"Thess, are you free?" Ginny popped her head into Thess's room early one morning.
"I am," Thess replied, a little confused—Ginny had never come into her room before, and it was a bit messy.
"Great," Ginny said, stepping in. "I'm heading to London to try and secure a new player, and I'd like you to come with me."
"Of course," Thess stood quickly, trying to discreetly shove some dirty clothes behind the bed. "But wouldn't it be better to take Estela or Amara?"
"No, for this particular person, I think it'll make a better impression if I bring you."
"Really?"
"I'll explain on the way. Let's go."
Thess followed Ginny down the hallway of the living quarters but was surprised when they didn't head down the stairs.
"I thought we were..."
"I have a shortcut."
Ginny led her to her office, where a few glowing embers still flickered in the fireplace, despite it being summer. She grabbed a bag of Floo Powder from the mantle.
"Alright, this might get a little tense," Ginny warned. "Can you be stealthy?"
"I think so," Thess answered, feeling a bit unsure.
"Good," said Ginny, stepping into the fireplace and extending her hand to Thess.
"Coach," Thess said, taking her hand and stepping into the fireplace, "I'm starting to feel a little worried."
"Don't be. Just follow me, stay quiet, and try not to make eye contact with anyone."
"Where are we going?"
Ginny threw the powder into the flames and called, "Home."
On the other side of the green fire, Thess found herself in a lovely, well-lit living room with wide open windows. Albus Severus Potter was lounging on the couch in his pajamas, reading a book.
"Hi, Albus," Thess greeted him.
"Mum!" Albus yelped, falling off the couch in shock. "Give me a warning when you bring people over!"
"Shh!" Ginny hushed him. "No one can know we've been here."
Albus pointed down the hallway, indicating for them to leave.
"Nice to see you, too," Thess muttered as they snuck past. She thought Albus responded with a gesture, but she didn't look back to see which one.
They tiptoed down the hallway, and suddenly, the first door swung open.
"Alby, the shower's free!" said a tall, handsome redhead—who was also very much underdressed.
Ginny put a hand to her forehead, clearly exasperated, while Thess's eyes widened.
"Hey, Mum. I thought you were at work. Who's your friend?"
"Not now, James," Ginny said, shoving him back into the bathroom. "Colloportus."
"Wait," James protested, wrestling with the locked doorknob, "I just wanted to introduce myself!"
"Come on," Ginny said, pulling Thess by the hand.
"Is your family always like this? Do they prefer being... naturalists?" Thess asked, half-joking.
"I blame global warming," Ginny sighed.
As they moved further down the hall, they passed another open door. Inside, a girl sat reading on her bed. She looked up as soon as she saw them.
"Hi, Thess."
"Hi, Lily."
"Mum said you signed with the Angels."
"I did."
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
"I'm trying out for Seeker in Gryffindor this year."
"Not now, Sweety," Ginny interrupted. "I'll take you to the Abbey later to see the team."
"See you around," Thess said as they hurried down the hall.
Finally, they reached the stairs, but a voice called out from the last room.
"Ginny, is that you?"
"No!" Ginny shouted back.
"Love, since you're home, could you just—"
Ginny slid down the banister, leaving Thess standing alone at the top.
"What are you waiting for?" Ginny called from below.
Thess shrugged and followed her.
Once they made it outside and closed the front door, Ginny let out a relieved sigh.
"What was that, Coach?" Thess asked, still bewildered.
"You'll understand when you're married and have kids," Ginny replied, opening the door to the parked Ford Anglia.
"Oh, I don't want to get married or have kids."
"Well, good luck with that."
"Thanks?" Thess mumbled, confused.
"Now get in the car."
"So, who are we going to recruit?" Thess asked as the two navigated through the bustling streets of London in Ginny's baby blue car.
"This guy," Ginny replied, pulling a copy of The Daily Prophet from the glove compartment and tossing it to her.
The headline read: Damon "Crash" Alder Expelled from the British and Irish Quidditch League for Doping.
"Are you serious?" Thess asked.
"The article's a bit sensationalist," Ginny grimaced. "The Prophet tends to lean that way when I'm not there. He hasn't been expelled yet—just suspended while they investigate."
