The next few months passed quickly, the bustle of school life and constant pranking keeping everyone busy. Brooklyn, Fred, and George's bond grew stronger as the trio, now firmly entrenched as the Crimson Terrors, spent almost every moment together. The twins had even started calling Brooklyn "Brookie," a nickname that both irritated and delighted her. It was endearing, in a way, but it also felt like a small symbol of how much they had come to mean to each other.
Brooklyn didn't mind, though—she was starting to feel like part of their family. The twins were always there to crack jokes when things got tough, pulling her into pranks and distracting her from the reality of what was going on back home. They weren't just mischievous partners; they were her friends, her safe space. And it felt good.
Angelina, too, had become someone Brooklyn leaned on. The two spent hours talking, laughing, and confiding in one another. They had a lot in common, both determined to prove themselves in a world that often underestimated them because of their gender. Angelina's fiery spirit and Brooklyn's more reserved nature complemented each other perfectly, and the two girls quickly became inseparable.
They were also joined by another girl from their dorm, Alicia Spinnet, who was quick to fit in with the group. Alicia was cheerful, sweet, and outgoing, and she had an infectious enthusiasm that balanced out the more serious and sarcastic aspects of Brooklyn's personality. The trio became the tight-knit trio of their dorm, always huddled together, whether they were discussing homework or trying to figure out how to prank the boys.
One evening, as the three girls sat in their dorm, the fire crackling softly in the corner, the conversation turned to something more personal.
"So," Alicia said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Have you two noticed how George has been acting around you lately, Angelina?"
Angelina's cheeks turned a soft pink, and she looked away, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "I've noticed," she admitted softly, but her voice lacked its usual confidence. "I think... I think I might like him."
Alicia's eyes widened. "What? Really? That's so cute! Oh my God, you two would be perfect together!" She clasped her hands together, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "George has been so different lately! He's always teasing you, but you can tell there's something more there. I mean, who else is going to survive a prank war with him?"
Angelina laughed nervously, the color still high in her cheeks. "I don't know. I think I've just been thinking about it more lately, especially with how close we've gotten." She sighed, resting her chin on her knees as she stared into the fire. "But he's... he's always joking around. I'm not sure if he sees me that way."
Alicia was practically bouncing in her seat, her wide smile infectious. "Are you kidding? Of course he does! You two are always together, laughing, talking. If he doesn't know, he's either blind or pretending not to notice."
Brooklyn stayed silent, her book in her lap forgotten as she listened to the conversation. She could tell that Angelina was nervous, but Alicia's gushing and support seemed to lift her spirits. Brooklyn smiled softly, but there was a feeling in her chest that she didn't quite understand. It was a strange, tight knot in her stomach, something that felt a little like jealousy.
She couldn't quite place it. She wasn't jealous of George, certainly not. He was a friend, one of the best she'd ever had. And yet, she felt a pang in her chest, something uncomfortable and strange as Alicia continued to gush over how cute Angelina and George would be together.
"Right, but do you think... do you think he would feel the same?" Angelina asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alicia grinned widely. "I think he'd be a fool not to. You're amazing, Angie."
Brooklyn felt her throat tighten. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt this way, but the thought of George and Angelina together stirred something in her. It wasn't that she liked George—of course not—but there was an odd sense of protectiveness that came with knowing how close they were.
It was silly. She knew it was silly. But that tight knot in her stomach wouldn't go away.
"I think you should tell him, Angie," Brooklyn said quietly, breaking her silence. She wasn't sure if she meant the words as encouragement or just to push the conversation forward, but she hoped it helped in some way. "You won't know unless you do."
Angelina nodded, though she still looked nervous. "Maybe you're right. I just... I don't want to mess things up. With him being my best friend and all..."
Alicia placed a hand on Angelina's shoulder, her smile softening. "You won't mess anything up, I promise. But I think you should just tell him. See what happens. You never know."
Brooklyn forced a smile, even as that strange feeling lingered. It wasn't her place to be feeling this way. They were all friends, and she wanted the best for Angelina. But that twinge of jealousy—a feeling she wasn't used to—was making everything feel just a little bit more complicated.
"I think that's a good idea," Brooklyn said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "You deserve to be happy, Angie."
Angelina smiled back at her, a little less uncertain now. "Thanks, Brooklyn."
