O
PHTHONOS
Suspicion
December
Hope was going to kill James Potter. The fact that she wasn't the intended target was neither here nor there. She shouldn't have even been in his flat that evening, had only popped over to collect a book for Roxanne because she was early for work. He had been getting ready to meet someone for dinner - a Hufflepuff girl from his school year whose name Hope didn't recognise. Neil had been at home too, thoroughly disgruntled. It seemed that he had wanted to ask this girl out as well. According to James, however, he always respected the friend code and this particular date was not in breach of it. Unwilling to get involved, Hope had merely accepted James's offer of a cold drink and listened to them bicker for fifteen minutes, before heading down Diagon Alley to The Leaky Cauldron.
The juice had passed straight through her and she had made a beeline for the toilets on arrival, but had not thought much of it. It was only after twenty further minutes of serious and unrelievable discomfort that suspicions began to dawn. She took out her Wiznote and scribbled a line to James.
"Tell me the truth. Did you put something in my drink?"
His reply was surprisingly quick for someone who was on a date. Maybe it wasn't going well.
"What? Of course not."
"Sure? Because right now I feel like I've consumed the entire Hogwarts lake."
Quite a long pause this time, then:
"What did you drink at mine?"
"Pumpkin juice. You offered me one, remember?"
"Please tell me you took it from the cooler cupboard."
"No, it was in a glass on the counter. I thought you'd already poured it out."
His horrified scrawls came through seconds later.
"I swear it was meant for Neil, not you. He kept threatening to gatecrash my date so I wanted to keep him occupied. I dissolved a Ur-In-Trouble in his drink and you must have taken it by mistake. I'm so sorry."
Hope stared down at her Wiznote in utter disbelief. James had an important job, his own flat, the highest salary and the most active dating life of any of her friends. How did he still have the mental age of a four year old?
"You are the worst human being I've ever known. How do I fix it?"
"You can't. I'm really sorry. It's not like the snackboxes - there's no reversal chew. You just have to flush it out. Might take 2-3 hours."
"Hours? I'm working all night."
"Err... commandeer a cubicle for a bit? Or make an excuse and head home?"
"I can't camp out in the Leaky Cauldron toilets! And Roxanne has friends round at ours."
"Floo is probably a bad idea anyway - not exactly smooth travel is it?"
"Prick. You are such a fucking prick."
"Hope, I'm truly sorry. I feel awful. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
The remorse appeared genuine, but that was not going to help her for the moment
"Um. Are you feeling OK?" Michael asked her discreetly, after her fifth disappearance.
"Yep." She flicked her wand at two abandoned whisky glasses, and they soared neatly into the washer jets in the corner. She was getting much better at the tidying spells and there had been no breakages for at least a week now.
"If you're not well, you can head home," he continued. "It's not busy tonight."
"No. All good." She figured she could get through the shift with minimal disruption if she kept her bathroom visits to once every half an hour, and stayed well away from the washer jets.
Ten minutes later it had become clear this plan was not going to work. Michael was looking sympathetic as she returned yet again.
"Hope, it's really fine if you need to go home."
"Look, it's not what you think, OK?" Hope burst out. "I haven't got food poisoning or anything. And it's all James Potter's stupid fault anyway."
She was determined not to cry here, but the tears tried to force their way through nevertheless. There were more embarrassing pranks to fall foul of, she supposed (Ur-In-Dire-Troubles sprang to mind) but this one was up there too. Being stuck at work as opposed to the privacy of her own flat was doubly upsetting, and the lack of control over her predicament, above all, was starting to panic her. She had not been doing well lately with situations beyond her control.
Michael was looking so concerned that in the end she relented and explained.
"… and there's nothing I can do except wait until it's - you know - gone," she finished. "Apparently that could take hours. And it's not funny," she added, glaring down at the rag she was holding.
"I'm not laughing," he protested. "Seriously, why don't you go home?"
"Rox has a load of work mates over for drinks," Hope muttered. "Although I don't know what's more embarrassing at this stage."
"You don't need to be embarrassed," Michael said, sounding surprised. "If you don't want to go home you can go upstairs for a bit. There's no one in. Why don't you hang out in my room until you feel better? You know the bathroom is opposite."
Hope wanted to refuse but she wasn't really in a position to be stubborn. It would be even more humiliating to stay down here.
She mounted the stairs out the back of the pub that led to the Longbottoms' own home. Hidden amidst the muggle houses and joined to The Leaky Cauldron by a small passage and staircase, it was spread over several floors. A small kitchen and dining room that wasn't often used was on the first floor, a sitting room that led out onto a hidden garden terrace on the second. Hannah and Neville's room, and presumably a couple of guest rooms, were on the third floor, with Michael's room at the top.
She pushed open the door and surveyed the room. She had been there many times as a child but never recently, and it had changed somewhat since her last visit. There were far fewer toys scattered around, although his faded old bear was still on the tartan bed cover and the flying dragon now sat in pride of place on the tall bookshelf. The room was tidy without being too neat, with pale blue walls, thick grey curtains and a corduroy sofa chair in the corner. A faint smell of aftershave hung in the air.
Michael's desk spanned most of the left hand wall, and above it was an equally long notice board, like the one Cadmus had owned but more colourful, with bright posters and tickets pinned to it. A large photo of all the Gryffindor graduates - presumably taken on their last day at school - hung on the wall too. Twenty-seven of them, when their year had only had ten Ravenclaws in total. Hope supposed the Sorting Hat had no control over how many brave, chivalrous people were born in a given year. It could have been twenty-eight Gryffindors and nine Ravenclaws, she sighed to herself, if only she'd let the hat sort her into its first choice. How different would her life have been if so? Would she have made an equal mess of things? Or would she be happier in general?
One of the many questions she would never know the answer to.
Unable to put off retreating to the bathroom any longer, Hope snatched up a book at random from Michael's shelf and hurried across the hall. She might as well stay there, instead of going back and forth every five minutes.