The idea of doping seemed odd in a magical sport like Quidditch. Thess found herself wondering what kind of substance could enhance a player's performance in such a fantastical game.
"What did he take?" she asked.
"He's supposedly played under the influence of Felix Felicis."
Felix Felicis, also known as Liquid Luck, guarantees success in anything one does while under its effects. It's a potion that only the most skilled alchemists could brew, and it requires rare and expensive ingredients. Still, with the resources of a professional Quidditch player, it would certainly be within reach.
"Wow. That would guarantee anyone a win."
"Exactly. That's why the League strictly controls potion use among players. Felix Felicis is at the top of the banned list."
"So why hasn't he been expelled yet?"
"All players are tested before the game. So, supposedly, Damon entered the match clean. But after the game, he was randomly selected for a post-match test."
"That sounds... fishy."
"That's Damon's claim—that the post-game result was a setup and that he's being targeted."
"Alright," Thess said, putting the newspaper aside and turning toward Ginny, who was focusing on the road. "I've got two questions."
"Go on," Ginny said, intrigued.
"If he agrees to join our team, will he even be allowed to play?"
"Different leagues, different rules. So yes, he can play."
"Okay. Second question: do we want this guy on our team?"
Ginny sighed before answering. "This team is about giving chances to those who wouldn't get them elsewhere. Damon fits that profile."
"But do you trust him?"
"I've been in the League long enough to know that this kind of targeting happens. I've never seen a case go this far, but it's possible."
Thess still felt uneasy, though she had no solid counterargument. She cared about her teammates and worried about what someone like "Crash" could bring to the team. Even if he wasn't dangerous, the potential influence didn't sit right with her.
"I want to believe in him because I want to believe in the best of people," Ginny said, seeming to sense Thess's unspoken doubts. "And when it's a fight between individuals and institutions, I tend to side with the individuals. But I'm not naive. If he does something wrong, I'll know, and he'll be off the team. Until then, he deserves the same trust I give all of you."
"And if the investigation proves he's guilty?"
"In that case, I won't have a choice."
They pulled up in front of The Leaky Cauldron.
Diagon Alley had always been Thess's favorite tourist spot in London, and every visit was an opportunity to explore and get lost in the windows of magical shops. As she and Ginny walked, Thess cast longing looks at each storefront they passed, secretly hoping the coach would notice and, out of mercy, let her take a quick look inside. But Ginny kept walking with firm determination, as if on a mission.
"And how are your brothers?" Thess asked hopefully as they passed by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Perhaps the mention of family would strike a nostalgic chord and Ginny might pause for a moment.
"They're fine, at least I think so. Why? Have they done something?"
"No, not at all. Just curious."
But Ginny wasn't distracted and continued walking until they stopped in front of the dullest building on the street. It was a gray structure, with brutalist architecture, and utterly lacking charm, except for a sign that read: The Daily Prophet.
Inside, the newsroom was an organized chaos of shouting voices, people running back and forth, and the constant scratching of quills. Owls flew between desks, carrying messages, and parchment stacked high on every available surface. Wizards seemed to resist technology like email, clinging to old-fashioned methods of communication.
Ginny was stopped only once by a distracted security guard, who quickly let her through once he realized who she was. Ginny greeted him warmly, asking about his family.
"We miss you here, Mrs. Potter," he said.
"The editorial quality is missing too, judging by this," Ginny replied, waving the article about Crash's suspension in her hand.
The whole way through the office was like that, with almost every person they encountered stopping to chat with Ginny, slowing their pace considerably.
"Come to ask for your old job back, Potter?" a man with an authoritative voice said.
"Not this time, Dennis," Ginny replied, smiling and hugging the man. "Just here to see Marcus."
"Really? Out of all the people here, it's Marcus who deserves a visit?"
"Don't be jealous. And if it makes you feel better, this is a visit with an ulterior motive."
"And who's this?" he asked, turning his attention to Thess. "I'd guess it's Lily since every time I see her, she's grown another four inches, but last I checked, she inherited your hair."
"This is Thessaly. Thess, this is Dennis Creevey, editor-in-chief and my old Gryffindor housemate."
"Pleasure to meet you," Thess said, extending her hand.