As the night wore on and the fire flickered down to embers, Brooklyn couldn't shake the odd sensation. It was a feeling that left her confused, as if something inside her was slowly shifting, but she couldn't quite make sense of it. Maybe it was nothing. After all, she didn't like George—right?
But deep down, she wasn't so sure anymore.
As the weeks passed, Brooklyn's flying skills improved at an astonishing rate. Every morning, before the rest of the school woke up, she would sneak down to the pitch to practice with the Griffindor team, broom in hand. Charlie had been training her steadily, pushing her to refine her technique, teaching her the finer points of controlling the quaffle, and introducing her to more advanced moves. She was a natural on the broom—quick, agile, and with an innate sense of the game's rhythm. She felt like she was meant to be there, gliding through the air.
Charlie had also become more than just a coach to her. He had always been supportive, kind, and patient, but as the days passed, Brooklyn began to see him as something more—an older brother. He was always there when she needed guidance, a steady hand that kept her grounded in the midst of her growing skill. They had long conversations, often about her dreams, her family, and his experiences on the Gryffindor team. He'd let her ask all the questions she wanted, and though he'd sometimes tease her about her over-zealousness, there was a genuine warmth in his actions, a reassurance that she belonged in this world, that she had potential beyond what she could yet imagine.
One day, as Brooklyn was practicing some complicated maneuvers with the quaffle, Charlie stood at the sidelines, his arms crossed, watching her with the same quiet admiration he had since their first training session. She had grown used to his presence by now, and it gave her a boost of confidence to know he was watching. It made her feel like she wasn't just practicing for herself—she was training to make him proud too.
After she finished a set of drills, Charlie called her down, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "That was good, Brooklyn. You're getting better every day. I think you're going to be a real asset to the team next year."
Brooklyn beamed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Thanks, Charlie. I really want to be ready. I want to show everyone I can do it."
"You will," he said with a nod. "Just don't overwork yourself. We've still got time before the tryouts."
Brooklyn nodded, her heart light with the praise. As she was about to walk over to the broom shed to put away her broom, she heard some voices coming from across the field. She recognized the voice of Adrian Pucey, one of the Slytherin first years who loved to bother her. He was one of those students who seemed to get a sick pleasure out of picking on others, especially anyone who wasn't in his circle.
"What's this? The Weasley's little pet on the pitch?" Adrian sneered, his voice loud enough for Brooklyn to hear as he and his group of friends approached her.
Brooklyn felt a prickle of unease. She had never been one to stand up to bullies, but she was growing tired of the constant remarks about her family and their reputation. Still, she kept her head down, focusing on the broom shed, hoping the confrontation would pass.
"I heard you've been hanging around with the Weasley twins a lot," Adrian continued, his tone dripping with disdain. "You sure you're not just trying to get some attention? Maybe you're not good enough to be a chaser, but you could be their little mascot or something."
Brooklyn felt the insult hit her like a slap, the sting of his words rattling her composure. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, but she clenched her fists, reminding herself that she wasn't about to let him see her upset. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
"Adrian," she said, her voice steady despite the tightening knot in her stomach, "Why don't you go away and leave me alone?"
Adrian took a step forward, sneering. "What's wrong, too scared to stand up for yourself? Too busy trying to keep up with the Weasley's little games?"
Before Brooklyn could respond, a voice rang out, loud and commanding.
"Pucey, I suggest you take a few steps back. Now."
It was Charlie, striding across the pitch with his prefect badge gleaming in the sunlight. His face was set in a hard expression, the kind he wore when he was serious. Adrian looked up, momentarily surprised to see Charlie, but his smug grin didn't falter.
"Don't you have something better to do, Weasley?" Adrian sneered, clearly not intimidated.
Charlie didn't waste a second. "You've been bullying her long enough, Pucey. I'm taking points from Slytherin for your behavior. Five points for the insults and another five for disturbing the practice session."
The group of Slytherins around Adrian looked shocked. "What? You can't—" Adrian started to protest, but Charlie cut him off, his voice firm.
"I can, and I will. You have a habit of making people feel small, and I'm tired of it. You'll leave Brooklyn alone, or I'll make sure you regret it."