Thankfully the time needed for the unfortunate effects to wear off seemed to have been overestimated, and it was only an hour later that Hope went to replace the book in Michael's room, still furious with James, but finally comfortable.
She paused again to look more closely at Michael's notice board. There was an old map of London, a couple of quidditch posters and numerous postcards. A few photos were stuck to the far end: a family portrait; an old photo of his paternal grandparents, Frank and Alice; one of Michael with Luna - his godmother - sitting astride an enormous roan hippogriff; another one of him holding a baby. Hope thought it might Grace Finch-Fletchley, Susan's daughter.
Hope's younger self beamed and waved back at her from a group photo taken at her own parent's vow renewal, from a time before the Narcoviral Curse, before Dom and Roxanne had gone away, before her downward spiral, before Cadmus… Hope hurriedly turned her attention to the large square print of Michael and Beth Fitzpatrick - former captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team - in which they were both wearing ridiculous matching fancy dress costumes and collapsing into hysterics about something. The final photo on the board was one of Esme sitting on Michael's shoulders, laughing even as her eyes betrayed abject terror. Although as Esme was only five feet tall and built like a twig, Hope doubted Michael had struggled to keep her up there safely.
They had been such a lovely couple, she thought idly, wondering why they had broken up. Then, feeling like she had intruded on someone else's personal space for too long, she made her way downstairs.
She avoided Michael's gaze as she slipped back in behind the bar. Whatever he said, he must be laughing at her underneath the sympathetic exterior.
"Better?"
"Yes. Look," she added, before he could continue. "Can we not talk about it, so I can forget this whole thing as soon as possible?"
"Sure, but I told you, there's no reason for you to be embarrassed. If anyone should be, it's James. I mean Ur-In-Troubles? Is he eight?"
"Four, mentally, I think," Hope corrected him. The sting of humiliation was lessening. She wasn't sure why it had been there in the first place. She had been in similar situations before and dealt with them cheerfully enough. But that had been before Adam, who had always managed to induce shame in her for not being a perfect, flawless creature without a single bodily function. As for Cadmus, he would have been capable of slipping her the damn thing out of spite, Hope thought savagely. Then demanding to know why she was spending so much time in the toilet.
"If it helps, I've been given one before too." Michael seemed to have interpreted her brooding silence over her former failed relationships as continued mortification.
Hope looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he was making that up, but he looked serious.
"By who? Surely not James? You're one of the few people he actually respects."
James had always held Neville in the highest of esteem, and this reverent attitude extended to his wife and son.
He shook his head.
"Beth. In third year. She's probably my best friend of all the Gryffindors now, but back then I was her primary target for practical jokes." Hope was aware that Beth was almost as bad as her former fellow beater in that regard, although she had thankfully never been on the receiving end of one. "Tricked me into eating one in potions."
"We wanted to give Elodie one in potions once!" Hope exclaimed, remembering all the way back to their retaliation trick in her first year. "Because Leppard was so strict. Dom wouldn't let us though, said it was too mean."
"Dom has a heart of gold," Michael said. "Would have been a fair punishment for Elodie after the way she treated her. I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve it, I have to say."
"So what happened?"
"I waited until the end of double potions then went to the bathroom." Michael shrugged nonchalantly.
Hope gaped at him.
"You lasted until the end of a double lesson?"
He was already grinning.
"No. 'Course I didn't. Twenty minutes in I was in so much pain even Beth was feeling guilty, so I made her cauldron explode with slime when Leppard came over to check on us, and slipped out while she was getting the gunk out of her eyes. But there aren't any bathrooms at dungeon level." Michael hesitated. "Let's just say I found somewhere else. I decided as it was Beth's fault I had no reason to feel ashamed of it. She did actually apologize, and I told her that was quite alright, but if she ever did something like that again I'd slip her one before a quidditch match." He contemplated this. "Odd… that I was never her target again after that, isn't it?"
Hope realised she was laughing. Properly laughing, as opposed to the forced humor she had been dealing out for a long time now. It was a bizarre and wonderful sensation at the same time.
"So instead of getting embarrassed," Michael finished, replacing two glasses in their spot and turning to face her. "Why don't you try and get even?"
O
James came round to their flat the following morning, tail between his legs, carrying a huge box of chocolates and an envelope.
"I'm really, really sorry," he said to Hope, yet again.
"What's that?" Roxanne had come out from her room to watch him grovel. Dom was standing behind her, eyebrows raised and arms folded. Both had been told about the incident and neither were impressed. James's nervous look of shame increased.
"Chocolates. A Honeydukes Deluxe selection box. And a voucher for Whitby's."
"Hmm." Roxanne's expression didn't change.
"There's enough on there for you all of you. Even if you get extra large ones and desserts."
"I guess you're forgiven then," Hope said sweetly, taking it from him as Roxanne nodded her approval. "How was your date?"
"Good, actually," he said, following her into the living room. "Knew her a bit at school so there wasn't too much awkward small talk. And I'm seeing her again next Saturday. Neil will be away this time, so hopefully she can come back to mine. She seemed keen yesterday but I wasn't chancing it with him around."
"Gross," Hope muttered. "We do not need to know abut your sexual exploits, thank you."
"I have never exploited anyone," James said indignantly. "It's not my fault if girls find me irresistible."
Roxanne, who had already opened the chocolates, selected a large white swirl and let out a disparaging laugh before tasting it.
"Sorry, but how someone of your maturity level convinces that many girls to sleep with you is beyond me."
"Want to know the secret?" James asked.
"Not remotely interested."
"Super king sized bed."
"Excuse me?"
"Super king sized bed. And a ton of comfortable pillows. The second they see it they want to spend the night."
He looked at his watch as Roxanne mimed vomiting to Dom.
"I have to go - I'm having lunch with my parents." He looked imploringly at Hope. "You sure we're OK? I felt really bad last night."
