Umbridge, who was waiting for him by the entrance to her office. Her face was flushed with barely-contained rage, and her eyes narrowed as soon as she laid eyes on him.
"Potter," she sneered, her voice low. "I'm sure you're aware that I am now Headmistress of this school, and I do not appreciate students who think they can undermine my authority. I'm sure you can understand the consequences of such actions."
Harry stood tall, his shoulders tense but his gaze unwavering. He knew exactly what she meant, and he wasn't about to let her intimidate him. "You don't get to control us, Umbridge," Harry shot back. "Not anymore."
She stepped forward, her voice dripping with malice. "We shall see about that. I want you to tell me where Dumbledore is hiding. I know he's responsible for this rebellion. And if you do not, I will make sure you and your little group of rebels pay the price for defying me."
But Harry didn't flinch. "Dumbledore's gone, Umbridge. You're on your own now."
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say another word, turning away with a final flick of her wand. Harry couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. He wasn't going to let her win.
Later that evening, Harry sat in the library, brooding. It was then that he saw Cho Chang enter the room. She walked toward him, her expression uncertain.
"Harry," she said softly, "I need to talk to you."
He looked up, and for a moment, their eyes met, but he didn't speak. His anger over the whole situation made his words stick in his throat. But Cho pressed on, her voice trembling as she spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I should've never trusted Marietta. She was just scared. She didn't want to get into trouble. But I never meant for any of this to happen."
Harry took a deep breath, shaking his head. "You don't get it, Cho. I don't care about what Marietta did. I care about you. And the fact that you couldn't stand by me when it really mattered…"
She looked pained, but Harry couldn't find it in him to soften. "I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work. We can't be together if you can't trust me."
The words stung, but Cho didn't argue. She just nodded and walked away, her footsteps quiet as they echoed in the hall.
A few days later, as the pressure continued to mount, Ginny Weasley approached Brooklyn as they sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, her voice low. "I need to tell you something," Ginny said, her eyes flicking nervously toward the others in the room.
Brooklyn turned to her, a curious expression on her face. "What is it?"
Ginny hesitated for a moment before she finally spoke, her words coming out in a rush. "I… I like Harry. I know it's stupid, but it's true. And I know he's been through so much, but I just can't help the way I feel."
Brooklyn's heart softened as she looked at Ginny. It was clear that she cared about Harry deeply, and Brooklyn could understand that. She had spent enough time with both of them to see the connection, even if Harry was too distracted to see it himself.
"You should tell him, Ginny," Brooklyn said gently. "But do it when you're ready. He's been through a lot, and maybe he needs time to figure things out."
Ginny smiled, her face a little flushed. "Thanks, Brooklyn. I think you're right."
Brooklyn smiled back, watching as Ginny walked away. It was a quiet moment, but it spoke volumes. There was so much uncertainty in the air, but sometimes, the smallest gestures were the ones that made all the difference.
And as the days wore on, the pressure of the rebellion seemed to mount with each passing hour. Hogwarts was no longer a place of peace and wonder—it was a battlefield, and every step they took seemed to bring them closer to the edge.
The students were angry, but they were also united, and in the face of Umbridge's tyranny, they were beginning to realize just how powerful they could be. Even the staff, though reluctant to take action, couldn't ignore the power of the students' determination.
Fred and George had started something big. And the consequences—whatever they may be—were coming for all of them.
A few weeks later, the pranks and rabid behavior still going on, it was finally time for quidditch again. The locker room buzzed with the usual pre-game excitement, but today there was an added layer of anticipation in the air. The final match of the year was upon them—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and victory was just within reach. The team was ready; they had trained hard, and today was their day. But for Brooklyn, there was something else she had to say before they stepped out onto the pitch.
She had been putting it off, not wanting to distract her teammates before such an important match, but now the moment had come. She was about to tell them something huge—something that would change everything for her.
Taking a deep breath, Brooklyn looked around at her teammates, all of them either adjusting their gear or pacing nervously. She walked toward the center of the room, where they all paused and turned their attention to her.
"Hey, everyone," she began, trying to steady her voice. "Before we go out there, there's something I need to tell you all."
The room quieted immediately, the usual buzz of conversation dying down as everyone focused on her. Ron was already looking at her with a raised eyebrow, sensing that something was about to change.
Brooklyn hesitated for only a moment before blurting out, "I've signed a contract with the Holyhead Harpies."