Adrian's face darkened, but he said nothing more, realizing that arguing with a prefect wasn't going to end in his favor. He shot Brooklyn one last glare before turning and storming off, his friends following behind him, clearly not pleased with the situation.
As the Slytherins disappeared from sight, Charlie turned to Brooklyn, his expression softening. "You okay?"
Brooklyn nodded, still a little shaken, but feeling a rush of relief. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Charlie. I… I didn't know what to do."
Charlie gave her a reassuring smile and ruffled her hair. "You don't need to do anything when I'm around. I'm not going to let anyone treat you like that." He placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice warm but stern. "You're part of the team now, even if not officially, Brooklyn. I'm not going to let anyone get away with that kind of crap, especially not from someone like him."
It solidified the bond between them, and Brooklyn felt grateful. Grateful for the friendship, for the guidance, and for the feeling of safety that came with having someone in her corner. She was starting to truly understand what it meant to be part of a family.
As the school year drew to a close, the tension in the air was palpable. The final feast was underway, and the four house banners hung proudly in the Great Hall—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. But, as had become the unfortunate tradition, it was Slytherin's banner that dominated the room once more. Gryffindor had put up a good fight throughout the year, but in the end, it wasn't enough.
Charlie, seated at the Gryffindor table, had his usual look of frustration. He slumped a little in his seat, arms crossed, and muttered under his breath.
"Eight years in a row," he complained, shaking his head. "We're never going to hear the end of this from those slimy Slytherins."
Brooklyn, sitting next to him, tried to suppress a smile. She had gotten used to Charlie's grumbling over the past year, especially when it came to the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. But even she had to admit that it had been a close race, and it had been a hard-fought year. Still, there was a lingering sadness in the air as everyone realized the year was ending, and that meant saying goodbye.
The thought of saying goodbye to her friends made Brooklyn's stomach tighten with unease. She had grown so close to the twins, Angelina, and Lee over the past months, and the thought of not seeing them every day felt like a heavy weight on her chest. She had never experienced a friendship like this before—so real, so comforting—and the idea of it being interrupted by the summer break filled her with dread.
"Don't worry, Brookie," Fred said, nudging her as they sat together in the hall. "You'll survive the summer without us. And we'll make sure you're properly entertained."
Brooklyn managed a small laugh, though it didn't fully mask the sadness in her voice. "I'm not worried about surviving," she admitted, glancing at each of them. "I just... I don't like the idea of not seeing you all for so long."
Lee, who had been quietly eating next to her, looked up and grinned. "Don't worry, we won't forget you," he teased. "Just don't hit your head and forget us when you get back next year."
Brooklyn chuckled, though her mind wandered to the long summer ahead. "I won't forget you," she said softly, her voice almost distant. She had a lot to look forward to, but it was the emptiness of the break that weighed on her heart.
Angelina, who had been listening, reached over and gave Brooklyn a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll write," she said, squeezing Brooklyn's hand. "And I expect letters from you too. Lots of them."
Brooklyn smiled gratefully, feeling a warmth in her chest at the thought. "I'll write," she promised. "And... I'll miss you."
Fred, with his usual cheeky grin, leaned in and gave Brooklyn a wink. "Don't worry, we'll send you plenty of stink bombs to make sure you're never bored. Special delivery, just for you."
Brooklyn couldn't help but laugh at the thought, her heart lightening despite the impending goodbye. The Weasley twins always knew how to make her smile, even when she didn't feel like it.
The final moments of the year seemed to drag on, and as the last of the students filed out of the Great Hall to head to the carriages that would take them back to the station, Brooklyn found herself standing at the entrance, looking at her friends one last time. Charlie clapped her on the back, grinning, though his eyes were tinged with that familiar sense of frustration that came with yet another lost House Cup.
"We'll get them next year," he said, trying to sound upbeat.
"I'm sure we will," Brooklyn replied, her voice full of conviction. "I know we will."
Fred and George were already plotting their summer mischief, though their eyes softened when they looked at Brooklyn.
"Take care of yourself, Brookie," George said, his tone suddenly more serious than Brooklyn was used to.
Fred added with a wink, "And don't let anyone tell you what to do, okay?"
"I won't," she promised, smiling at them both. "I'll be fine. I'll be counting down the days until next year."