"Thessaly Wyrmwood?"
Thess nodded.
"Girl, we've got a story with your name on it, something about how your career was almost wrecked by sensationalist reporting."
"Really?" Ginny asked indignantly, hands on her hips. "And whose fault was that?"
"I don't know what you're implying," Dennis said, raising his hands in defense. "But if Thessaly would honor us with an interview, I'm sure we could clear up any misunderstandings."
"Maybe another time," Ginny replied. "Where's Marcus?"
"In the studio, working."
"I need to see him now."
"He's with Damon Alder. He wouldn't even let me in."
"Tell him I'm here and I've brought someone he'll want to meet."
Thess felt that wasn't a good sign.
"Ginny, my love," Marcos greeted them, his voice dripping with charm. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit? Have you finally decided to pose for me?"
"I'm far too old for that," Ginny replied with a playful smirk.
"But you still have the shape. As much as I think Quidditch is a waste of time, I must admit, it sculpts a woman's body like nothing else."
"He's got a point," Thess added, glancing at the coach and reminding herself that Ginny was over forty and had three children.
Marcos was an eccentric figure, even by wizarding standards. He dressed like a sorcerer—not the type Thess was used to, with a beard, robes, and a pointed hat—but more like a wizard from a Japanese action RPG: extravagant. Elegant, but undeniably extravagant.
The studio was a large room with bare walls, plenty of lighting, and various photography equipment. Marcos and his two assistants were in the middle of a photoshoot with a model.
"Actually," Ginny said, cutting to the point, "we're here to talk to Damon."
"No time for interviews today, Potter," the model said dismissively.
And that's when Thess's jaw dropped. Damon Alder was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she had ever seen.
To be fair, everyone on the team had their own charm, but Damon's beauty was on another level—an indisputable level. He had the kind of face and body that looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine, honed to physical perfection in a way only professional athletes could achieve. Marcos clearly knew this and made sure to highlight Damon's muscular physique, leaving much of his smooth, dark skin exposed and slicked with oil to emphasize his flawless body.
"Close your mouth, Wood," Ginny muttered.
"Sorry, coach."
"After all my contracts were canceled, modeling is the only income I have left," Damon said, stepping out of the powerful lights of the set and taking a seat in the corner, while one of the assistants handed him a small portable fan to cool off.
"Well, you're in luck. That's exactly what I want to talk about," Ginny replied, approaching him. "I've got a spot for you to get back in the game."
"I heard you'd gone mad and taken up coaching," he said, sitting down while casually fanning himself. "Sorry, but the Quaffle Cup is way beneath my level."
"Are you really in a position to turn down an offer?"
"Like I said, I'm busy."
"Actually," Marcos chimed in, "you're mine for the next two hours, and I'd be happy to give Mrs. Potter here five minutes of that time if she'll let me take a few shots of this little beauty that's accompanying her."
Only then did Thess notice the hungry look Marcos was giving her.
"Ginny?" Thess asked, suddenly uneasy.
"Marcos," Ginny interrupted, "I want you to meet Thessaly Wyrmwood."
"Really? I had no idea. Look at you, an actual Veela. And that nose—so much character."
Thess wasn't sure if "character" was referring to the scar or the outcome of the unintended rhinoplasty Madame Pomfrey had performed on her.
"In that case," Marcos grinned, "I'll up my offer to ten minutes."
"Ginny," Thess whispered, "I'm not really comfortable with this."
"Just a minute, please," Ginny said to Marcos, guiding Thess to the side. "I know Marcos seems intimidating, but I promise he's harmless."
"I've never done this before."
"Well, sooner or later you'll have to. This kind of work is the second-largest source of income for professional athletes, sometimes the first."
"Have you done it?" Thess asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ginny made a face. "Look, I had James when I was quite young and…"
Thess stared at her incredulously.
"Alright, alright. I've got a few old magazines at home. I'll bring them to show you."
"I'm still not sure about this," Thess said hesitantly.
That's when Ginny placed both hands on her shoulders and delivered the final, undeniable argument.
"Do it for the team."
"Fine," Thess sighed in defeat and nodded "but no one's putting oil on me."
"I promise," Ginny said, beaming.