The room went completely silent. Ginny, who had been adjusting her broomstick, froze, her eyes widening in shock. Angelina's jaw dropped, and Katie's face went pale with disbelief. Ron blinked at her, then blinked again, as if he couldn't quite process the words that had just left her mouth.
"Wait—what?" Ron asked, still trying to wrap his head around what he'd just heard.
"I'm going pro," Brooklyn repeated, her voice steady despite the excitement and nerves coursing through her. "After graduation, I'll be joining the Harpies."
A wave of stunned silence washed over them, and then, suddenly, the room erupted.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Ginny screamed, jumping up and down, her broom clutched tightly in her hands.
Katie and Angelina both lunged at Brooklyn, pulling her into a huge, tight hug. "This is incredible!" Angelina exclaimed, her voice muffled by Brooklyn's hair as she squeezed her tightly.
"I can't believe it!" Katie added, grinning from ear to ear. "The Holyhead Harpies, Brooklyn! You're going to be one of the best players in the league!"
Brooklyn couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. She'd expected some excitement, but the reaction from her teammates was overwhelming. They were thrilled for her, beyond thrilled.
Ron stepped forward, his eyes wide with excitement. "That's bloody amazing, Brooklyn! I mean, we always knew you were good, but this? You're going to be playing for one of the best teams in the league!"
Brooklyn nodded, still trying to take it all in herself. "Yeah, it's kind of surreal. But I had to tell you guys before the game, since… well, you're my team, and I wanted you to hear it from me first."
Ginny was bouncing on her feet now, completely caught up in the excitement. "This is like a dream come true for you, Brooklyn! You've worked so hard, and now it's all paying off."
Katie added, "You've always been amazing, but now everyone will know it. You're going to be one of the stars of the league."
Brooklyn's heart swelled as she looked around at all of them. She could feel the pride radiating from them, and it was overwhelming. They weren't just her teammates—they were her family.
Ron pulled her into a quick hug. "You've earned this, Brooklyn. You've always been the best Chaser on this team, and now you'll show the world."
"Don't forget us when you're playing in front of thousands of people," Ginny teased, a mischievous grin on her face. "We'll be in the stands, cheering for you."
Katie nodded. "We'll all be there, right? You won't have to worry about anything. We're with you all the way."
Brooklyn's heart fluttered at their words. "Thanks, guys. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me."
Just as she was about to say more, the door to the locker room banged open, and McGonagall entered, her stern expression softening when she saw the excited scene. "What's all this racket about?" she asked, though she clearly already knew the answer.
Brooklyn smiled. "Just sharing some news with my team."
McGonagall's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Well, I'm glad to see everyone in such good spirits. Now, if you're all finished with the happy news, let's get out there and make sure we finish this season with a victory."
The team cheered, and Brooklyn felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through her. With the weight of the announcement now lifted, she was more ready than ever to win the Quidditch Cup.
As the team made their way out onto the pitch, Brooklyn's heart was racing—not just because of the upcoming match, but because her future was now set in stone. The Holyhead Harpies were waiting for her after graduation, but for now, she was still a Gryffindor. And she was going to do everything she could to win this last game of the year with her team.
They flew onto the field, the crowd roaring with excitement, and Brooklyn felt the familiar thrill of competition rush through her.
As the game began, it was clear that Ravenclaw wasn't going to make things easy. Their chasers were skilled, their beaters precise, and their seeker, Cho Chang, was as determined as ever. Brooklyn darted around the pitch, narrowly dodging Bludgers as she kept her eyes on the Quaffle. Ginny was quick on her broom, racing through the air and scanning for the elusive golden Snitch, but Brooklyn knew it would take more than just Ginny's speed to secure the win.
Gryffindor had managed to score the first few goals, with Brooklyn pulling off a dazzling pass to Katie, who tossed the Quaffle right into the middle hoop. But Ravenclaw retaliated quickly, their chasers working together with speed and precision. Brooklyn could feel the pressure mounting as the score was neck and neck, and every pass, every shot, became more critical.
With each passing minute, the game grew more intense. Brooklyn was giving everything she had, but it wasn't enough to pull ahead. Ginny was doing her best to track Cho, but every time she thought she was getting close, the Ravenclaw seeker would pull ahead just a little more.
But then, it happened.
In the final moments of the game, with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tied, Brooklyn spotted a gap in the Ravenclaw defense. One of their chasers, distracted by a Bludger, left an opening just wide enough for Brooklyn to make her move. Without hesitating, she grabbed the Quaffle, launched herself forward with all her might, and flew toward the goalposts.
