Chapter 2 – An Old Friend

The candles floated overhead, casting a soft golden glow on the four house tables below. The Sorting Ceremony had just wrapped up, and the clatter of cutlery and hum of conversation buzzed across the room. Gryffindor House was already alive with energy, first-years wide-eyed and giddy, older students catching up on summer gossip like no time had passed at all.

Ava sat beside Angelina, across from Katie and Alicia, a plate of roast chicken untouched in front of her.

"I'm just saying," Katie was saying through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "if you're gonna date someone in Hufflepuff, you can't act surprised when it ends in hugs and tears."

Angelina scoffed. "Paul was not that dramatic. He just… didn't understand priorities. Like Quidditch. Or ambition. Or basic conversation."

"He cried during your breakup, Angie," Alicia said, smirking. "In the library. Loudly."

"Because I ended things politely!"

"Because you ended things before lunch," Katie chimed in. "Ruthless."

Ava smiled faintly, tuning in and out of the chatter. Fred and George sat a few seats down, laughing over something that involved floating custard and a confused first-year. The table buzzed with noise and comfort. It was a familiar sort of chaos.

And yet, she still felt off.

The chill from the train hadn't completely left her bones. Even now, surrounded by warmth and food and friends, there was a cold pocket lingering just under her skin. Like a shadow, she couldn't quite shake.

In front of her lay a folded copy of the Daily Prophet, snagged from one of the common room tables before the feast. The front page was impossible to ignore.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Below the headline, a wizard's mugshot screamed silently from behind iron bars, wild-haired and hollow-eyed. Sirius Black. A convicted murderer. An escapee. The reason, they'd later learned, that Dementors had been let aboard the train in a Ministry-sanctioned hunt for someone dangerous enough to unleash creatures like that on a school.

Ava's eyes locked on the image, her stomach tightening. She could still feel it. The way the air had gone thin, how her breath had fogged, how her thoughts had turned inward and dark so fast she hadn't realized what was happening until it was too late.

And somewhere in that black spiral, she'd heard something she hadn't thought about in years.

Her mother's voice, not soft and sweet like in dreams, but screaming. Raw. Furious. The memory was sharp, jagged around the edges. A fight. A name she hadn't recognized. The sound of a door slamming, her father shouting–

"Ava."

She blinked.

Someone had sat beside her, pulling her out of her head. When she turned, her breath caught for an entirely different reason.

Oliver Wood.

Friendly as ever, still in his robes, hair slightly windblown like he'd just come in from a broomstick (which honestly, wouldn't have surprised her). He offered her a quick smile that was charming and confident, and somehow entirely disarming.

"Didn't mean tae startle ye," he said, sliding onto the bench beside her. "Ye alright?"

She nodded quickly, folding the Prophet in half and pushing it aside. "Yeah. Just... tired."

"Long day," he agreed with a sympathetic nod, then glanced at her plate. "Ye're no' eatin'. Are the potatoes that bad this year?"

Ava gave a small laugh, shaking her head. "I'm just not hungry yet."

Oliver tilted his head, studying her for a beat longer than necessary before shifting gears. "Hey, actually… meant tae ask ye somethin'. You're still top o' the class in Astronomy, yeah?"

Ava blinked. "Uh… I guess?"

He grinned. "Brilliant. Because I'm no' even close. And I may have possibly, probably, completely forgotten tae finish my star chart over the summer. Any chance ye'd be willin' tae help me out?"

She stared at him.

Oliver Wood just asked for her help. With schoolwork. With anything.

"I–yeah," she said, flustered, "I mean, sure. If you want."

"Yer a star," he said, grin widening. "I owe ye one."

She could feel heat rising to her cheeks and quickly busied herself with her goblet of pumpkin juice.

A few seats down, Fred's voice rang out, light and teasing, in his usual brand of mischief. "Oi, Wood! Don't go stealin' all the smart ones, some of us still need tutoring in basic survival."

Oliver grinned over his shoulder. "First come, first served, Weasley."

The table laughed, and Fred did too. But as the noise carried on around them, he glanced back toward Ava.

She was hiding a small smile behind her goblet, eyes still lingering on the space Oliver had left behind. There was a faint pink tinge in her cheeks.

Fred looked away again, leaning slightly toward George as his twin muttered something under his breath. He chuckled in response, slipping easily back into the flow of conversation. Once again his hands animated, tone bright.

Oliver just waved Fred off, still smiling as he turned back to Ava. "I'll catch ye after breakfast tomorrow, yeah?"

She nodded, heart fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with lingering Dementor chills.

As he stood and made his way back to his seat, Ava found herself watching him go, smiling faintly and dazed in a way she didn't fully register until Angelina leaned in with a smirk and nudged her hard enough to jostle her plate. "Merlin's beard, Ava, that was not subtle."

Ava blinked, startled. "What?"

"Oliver," Angelina said, her grin widening. "The grin? The lean? The way he nearly purred your name? He's either got a crush or he's hoping you'll do his entire star chart."

