Chapter 3 - A New Friend

"Don't you fucking walk away from me, Vanessa!" The thunderous voice echoed up the staircase, each syllable soaked in rage.

Four-year-old Ava clutched her tattered unicorn plush to her chest, standing barefoot in the dim hallway, her heart pounding in her ears. Her mother, Vanessa, appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, her breath coming in panicked bursts. When she saw Ava, her features softened instantly.

"Ava, sweetheart," she whispered, crouching low. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Before Ava could respond, Vanessa scooped her up and turned down the hall, her steps quick and uneven.

From below, Anthony Johnson's voice roared again. "Vanessa! I told you not to walk away from me!"

Vanessa darted into Ava's room and kicked the door shut with a sharp slam. With a flick of her wand, the door locked behind them. She didn't pause. Her hands flew to the small trunk in the corner, throwing clothes inside in a desperate blur.

"Ava, honey," she said, her voice trying and failing to stay cheerful, "why don't you put on some clothes, yeah? We're going out. Ice cream."

From the hallway, fists pounded against the door. "Vanessa, open the fucking door!"

Ava flinched. "Mommy, why is Daddy mad?"

"He's not mad, sweetie. Not at you. Just hurry and get dressed, okay?" Vanessa was already tying the trunk closed with one hand and pulling Ava's tiny cloak from its hook with the other. "We're leaving now."

With a final, defiant glare at the door, Vanessa grabbed her wand and shouted, "Bombarda!"

The door exploded open in a blast of wood and light.

Ava barely had time to cry out before her mother grabbed her, clutching her to her chest, and ran through the smoke and splinters. She heard her father coughing, swearing, somewhere behind them as Vanessa flew down the corridor, her grip tightening.

Then came the retaliatory spell: "Locomotor Mortis!"

Vanessa's legs froze mid-run. She pitched forward with a cry, and Ava was flung from her arms.

And time slowed.

Ava saw her mother fall, tumbling down the stairs like a broken doll, helpless to stop herself.

Before she hit the first step, another voice bellowed, "Levicorpus!"

Ava jolted upward, suspended upside-down in midair by her ankle. From her dizzy, spinning perspective, she could do nothing but watch her mother's limp form crumple at the foot of the staircase.

Her father lowered her gently to the top step.

Then silence, except for the sound of his breath hitching and then breaking. A raw, gut-deep cry of anguish followed as he fell to his knees beside Vanessa's unmoving body.

Ava curled into a ball at the top of the stairs, pressing her unicorn against her face, and tried not to feel anything at all.


"Earth to Ava… Earth to Ava. Come in, Ava."

The voice dragged her from the depths like a hook pulling her through fog. She blinked and looked up sharply.

Fred Weasley stood in front of her, one brow raised, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's the second time in 24 hours I've caught you spacing out. Should I be concerned? Is it the library air?"

Ava shook her head quickly, trying to ground herself. "Hi, Fred… What brings you to the library this time of night? Pretty sure school hasn't officially started yet, so it's not like you're studying. And honestly… I don't think I've ever seen you in here."

Fred grinned as he pulled out the chair across from her and spun it around, sitting backward on it like he owned the place. "I could ask you the same question. Bit early to be voluntarily nerdy, don't you think?"

He leaned back, kicked his feet up on the table, and tossed a small object into the air. Ava caught a glimmer of shifting light.

She closed her book with a soft thud. "I come here when I want to think. Be alone."

"Ah," Fred said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, tossing the object again. "Well, the good news is that so do I. We can be alone together."

Ava rolled her eyes and turned to shelve a nearby book. As she reached for another, she paused, watching the object in Fred's hand twist in midair.

A butterfly. A frog. A cat. A bird. It changed with every spin.

"That's… impressive magic," she murmured.

Fred caught it with one hand, spinning it between his fingers. "It's called an Anisphere. George and I made it over the summer. Helps with focus. Or boredom. Or both."

He tossed it to her. She caught it instinctively, and it shimmered between her palms, warm and light. She smiled, despite herself.

"You can keep it," Fred said easily. "I can make another."

"You two should go into business," Ava said, watching the Anisphere shift into a tiny owl. "You'd make a fortune. Do you make other things?"

Fred's eyes lit up like she'd flipped a switch. "Loads. We've got prototypes stashed all over the dorm. Been talking about opening a joke shop one day… a proper shop, not just sneaking stuff into people's cauldrons."

He launched into an animated description of their experiments. A faintly humming gum that made your voice echo, toffees that dyed your tongue blue for a week, peppermints that temporarily reversed gravity.

"And one time," Fred said, nearly breathless from laughing, "we gave Percy one of the peppermints before his big prefect speech. Poor bloke spent the entire thing floating a foot above the floor, flailing like a ghost in a robe."

Ava giggled. "Please tell me someone got a photo."

Fred waggled his eyebrows. "Several. We're saving them for blackmail."