"We're fine. It was manageable in the end." Hope had actually felt better than she had in a long time after laughing about it with Michael, but she wasn't going to tell James that.
"We're still going to get back at him, aren't we?" Roxanne asked later that evening, as they sat amidst the remains of several large pizzas and a mountain of nevermelting ice cream, washed down with the chocolates. Hope was feeling sick but they were too good to stop eating.
"Oh, I dunno," she said half heartedly. "He did seem really sorry." She didn't have the energy for grudges, not even fake ones between family members.
"He hasn't suffered for it though, has he?" Dom protested, and Hope grinned to herself. Dom may have a heart of gold but this particular incident was apparently unforgiveable in her eyes.
"His Gringotts vault might have - these are the most expensive chocolates Honeydukes sell."
Roxanne snorted. "Wouldn't matter, the salary he's on now. Come on, Dom's normally the soft one. You can't let him get off this easily. We have to do something!"
"OK, fine." Hope relented. "Nothing toilet related though, that's for sure. And I don't think we'll get away with one of your dad's pranks. He'll see through them straight away."
"Could try Rigolino?" Dom suggested, turning to Roxanne, who screwed up her nose with doubt.
"What's Rigolino?" Hop enquired.
"It's another joke brand - think it started in Spain but it's huge worldwide. They had them everywhere in Australia. Not as good as the Wheeze or even Zonkos which is why it never took off here. I suppose we don't need ground breaking, though. Just something he won't have used before himself."
"I've got one of their brochures somewhere." Dom went through to her room and emerged with a brightly coloured booklet. Hope leafed through it. There was a lot of choice but nothing that jumped out.
"Boils… warts… itching powder… balding cream... I feel like The Wheeze does all this only better."
"Yeah, I did tell you. There might not be anything useful in there."
"Give a friend the bedroom of their dreams," Hope read aloud from page five. "And it will turn out to be the room of their nightmares. Anyone know what James is afraid of?"
"He likes to pretend nothing," Roxanne said. Then she sat up straighter, black eyes glittering. "We don't need a room that will give him nightmares though, do we? What about one that will spoil his height-of-cool image should he bring a special someone home to his comfortable super king size bed next Saturday?"
It was an idea that had potential. More than anything Hope could see in the brochure.
She flipped right to the end of the catalogue but there was nothing else of interest. About to close it, she paused as she hit the end pages. The last page was covered in small adverts and the back cover was entirely formed of a large picture of a quidditch team dressed in black and red robes. Rigolino, it turned out, was a proud sponsor of Aguilas.
Aguilas were a Madrid based team, Hope remembered, thinking back to the course she had been interested in while perusing Audrey's stack of international qualification information. Hope hadn't forgotten about it and, with this reminder, she made a mental note to look at it more closely, later in the week.
Once they had decided how to pay James back.
O
"Brilliant," Michael said, when she was back at work and had filled him in on the plan for James. "I want photographic evidence."
Hope also had to ask Neil for his help, but something told her that sabotaging James's date was going to meet with his approval. Sure enough, he met her before leaving for his parents' house and lent her his keys for the weekend.
With James confirmed as being away on the date, Dom, Hope and Roxanne set to work. The Aguilas posters were replaced with Wimborne Wasp ones, more as a jibe on Hope's part than anything else. The stylish black and white duvet set was morphed into a flowery lace quilt with pink frilly cushions and several giant teddy bears. The framed, minimalist prints were replaced with the worst family pictures they had been able to find. Hope's favourite had James bawling his eyes out because he had dropped his ice cream on the ground, while Al looked on with glee.
"I hope we're not giving him more brownie points," Dom said ruefully, as they admired the effect. "She might think it's all the more endearing that he isn't afraid to show a sentimental side and doesn't confirm to gender stereotypes."
"I don't think it's going to make a difference when she sees this." Roxanne stepped away from her own handiwork on the other side of the room and Dom clapped a hand to her mouth.
"Rox!"
An enormous poster of a body-builder, onto which she had convincingly plastered James's face, now covered the entire back wall. The figure flexed his enormous muscles and posed in nothing but skimpy lycra shorts.
A list next to it read:
LIFE GOALS
Look like this
Be cooler
Be richer
Get more girls
"She'll know it's fake," Hope said with a snigger. "But it's worth it. That's if she sees it at all. She might not."
Roxanne shook her head.
"Oh I think she will. He told us girls want to spend the night as soon as they see his bed. Which means he probably gives them a tour of the flat the second he gets in."
O
Hope's work shift was busier that night than the previous week, and when it came to last orders she found she was exhausted. The day before had been a difficult one, devoid of all motivation and cheer, and that tended to take its toll.
"Have a rest before we clear up," Michael said, once last orders had been called, noticing her air of fatigue. "You look shattered. Grab a butterbeer or something. Oh!" He glanced over at the door. "Looks like we've got company!"
James had appeared at the bar. He put his hands on his hips, looking uncannily like his grandmother in a temper.
"Be cooler, be richer, get more girls?"
"You know, I think I've read that somewhere recently."
James looked quite indignant, although Hope was sure she detected a repressed smile.
"I thought you'd forgiven me?"
"I had. But then we decided you hadn't suffered enough. Roxanne did the poster."
"Sure you know what you're in for? Starting a prank war with the grandson of one of the great marauders."
Hope did groan internally at the thought, but she maintained her outward boldness.
"I have more marauder blood than you, remember."
"Can I take it from your presence that the date is over?" Michael enquired, reaching for a bottle and pouring James a drink.
"Yes." James took a seat on the stool and accepted it with a word of thanks. "But not actually because of that. Turns out she's a total psycho."
"Oh really? Just because she didn't want to sleep with you?" Hope knew the comment had come out more sharply than intended.
"No," James said with dignity. "Nothing like that. She saw through the room redecoration straight away, knew it was a joke and assumed Neil was the culprit. We had a laugh about it and there I was thinking she was cool. And then I said I reckoned you had done it - as revenge - and I told her about what happened last week. She threw a fit. You've no idea."