The wind whipped around her as she swerved to avoid the Bludger, only to see the Ravenclaw keeper gearing up for a save. But Brooklyn didn't hesitate. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the Quaffle soaring through the air, sending it straight into the topmost hoop. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Brooklyn couldn't help but pump her fist in victory.
But the game was far from over.
At that very moment, Ginny spotted the Snitch. Cho, only a few feet behind her, had no idea what was coming. Ginny's broom shot forward in a blur of red, and with one swift motion, she reached out and grabbed the golden ball, securing the final victory for Gryffindor.
The stands exploded in deafening applause, and the Gryffindor team cheered, their voices rising above the noise. Brooklyn hovered in the air, her heart racing with excitement as her teammates flew over to her, surrounding her in a flurry of high fives and hugs. They had done it. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup.
Ginny came up to Brooklyn, her face flushed with excitement. "We did it! We actually did it!"
Brooklyn grinned. "You were brilliant, Ginny! That was an amazing catch."
"And you," Ginny said with a teasing grin, "are an absolute legend with that goal."
The Gryffindor team gathered together in the middle of the pitch, celebrating their hard-fought victory. Even without Fred, George, and Harry, they had managed to pull together and win the Cup.
As Brooklyn floated to the ground, she could feel the exhaustion from the match setting in. Her body ached, her hands were sore, but the exhilaration of victory kept her going.
Ron, who had been spectacular as keeper throughout the match, was grinning ear to ear. "I thought I was going to pass out in there, but you all were amazing. We did it!"
Brooklyn laughed. "You were brilliant, Ron. Don't sell yourself short. You were the one keeping us in the game."
The team gathered their brooms, floating down toward the pitch, and Brooklyn couldn't help but feel a rush of pride. She had signed a contract with the Harpies, yes, but today was about Gryffindor. Today was about the team she had fought for, the team that had become like family to her over the years.
As the Gryffindor team stood together, the rest of the school's students began to pour out of the stands, heading toward them to congratulate them on their victory. Fred and George, even though they weren't playing, were in the front row, beaming with pride.
"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Brook," Fred said, grinning as he gave her a huge bear hug.
"You're gonna crush the pro leagues," George added, his voice full of admiration. as he added onto the hug.
The common room was quiet now, the energy of the match having faded into a comfortable buzz as students started to filter in to celebrate. The team had finally won the Quidditch Cup, and everyone was in high spirits, save for a small knot of nervousness that Brooklyn couldn't shake off. The excitement of her professional contract had settled a little, and now something else was weighing on her mind.
She was just about to sit down and join the others when Fred and George appeared at her side, looking serious—uncharacteristically so. Their usual playful smiles had faded, replaced by an expression Brooklyn hadn't seen from them before.
"Brooklyn," Fred said, nudging her gently as they guided her toward a quieter corner of the common room, away from the celebratory chaos.
"Sit down," George added, his voice unusually soft. "We need to talk to you."
She eyed them with curiosity, a little concerned by their serious tone. "What's going on?" she asked, wondering what could be so urgent that it pulled them away from the group.
Once they were seated in the corner, Fred glanced at George, who nodded. Fred took a deep breath, his expression now firm. "We've been meaning to tell you something, Brooklyn. Something big."
Brooklyn's heart skipped a beat. The twins had always been full of surprises, but the tone in their voices was different tonight. This wasn't just another prank or joke.
"What's going on?" she repeated, now more anxious than before.
George leaned forward slightly, his eyes flicking to Fred. "We've bought a shop."
Brooklyn blinked, stunned. "A shop?" she echoed, not sure if she'd heard them correctly.
Fred grinned, albeit more nervously than Brooklyn had ever seen him. "Yeah. We've been working on it for months now. And we've finally found the perfect location. It's going to be called 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,' just like what we are doing here, but bigger and it's going to be legendary."
Brooklyn's mouth dropped open as the news sank in. She had known Fred and George were clever—she'd always admired their entrepreneurial spirit—but this was beyond anything she had imagined. "That's... incredible!" she said, her voice filled with awe. "You two are seriously going to run your own shop? That's... that's amazing!"
But then, her excitement faded slightly when she noticed the look in their eyes—something that wasn't quite excitement, but something heavier. Fred and George exchanged another glance, before Fred spoke again.
"There's just one more thing we need to tell you, Brooklyn," he said slowly, his voice heavy with meaning.
"We're leaving Hogwarts."