Katie snorted into her pumpkin juice. "I vote crush. Oliver doesn't ask for help. He grits his teeth and suffers."

"Oh, he's definitely suffering," Alicia added with a sly grin. "Poor boy's practically glowing."

Ava rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward in spite of herself. "He probably just doesn't want to fail Astronomy. That or he's being nice out of pity. After… you know…"

Angelina's teasing expression faltered. "Oh. Ava… hey, I'm really sorry about that. On the train. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

Ava shrugged, but the words still echoed. Ava once said she'd die if Oliver ever talked to her…

"It's fine," she murmured. "I just… maybe he felt bad for me."

"No," Alicia said firmly, shaking her head. "Wood doesn't do pity. He's too obsessed with efficiency. If he didn't want to talk to you, he wouldn't have bothered."

"And he definitely wouldn't flirt," Katie added. "That boy treats romance like an extracurricular. Very selective enrollment."

Angelina gave a sheepish smile. "She's right. He's actually kind of hopeless when it comes to girls. So if he was making an effort? That wasn't charity."

Ava hesitated, then let herself smile just a little. "You really think so?"

"We know so," Angelina said, giving her a playful bump with her shoulder. "Don't worry, next time he flirts, I'll try not to blurt out your childhood crush in front of a crowd."

"Appreciated."

Down the table, Fred was still talking animatedly with George, face lit with laughter. He hadn't looked her way since Oliver sat down.

Not that she was watching for it.

She turned her eyes back to the Daily Prophet, where Sirius Black's screaming mugshot stared out like a ghost clinging to the edge of her thoughts.

Ava flipped it face-down again.

Just for a moment… it was nice to feel something other than cold.


The castle corridors were quiet, the hum of voices from the Great Hall now a distant echo behind her. Ava walked slowly, arms crossed, the flicker of torchlight casting long, stretching shadows along the stone walls. She wasn't headed anywhere in particular.

After the noise and laughter at dinner, she needed air. Space. The kind of silence that only the castle could offer after curfew. And the library, especially this time of night, had always been her sanctuary. Few students ventured there unless absolutely required, which made it the perfect place to breathe and to think. To feel without anyone watching.

She rounded a corner and collided hard into something. Or someone.

The impact jolted her back a step, her book slipping from her hands and thudding against the floor.

"Oh…sorry!" she blurted, already crouching to retrieve it. But before she could reach it, another hand, roughened by time and wear, gently scooped it up.

She looked up and found herself face-to-face with the same man from the train, the one who had opened their compartment door after the Dementor attack. The new professor. His eyes, sharp and thoughtful, were fixed on her with a familiarity that felt out of place.

"I'm so sorry, Professor…" she began, trailing off as she realized she didn't know his name.

He offered a faint, almost amused smile, as if he'd expected that.

"Lupin," he said, voice low and even. "Professor Remus J. Lupin. I'm the new–"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ava finished for him, straightening with her book clutched against her chest. "I figured as much."

His smile deepened slightly. "You're very observant."

She shrugged, her voice dry. "I have my moments."

He tilted his head. "And what brings you wandering the halls at this hour, Miss Johnson?"

"I was just heading to the library," she replied. "I like it at night. It's quiet… and people leave you alone."

Professor Lupin nodded slowly, but didn't look away. "Hmm. A quiet place for a sharp mind. Seems fitting."

Ava gave a small smile, but something about the way he was watching her pulled at her. Not in a bad way. Not threatening but familiar. Weighted.

She shifted slightly. "How did you know my name?"

There was a pause. Barely a breath. But she caught it, a flicker of hesitation before he answered.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said smoothly. "He mentioned you. He said you're one of the school's brightest. And I've heard from Professor Trelawney that you have a rather notable talent for Divination."

Ava smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "He flatters me. I guess I take after my mum. She was great at Divination, or so I've been told."

"I know," he said, so softly it almost got lost in the hallway.

Her head snapped up. "You… knew my mother?"

A shadow passed across his face and Ava's brows furrowed. He blinked, seeming to shake himself gently free from whatever thought had taken him.

"Yes," he said, his voice lower now, and gentler. "Vanessa and I were at school together. I knew her well." His eyes flicked across Ava's face with quiet recognition. "You look just like her. And you carry her spirit."

Ava looked down at the floor, suddenly unsure what to do with the heat that bloomed unexpectedly behind her eyes.

"I don't remember much," she admitted. "She died when I was four. Most of what I know about her comes from old photographs."

There was something aching in the way she said it and Professor Lupin reached out and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"If you ever want to know more," he said, "I'll tell you what I can. But not tonight. Dumbledore's expecting me." He stepped back, expression unreadable once again. I will see you in class tomorrow. Goodnight."

And with that, he disappeared into the dim corridor, his robes trailing softly behind him.

Ava stood there a moment longer, her book still pressed to her chest.

There was something about Professor Lupin. Something she couldn't quite name. The way he'd looked at her, spoken her mother's name. Like she was part of a story she hadn't been told yet.

But she would be. She'd make sure of it.