"She threw a fit because I pulled a practical joke on you?" Hope was too mystified to feel offended that James had been telling random strangers about her bathroom mishaps.
"More because you were in my room in the first place."
"So?"
"Apparently she didn't take kindly to the fact that both times we'd been on a date you'd also been in my flat that night."
"You mean she thought something was going on between us?" Hope goggled at him. "Why didn't you tell her I'm your cousin? It's basically true. Or that I think you're a sexist pig. Which is definitely true."
Michael let out a half cough of laughter. James's eyes widened but he didn't appear too offended by this either. It had been a long time since Hope had thrown a joking insult at anyone, she realised. Maybe this meant progress too, in a twisted sort of way.
"Ouch," he grinned. "And I did. The cousin bit, at least. But she remembered you from school and knew that we're not officially related. Not that it should matter - I'm allowed to have female friends! And it was an overreaction anyway when this was only a second date. Then she said something about heliopaths and I told her that was bang out of order and so the row escalated and she stormed out."
"Heliopaths?" Hope repeated. "You mean those creatures that Luna's trying to find?"
James took a quick sip of his drink. "Err… sure."
"Why would that cause an argument?"
James now looked very uncomfortable as Hope remained perplexed.
"Seriously, why did you argue about heliopaths? It is something else as well?"
"It's nothing really," James said. "It's just - OK - thing is, heliopath can also be derogatory. Like, an insult."
"What kind of insult?"
"I guess, for people - we'll, it's mostly used for girls actually - who are seen as ideal from a distance, but burn you if you get too close. Like, if you went out with a girl who seemed sweet and everyone loved her but then she cheated on you, some people might call her a heliopath."
"And you called your date that?" Hope gaped at him. "Or she thought you had?"
"No, of course I didn't! She - You know what, never mind."
He took another gulp of his drink but Hope had already cottoned on.
"Wait… she - she said that about - about me?"
James was looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, but he didn't deny it.
"Why would she say that?"
"Hope, please, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to see her again."
"It matters to me. Why did she say it? She doesn't know me - I didn't even recognise her name."
"You were pretty well known at school, though."
"For being a complete bitch, apparently."
"No!" he looked horrified. "Not at all. But you are Teddy's sister." Hope rolled her eyes. "And you're cool," James said hurriedly. "Very independent, insanely good at quidditch. Some people put you on a pedestal a bit. Guys who didn't know you, I mean."
"Did they?" This was news to her.
"Then you and Towler broke up."
"Adam dumped me by owl, you mean," she corrected him coldly.
"I know that. But not everyone did. I think a lot of people thought he couldn't have been the one to break up with you."
"Why not?"
"Kind of... for the reasons I just said, plus you're a metamorphmagus, and-"
"What's that got to do with anything?" This time her voice was so icy that James actually glanced over his shoulder towards the door, as though wondering if he could make a break for it.
"Err… You know... Being able to change your appearance is… for a lot of guys... or teenage guys at least… Look, I don't think that. I'm not objectifying you, and this girl tonight was a lunatic anyway-"
He looked despairingly at Michael, who had paused while tallying up the evening profits to watch him struggle. Michael raised his eyebrows and looked back down at his calculations.
"You're on your own here, mate, unless you want my foot to shove in your mouth as well?"
Hope, whose heart had started to accelerate, was grounded by the flippant comment and managed to plaster a grin to her face. As grimly satisfying as it was to have James grovelling to her for the second time in a week, she decided to put him out of his misery.
"So this girl thought I was in your life to entertain your perverted teenage fantasies before breaking your heart? And flew into a jealous rage because of it?"
"Essentially, yeah."
"So I cost you a night of sex but saved you from having to go on several more dates with a nutcase?"
"I guess so."
"Looks like we're more than even then," Hope said, taking his now empty glass from him and banishing it towards the washer jets. "If anything you owe me another round of pizzas."
"Well," James mused, looking thoroughly relieved that the conversation had moved on from its previous dangerous territory. "Yes. That is a point. Maybe I'll call off the prank war. Maybe. I'll have a think."
Hope forced herself to be cheerful while he was still there, but once the pub had emptied completely and she and Michael had cleared the bar, she set about making up the tables for breakfast the next morning without a word.
"You're not upset about what James said, are you?" Michael asked, when they were finishing in the kitchen, still in total silence. "To be honest it sounds like this girl has her own issues and was insulting you for the sake of it. I wouldn't read into it."
"So you - you'd never heard of this heliopath thing?"
She knew from the involuntary wince that he had.
"But I don't think it's as personal as James made it sound," he assured her. "I'm actually surprised you'd never heard it before. It was being thrown around everywhere during our last few years at school, as a generic insult more than anything else. I mean, one of the Gryffindor girls - Bella, remember her? - used to say it to Esme all the time. Just to be unkind, not for any particular reason."
Hope decided not to ask if he had ever heard it used to describe her specifically.
"I shouldn't care anyway,' she sighed. "I know I shouldn't. It's just - I wasn't exactly popular with the other Ravenclaws, but that's because I was always fighting with Elodie, then then everyone thought I'd blown the Quidditch cup by bailing from the team. I figured to the rest of the school I was 'Teddy's uncool sister' or 'the loner girl with no friends.' Not... that."
"What are you talking about? You had friends," Michael protested.
"Only Weasleys and Potters."
She detected the hurt in his double take and realised how that must have sounded.
"No, I didn't mean it like that," she hastened to add. "I know you're my friend too. I-"
In the end it was easier to explain, and she told him about her struggles to enjoy Hogwarts the way everyone else appeared to, particularly after Dom and Roxanne had left. She avoided all mention of Cadmus, sex and pregnancy, but she recounted the loneliness that had endured year on year, the feeling of constantly being apart from everyone, the terrible exam results, and Michael looked sombre as he listened.