With one last wave, the twins disappeared into the crowd, off to join their brothers, leaving Brooklyn standing there with her heart full of conflicting emotions. She felt a pang of sadness, but there was also hope. Hope that this wasn't just the end of the year—it was the start of something even bigger.
As she boarded the train with her friends, the familiar clatter of the Hogwarts Express beneath her feet, Brooklyn felt a sense of contentment. They had all made it through their first year together, and while the summer would be long and quiet, she knew they would come back next year, stronger and closer than ever.
However, she had no idea that her life was going to be torn apart that summer.
Brooklyn stepped off the train and into the bustling station, her heart still aching from the goodbyes at Hogwarts. She could already feel the weight of the long summer stretching out before her, but at least she had something to look forward to now. She was heading home to see her family—her mom, her siblings—and especially her new baby sister, Mia, who had been born just a few weeks before the end of school.
As she made her way through the crowded platform, her thoughts shifted from the heaviness of her first year at Hogwarts to the joy she hoped would come with meeting Mia. She had only seen her in the letters and photos her mother had sent, but now, finally, she would be able to hold her.
Her heart fluttered with excitement as she made her way to the tube, which would take her home. When she arrived at the house, there was a strange quiet in the air—a silence that felt off, out of place.
"Mom?" Brooklyn called out as she walked through the door, setting down her trunk. The house was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon light. The usual warmth wasn't there.
From the hallway, her mother's voice called out, a little strained. "In the living room, Brooklyn."
Brooklyn's pulse quickened as she walked in, but the sight of her mother holding baby Mia in her arms caught her off guard. Mia was small, even for a newborn, but her wide, curious eyes made Brooklyn's heart swell.
"Hey, little one," Brooklyn whispered softly as she knelt beside her mother. She reached out to gently touch Mia's tiny hand, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. A rush of relief washed over her. She had missed so much of her baby sister's early life, but now, she could finally be here for her.
Her mother smiled faintly, her eyes tired but soft. "She's growing so fast already. I can't believe how much she's changed in just a few weeks."
Brooklyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak for a moment, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She had longed to meet Mia, to feel this connection, and now that it was happening, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
But before she could say anything more, a sound caught her attention. She heard the scuffling of feet in the hallway, followed by a weak voice.
"Brooklyn?"
She turned to find Ryan and Emily standing in the doorway, their faces pale and drawn. Emily had a hand pressed to her side, and Ryan's usual bright eyes were dull, a shadow of pain hanging in the air. As they stepped into the room, Brooklyn's breath caught in her throat.
They were covered in bruises—dark, purple marks that streaked across their arms and legs, visible even through the fabric of their clothes. Brooklyn's chest tightened at the sight, a deep knot of dread twisting in her stomach. What had happened to them?
"Ryan, Emily," she whispered, rushing to their side. Her fingers gently brushed against Emily's arm, which flinched at the contact, and then moved to Ryan's shoulder. "What happened? Why are you two covered in bruises?"
Ryan opened his mouth to speak but faltered, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Emily was the one to answer, her voice quieter than usual, hollow.
"It's nothing, Brookie. We're fine. Just... don't worry about it," she said, but Brooklyn could tell it was a lie. Her voice trembled as if she were holding back tears.
Brooklyn's stomach twisted with concern. "No. This isn't nothing. What's going on?"
Her mother, who had been watching the scene unfold, gave Brooklyn a tired look. She said nothing at first, but her silence spoke volumes. She knew. She had to know. Brooklyn's heart sank as she realized her mother had probably been too overwhelmed with Mia and the chaos at home to notice what had been happening to her other children.
Brooklyn clenched her fists, trying to keep the anger from bubbling to the surface. She wanted to scream, to shout at her father, to demand answers. But she couldn't. Not in front of her siblings. Not when they were so fragile.
She drew a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "You don't have to protect him anymore. I'm here now. I'll help you," she said softly, taking Ryan's hand in hers and pulling Emily closer. "You're not alone."
Her mother didn't speak, but Brooklyn could see the shame and guilt on her face. It was hard for Brooklyn to reconcile the woman she had always thought of as gentle and loving with the woman who had let this go on for so long.
The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. She wiped them away angrily, frustrated at herself for feeling so helpless.
As she held her siblings close, the promise she had made to herself when she left for Hogwarts echoed in her mind: she would protect them. No matter what it took.
She would protect them.