"I didn't know," he said at last. "Not really, anyway. I knew - guessed - that things weren't great after you broke up with Cadmus, and a lot of people were a bit concerned that you stopped playing quidditch, but-"
"No one knew," Hope said matter-of-factly, tapping her wand at the napkins so they rolled up around the cutlery and feeling satisfied when not a single one uncurled. "I told everyone I stopped playing because of work. Even your dad, when he asked me. It was easier to hide everything at the time."
His face was sympathetic, but she shook her head. She didn't want pity.
"I'm doing better now. Not brilliant, but I'm getting back on track. Got my job here, and the flat with the girls. I'm figuring it out."
"I'm glad." Hope knew he meant it.
Hannah came down from upstairs at that point, her extendable bag of decorating tools over her shoulder and her designs in her arms.
"I'm so sorry, I should have come down ages ago," she said. "I was on a roll. You've done a great job down here, both of you."
"I know," Michael said seriously, stopping to cast his eyes round the room. "Imagine if you were paying us to cover the bar for you?"
She smiled fondly at her son without retort and flipped open her diary. "Let's see. Hope - you asked for next Saturday off, didn't you?"
"Oh. Yeah." Saturday was the night of their housewarming and while Dom and Roxanne were excited, Hope was blowing hot and cold about it. For all her earlier enthusiasm, parties still did not appeal. "I can work if you need me though. I don't mind."
"No, don't be silly!" Hannah exclaimed. "To be honest with Michael off too I'll happily take an excuse to leave the rooms for a night or two. I go a bit stir crazy with my own company after a while."
"Oh yeah, you've got Beth's birthday thing." Hope turned to Michael, remembering why he could not attend their own gathering. "What was it again?"
"Axe throwing." He rolled his eyes. "As if arming Beth with sharp, heavy implements was a good idea. She's a liability as it is."
Hope lingered for a further half an hour, discussing with Hannah and Michael what axe throwing might entail and how many casualties it might result in and when she got home she realised she no longer cared about the awkward conversation with James. What did it matter what some random girl thought of her? Or indeed what anyone at school had thought of her. The relationships that had endured beyond Hogwarts were the ones that mattered to her, and those friends were there for her. She could finally see that now.
Dot bounced round her, unusually animated, as she got ready for bed.
"Yes, yes, I know you told me so," Hope said to the pygmy puff. "Maybe it was the right job for me, after all."
O
The following morning, Hope hunted back through Audrey's qualification information until she came to the brochure she was looking for: the large, glossy blue one with a picture of the Puerta de Alcala, and the Carlos Institute logo - a red panda hanging from a broomstick - emblazoned on the front. This time, she looked through the booklet in more detail, reading about the history of the institution and the founders, the place it held in wizarding society, and the list of notable alumni. She reread the course requirements for the Intensive Magical Study programme, to check, but they were the same as before - an application form, two references and an essay.
Seeing that there was a whole section dedicated to quidditch, Hope turned to page twelve, heart thudding. Her relationship with flying felt ever more complicated these days, but Spain was big on the quidditch front, and she wondered what opportunities the school might have to offer.
It turned out that the Carlos Institute was not only based in the same city as the Aguilas quidditch team, but on the same magical site, with their training ground mere feet away from the main building. Not only that, but the two were affiliated. Carlos had one of the strongest intramural leagues in the country and the best players were often recruited by the professional team. As medical training was one of the institution's specialities, Aguilas' health and physical therapy advisors were normally graduates of the school as well.
Hope wasn't under any illusions. Her aspirations for becoming a professional quidditch player were surely a child's dream now. But the intramural league sounded interesting. Perhaps she would feel better about taking up the sport again, in a new country with strangers who had no prior knowledge of her game.
You might want to get a bit of training in before you go. After nearly three years of not flying at all.
Hope didn't mind the voice in her head so much these days. It was still irritating, but less cruel, and she had found that the best way to manage it was to calmly acknowledge what it was saying before moving on, rather than trying to block it out all together.
I might not even be going at all, she reminded it. If I decide to apply and get a place then I can think about whether I want to play quidditch again.
After Christmas, Hope decided. After Christmas, she would make a start on her application.
O
A week later, the house warming party was in full swing, and Hope was starting to feel desperately in need of some fresh air. Happy as she was to see her friends, the toll from the past two years was still with her. She wanted so much to feel normal again - if indeed there was a normal - but she was starting to realise that Martina was right. Time was needed. More time than she had originally bargained for.
She went down to the back garden and breathed in several lungfuls of crisp, winter air, realising how much she preferred the open space. Surely she wasn't claustrophobic now as well as everything else? Then again, perhaps it would make sense, after feeling trapped for so many months with Cadmus.
She tried to use Martina's recent suggestion and cast around for something she could see - the dark shadows of the trees, something she could hear - an owl hooting above them.
James was sitting on the low wall to the left, scrolling through his Wiznote, and she spotted him as she was trying to work out what she was supposed to taste when she wasn't eating anything.
"Everything alright?" he enquired, putting down his device as she sat down next to him. She felt better, his presence soothing. For all his idiocy, James was safe. Solid ground. A port in the storm.
"Needed some air, that's all."
"Same - bloody boiling up there. It's a great flat but maybe not meant to hold forty people."
"Surely there aren't that many?" But when Hope began to add them up mentally it was nearing that - all the Weasley cousins, some of whom had brought friends and partners, a few of Roxanne and Dom's old classmates and their colleagues from work. No wonder she had been feeling odd.
A tall girl who had been out for a smoke went inside, leaving the tiny back garden deserted. James looked sideways at her.
"I made a real hash of everything last week. What I did. Then what I said."
"Don't be stupid, it's fine."
"It's not though. Not if I upset you. And I know you think I'm a sexist pig-"
"I was joking about that," Hope protested.
"But," James continued firmly. "You're one of my best mates, and - and I know everyone asks you all the time how you're doing so I'm not going to. But you can call on me. If you do need anything."
His voice was gruff and he wasn't looking at her, and Hope suspected the words had been helped out by several glasses of mead, but she was still touched beyond measure. James was her friend for laughs, for pranks, for plying her with shots until she threw up. Not the friend to think about her feelings. The fact that he cared enough to say anything meant a great deal.
Before she could find the words to reply, Scorpius and Albus crossed the garden from the back gate. Where they had been, Hope had no idea, but they were clearly arguing in heated whispers and did not notice James and Hope sitting in the shadows cast by the outside lanterns.
"Trouble in paradise, I see," James muttered, as they entered the stairwell and Scorpius shut the door forcefully behind them.
"What do you mean by that? Hope asked, curious.
"Nothing."
He looked shifty. Hope continued to stare at him. Did he know?
"No, come on, what did you mean?"
He hesitated.
"Can you keep a secret? A proper secret, not Morella Flint's version of one."
"You know I can."
"Scorpius and Albus are together. You know, in a relationship together."
"Oh."
Hope had no idea how to react to this.
"How do you know?" she said at last.
"I found out months ago," James said. "Over the summer. They didn't know I'd popped back home to grab something and I saw them together in the living room. And it's kind of been obvious for while anyway. I mean, that's a lot of time to spend with a mate, isn't it, however much you like them? Even you and Dom don't spend that much time together!"
"True. But why don't you tell them you know?"
He took a swig from his bottle and shrugged.
"Why would I do that? They clearly don't want it public yet."
Oh the irony, Hope thought sadly. Albus terrified of James finding out while James carefully and loyally kept his brother's secret in turn. She debated for a split second but what was the harm in telling him? Clearly harm was being done anyway. She threw caution to the winds.
"Thing is… one of the reasons they aren't telling people is that Albus is... afraid of how you'll react."
James swung back round to her with the predictable baffled questions and she explained how she had found out too, last New Year's Eve, eventually speaking to Scorpius about it, whereupon he had admitted Albus's reluctance to share the news with his family.
James appeared truly appalled as she finished speaking.
"What?" he spluttered. "But - but why would he be scared to tell me? I would never - You know I wouldn't - When have I ever-?" he trailed off, apparently lost for words.
"I don't think he sees you as homophobic," Hope said quickly. "But - but you're not always very nice to him. You tease him and you make fun of him. You - you always have." She couldn't meet his eye as she said it.
"That's for a laugh."
"I know. But… sometimes… it isn't as funny for the person on the other end of it."
Panic threatened in the face of his thunderstruck expression. This was exactly like telling Cadmus not to tease her. But it's for a laugh. Learn to take a joke. You're too sensitive. You-
"Are you OK?" James was staring at her shoulder. "Your hair has gone all weird and pale."
So it had - the ends were curling up and had faded to a sickly, anemic yellow. This was a recent development to the panic attacks which Hope did not appreciate at all. It was bad enough feeling them on the inside, without them manifesting externally.
"I'm fine." With a quick shake of her head, she reinstated her red curls.
"Sure?"
Grounded. Solid ground. Something she could see - James's concerned face for one. Something she could hear - a car in the distance. She assured James she was definitely well and he resumed his fretting.
"Albus is afraid to tell me that he's in a serious relationship with Scorpius?" he asked again. "Because he thinks I'll be mean about it?"
"Pretty much."
His face fell and he looked around the garden helplessly, Hope waiting in silence.
"I've fucked up as a brother then, haven't I?" He put his head in his hands and Hope knew in that moment - and to her enormous relief - that she had been wrong. James was nothing like Cadmus. There was no manipulation here, no power struggle, no calculated cruelty, rather a lack of sensitivity from James and an inability on Albus's part to confront him about it. Maybe years of resentment could have been avoided if Albus had turned to James and told him bluntly to leave him be. Lily had done exactly that, two years ago, in the face of James mocking her for not getting onto the quidditch team. To give him his due, James had never mentioned it again, but had supported her instead, coached her for the trials over the summer and it had paid off. Lily was now the Gryffindor seeker.
"How do I fix it?" James asked, raising his head at last. Hope knew a fleeting temptation to say 'You can't. Sorry.' But the prank of two weeks previously had been forgiven by now, and this was a far more serious issue.
"I would be honest," she said. "Tell Albus you know, that you support him, and that you're sorry if you made him feel like you don't. Take it from there, I guess."
"Yeah." He got up at once. "Yeah, you're right. I will. Thanks. Genuinely, thanks mate. I owe you one."
Hope stayed outside for a while, making sure she felt completely tranquil, before heading back inside to be sociable again.
O
All in all, Hope considered that it had been a successful party, although the exhaustion from interacting with so many people meant she couldn't get out of bed the next morning and it was the afternoon when she surfaced. Dom and Roxanne were both sitting on the sofas in the living room, although neither of them looked well.
"You must have been tired," Dom said.
"Yes," Hope agreed. "Feel OK now though. Didn't drink much. I take it Dot's out here with you?"
"Err." Dom glanced at Roxanne, who shrugged. "I don't think so."
"What?" Hope's sleepiness vanished in an instant. "But she's not in her cage."
Dom, upset at her instant distress, got up at once to start looking. "Don't worry, we'll find her."
Half an hour later, Dot was still nowhere to be seen and Hope was on the verge of full blown panic, when Dom's Wiznote glowed and she breathed a sigh of relief on reading the message.
"Scorpius has got her," she said. "He says he messaged you about it but you didn't reply."
Sure enough, when Hope retrieved her own Wiznote from her bed, there were several unread messages, including one from Scorpius. Hope still hadn't got the hang of Wiznote messaging, after so many months of having no one to talk to at all.
"I seem to have taken a stowaway in my jacket pocket. A little turquoise one? I don't think she's very happy about it."
Already feeling idiotic for reacting as she had, Hope scribbled a reply.
"Is she OK?"
"Yeah, but I don't think she'll let me pick her up. She bit me when I tried."
"I'll come to yours and get her."
O
Hope had never been to the Malfoys' house before, and was somewhat relieved to hear that Scorpius's parents were out. She knew they were alright, but they also didn't strike her as the warmest of people. The house itself was smaller than the Flints' but still too big and imposing for her liking. Maybe Morella had a good point about flats.
Dot was cowering in a dark corner of Scorpius's room. The second she saw Hope she shot forwards and buried herself in the pocket of her jumper, trembling, and Hope patted the quivering lump sympathetically.
"Sorry about the bite," she said to Scorpius. "She's nothing like Oompa. Oompa would have been delighted to be stolen away to make a new friend. Probably never would have come home."
Scorpius assured her that he was perfectly capable of dealing with a pygmy puff bite, and Hope looked around his room. It was as large as Cadmus's had been but thankfully more personal. She remembered the bare stone walls of the Flints' mansion and felt an internal shiver.
"Did you have a good time last night?" she asked.
"Yeah! Awesome party.' He gave her a narrow look. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with James talking to Al?"
Hope shrugged.
"Not really. He knew already, it's not like I told him. I gave him a nudge in the right direction. Or I tried to. Did it work?"
"I think so. They had a chat yesterday and Al's going to talk to his family. Today, I think."
"Oh good. That's great! I like your room," she added, looking round again.
"It's alright, I suppose." Scorpius did not seem to share her enthusiasm. "Can't complain about the size. Want the grand tour of the house?"
"Sure."
Scorpius led her through the manor, showing her the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the second living room that was never used. Hope knew that her own family were reasonably well off, but having a room that was never used was an alien concept to her. Then there was the drawing room, the study, the library room…
"Woah!" The library was by far the most impressive of them all. A huge, sprawling family tree covered the back wall, and the rest of the room was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves. Two large moving ladders allowed access to the higher shelves.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "You must have more books than the Hogwarts library!"
"Not quite," Scorpius laughed. "But getting there. Mum loves books. Buys one nearly every flipping day. Mostly geographical. She's fascinated with how wizards live all over the world. If you want a story about a wizarding tribe in the heart of the Himalayas, ask my mother."
Something occurred to Hope on hearing this, as she thought of the essay requirements for the Carlos Institute in Madrid.
"Do you - I don't suppose you have any books on Spain or Madrid, do you?"
"Almost certainly. Why?"
"Do you think I could borrow one or two?"
"Yeah, I'll have a look for you." Scorpius turned to a large index book as Hope made her way over to examine the family tree.
"You're on there somewhere," Scorpius commented. "It goes back several generations."
Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was linked to her own family on his mother's side. Hope was pleasantly surprised to see her father's name on there too - she would have thought that a purist family like the Malfoys might not like admitting publicly that they were related to a werewolf. Yet there he was in the ornate writing - Remus J. Lupin, b. 1960.
Draco came from a long line of only sons on his father's side, which made sense. She knew Lucius Malfoy was manic about maintaining his pureblood lineage. She turned her attention to Astoria Malfoy, born Greengrass. Daughter to Gregory Greengrass and Delia Greengrass, formerly Bulstrode.
Bulstrode.
Her interest now focused rather than idle, Hope's eyes roved up the Bulstrode line. Delia had one brother Patrick, and a niece, Millicent. Further up was Arsenic Bulstrode, who must be Scorpius's great grandfather, and his sister Hyacinth, who had married Portus Flint. Both deceased now. Their line led down to two names she knew very well indeed - Morella and Cadmus. Seeing Cadmus's name in black and white caused an unpleasant jolt in her midriff, but the link itself didn't surprise her. Scorpius had told her before that they were distantly related. Then there was Arsenic's other brother, Arbor, who had married and had one child, Apollyon, who had in turn had a daughter, Cynthia -
This did cause her to do a double take. Cynthia Bulstrode was connected straight back to Marcus Flint's name on the tree. Married in 2001.
"Wait," she murmured. "Morella's mother and father are cousins? No, hang on." She looked again. "Second cousins?"
"Marrying cousins - even first cousins - is very common in old pureblood families like ours," Scorpius confirmed. He had found the area of the room he was looking for and was now pulling several heavy tomes off a lower shelf. "Less so now, but it still happens. It's so important to preserve the pureblood line and the names of the sacred twenty eight and all that." His face twisted and his tone dripped with derision.
Hope was only half listening. It was the name next to Cynthia's that was causing her to stare, Apollyon Bulstrode's other child, his son. The name she had been looking for in the first place. William. Born March 1975. Died December 2005. The same date as the final surge.
So here he was, a distant relative of Scorpius and a close relative of Cadmus, it turned out. Marietta Edgecombe's partner, who had left her on her own in the hospital before being killed four months later in the final surge. An evil man who had committed unspeakable crimes against muggles. And on top of that, Hestia had suspected him to be violent and abusive, even if she had not said this in actual words.
Hope also remembered what Morella had told them only a month ago. The Flints had inherited a load of money when her uncle had died. That had to be William Bulstrode, there were no other uncles, not even great uncles. Romala Flint had been an only child, and Marcus Flint's father was simply marked as unknown. William and Cynthia's mother Viola only had a sister. And as Bulstrode's parents had predeceased him and he had not had children, it would make sense that his sister and her husband had inherited his money. Morella had also said that her uncle was bad news. Piece of shit, actually, were the words she had used.
"Here you go," Scorpius said, carrying a pile of books over to the table. "You can borrow whatever you like. Mum won't mind. You alright?" he added. "You look shocked about something."
"Yep, all good. Thanks for this!"
Her mind was buzzing. You're reading too much into this, she tried to tell herself, as she turned her attention to the books and picked out a couple at random, thanking Scorpius profusely for his help. You're sensitive about the name Flint and you're looking for something strange where there probably isn't anything suspicious at all.
It was too late, her mind was in overdrive.
Everyone Hope spoke to said Flint was a highly unpleasant man, but he had never been convicted of involvement in The Surge. He couldn't have been, or else he'd be locked up in Azkaban with the rest of them. Yet his brother-in-law, who also happened to be a distant cousin, had been one of the principal instigators, and had left all his money to him when he had died.
Was it possible that Mr Flint had been involved in The Surge after all, and no one had ever found out?
O
By the following morning, Hope had decided to forget about the link on the tree. None of what she had found out was secret information, so why should there be anything suspicious about it? She put it out of her mind and focused on catching up with Lily, who she had barely seen at the party and who had come over to the flat for a heart to heart. First and foremost was Albus's news of the previous day.
"Mum was thrilled," Lily said. "I think she's suspected for a while so she's happy it's out in the open. Dad didn't have a problem with it or anything, but he was a bit quiet yesterday evening and this morning. Maybe it's hard for him after how much he hated Draco Malfoy at school."
"Fair enough, I suppose." Hope shrugged. She wondered how she would feel if her child ended up in a relationship with Elodie Carmichael's child. Then she wished she hadn't thought about having children. Then she remembered being at the hospital in August. Her mind began to spiral downwards, but she called up Martina's trick, focusing on the sight of the poster on her wall, the sound of Lily's voice, the smell of her faint, floral perfume. She hadn't even got to taste or touch when Dot nibbled her fingernails reassuringly and brought her back to earth. To her relief, Lily had been looking away and hadn't noticed her moment of panic.
"Oh I do hope they stay together," Lily sighed happily, stretching out on Hope's bed and stroking Dot. Dot was coming round to Hope's friends now and did not object. "Then Scorpius would be properly part of our family too. That would make everyone official family. Except the Longbottoms, I suppose." She looked hopefully over at Hope. "Unless you marry Michael."
Hope burst out laughing.
"We're friends, Lil. Just friends. Not to mention colleagues at the moment. I have never wanted a boyfriend less in my life, so stop trying to play cupid. If you want them to be part of our family, maybe you should go out with him."
She had been joking, but Lily flushed and Hope sat up straighter, intrigued.
"Do you like Michael?"
"No, no, honestly," Lily said. "I mean, he's lovely but no. I don't fancy him. There's-" She didn't say anything else but Hope had cottoned on, and she grinned.
"There's someone else you like, isn't there?"
Lily went even redder.
"Go on, who is it?"
"Swear you won't tell anyone? Not even Hugo."
"Not even Hugo? You tell Hugo everything."
"I'm not sure he'd approve. And I really don't want our parents to know. It's not like anything has even happened properly yet. But still-"
Hope waited. Dot has hopped onto Lily's arm and blinked up at her expectantly.
"Do you remember Aaron Nott?"
Hope thought hard. It rang no bells.
"He's the year above me. In Slytherin. Light brown hair, kind of tall with a thinnish face."
"I don't remember him, sorry." Hope had not exactly been observant in her final years at school. "What's he like?"
"He seems nice! We got chatting after we had to share the pitch with the Slytherins for quidditch practice one time and we've been sending each other Wiznotes ever since. I like him. He seems to like me back. We might be going out properly after Christmas. Maybe."
"That's great, isn't it? Why wouldn't Hugo approve?"
Lily made an irritated huffing sound.
"Because Aaron has a reputation for being unreliable and Hugo seems to think it's his job to protect me from everything and everyone." Hope narrowed her eyes at this. Unreliable could mean anything. "But that's not the only reason." Lily pulled at a stray thread of wool on her jumper. "See, the name Nott is associated with the Dark Arts. Always has been. Aaron's parents sound OK, but his uncle was a death eater, and his uncle's son - so his cousin, I guess, but he died before Aaron was even born - was Theodore Nott."
She said the name as though it should mean something significant, but Hope was none the wiser.
"Who's Theodore Nott?"
"Oh." Lily looked surprised. "I thought you would have heard of him. He was involved in The Surge. Died in the final surge. Everyone thought he was alright for years despite his father. He had a high up job in the Ministry and everything. Turned out he was pure evil too. And - and I know Aaron's not an immediate relation, but-" She looked imploringly at Hope. "I'm not sure Dad could cope with finding out that two of his children had gone for ex-death eater relatives in the same week. I know I let it slip about you and Cadmus that time-"
"You're not still worried about that, are you?" Hope said in disbelief. "That was ages ago. They had to find out eventually."
"Yeah, but I know they weren't too thrilled about it."
With good reason.
"You don't need to worry about that. And of course I won't tell anyone about Aaron," Hope promised Lily. "I'm not sure it matters though. Gran's sister was a death eater, remember. And your Dad hated his own aunt and uncle. He'll know we can't help the people we're related to. But Lil -" it was the other part of what Lily had said that was making her worry more, the bit about him having a reputation, "-make sure he's actually a nice guy before you get too involved, yeah?"
"Um. Sure. What makes you say that?"
Hope hesitated for a fraction of a second. She still wasn't ready to talk about Cadmus. Not yet.
"The reputation must have come from somewhere, that's all."
"True. I'll be careful, don't worry."
After Lily had left, Hope's thoughts turned to Cadmus. And his father. And what his father had done to him. And what Cadmus had done to her.
She was no psychologist, but it was reasonable to assume that some of Cadmus's unpleasant behaviour stemmed from how he had been treated himself as a child. What had Cadmus said, back on that dreadful day just before she had broken up with him?
"Our family would have been a hundred times better off with him locked up in prison."
Hope sat up, suddenly determined. She wasn't going to forget about yesterday's discovery after all. Ministry rulings could be wrong - that had been proven in her lifetime alone and multiple times in that of her parents. Izatt had said so in their second year.
"The most clear cut of cases are not always as they seem."
What if this one wasn't as it seemed either? What if Flint had been involved in The Surge like his cousin who was also his brother-in-law?
Even if he was, what chance do you have of finding out the details?
"Not much chance," Hope admitted to herself, speaking out loud. "Not much chance at all." Her jaw clenched. "That doesn't mean I can't try."
OOO