She leaned in, eyes gleaming. "What else have you got?"

"Oh, you'll love this. We're working on a comb that makes your hair stand up like a troll's. Temporarily, of course. George tested it before breakfast once. Mum nearly had a heart attack."

"And what's the practical purpose of that one?" she asked, grinning.

Fred shrugged, completely serious. "Entertainment. Chaos. Lifting spirits. Also, distracting teachers during surprise quizzes."

Ava laughed again, hand over her mouth. "You know, you two might be lunatics, but this is really clever stuff."

Fred's grin widened. "Finally. Someone who appreciates the genius."

"And that wand one?" she asked, nudging him. "Tell me again. It turns into a rubber chicken or what?"

"Depends on the setting," he said proudly. "Some of them backfire spells, some make rude noises, one turns into a bouquet of dandelions and then smacks you in the face with it."

"I would absolutely buy one of those," Ava said, resting her chin in her hand. "That's your launch product. Fake wands. You'd sell out in a day."

Fred looked at her with mock seriousness. "You're hired. Head of marketing."

"Please, I'm co-founder at this point."

"Fine, but I'm keeping creative control," he said, holding out a pinky.

She locked hers with his without hesitation. "Deal."

They were still grinning at each other when the sound of firm footsteps echoed across the stone floor.

Madam Pince appeared at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, her glare like a thundercloud. "It's past hours," she said sharply. "Out. Both of you."

Ava jumped to her feet, cheeks flushing. "Oh…sorry, Madam Pince. I didn't realize… We didn't mean to stay too long…"

Fred rose more casually. "It was an educational discussion, technically," he offered, entirely unbothered. "Riveting innovation. Future of magical commerce."

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. "Out."

"Yes, ma'am," Ava said quickly, ducking her head as she tucked her book under her arm.

Fred simply winked and offered the stern librarian a mock salute. Then, as they turned to leave, he slung one arm lazily around Ava's shoulders.

"Come on, co-founder," he said with a grin. "Before she hexes us into silence permanently."

Ava's face was still pink, but she couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips. "I think you enjoy being kicked out of places."

He gave her a sideways glance. "It's a gift. Some of us are born with it."

As they stepped out of the library and into the cooler corridors of the castle, Ava noticed she hadn't moved out from under Fred's arm.

And, stranger still, she didn't really want to.

They walked back to the common room together, Ava hugging the Anisphere in her hands as Fred chatted about their next project. Something called Canary Creams.

"They look like custard creams, but they turn the eater into a giant canary. Feathers and all. Doesn't last long. George turned me once and Mum still hasn't forgiven him."

The Gryffindor common room was mostly quiet by the time they returned, the fire burning low in the hearth and casting golden shadows across the worn armchairs and red-patterned rugs. A few stragglers were still lingering. Some finishing up summer assignments, and others are too caffeinated or chatty to sleep just yet. However, the buzz of the first-night excitement had started to settle.

Ava smiled to herself as they stepped inside. It struck her then that this was the longest she'd ever talked to any boy without feeling like she had to fake interest. With Oliver, she pretended to care about Quidditch. With Fred… she actually did care about what he was saying. And somehow, she got the feeling he noticed that.

"Well," Ava said, heading toward the stairs to the girls' dormitory, "I gave you actual ideas for your future business. I think that earns me a percentage of profits. Fifty percent, naturally."

"Five," Fred shot back, feigning scandal. "Very generous of me. That makes us perfectly equal."

She laughed, tossing him a look over her shoulder. "Equal? Please. At this rate, I might have to start tutoring you along with Oliver."

His smile faltered, just barely, but recovered quickly. "So… you're starting with him tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah," she said through a yawn. "Right after classes."

He leaned an arm against the banister, eyes narrowing just a touch. "You're oddly invested in helping him pass Astronomy."

She narrowed her eyes right back. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he said, far too quickly, flashing an innocent smile that didn't quite hide the flicker of something else. "Just curious. Man's got a lot of charm for someone who lectures people about broomstick angles."

"He's not that bad," she replied, though her tone wavered somewhere between flustered and defensive.

Fred leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something conspiratorial. "Ava Johnson. Tutoring the Quidditch captain. In the stars, no less. Sounds like the setup to a tragically written romance novel."

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. "You're being ridiculous."

"I prefer the term observationally gifted."

"You mean nosy."

"Same thing."

She shifted her weight on the step, half-turned toward him. "Seriously, Fred… why are you so interested?"

He shrugged, still wearing that same sly smile, yet his eyes twinkled with something more honest beneath it. "Maybe I just don't want to see you waste your intellectual talents on someone who thinks the moon is a Quaffle."

That made her laugh, a real one, catching her off guard. "That's… actually fair."

His smile relaxed again, warmer now. "Just… be careful around Wood. He's got a bit of a reputation."

She raised a brow. "Fred Weasley warning me about reputations? That's rich."

He clutched his chest in mock outrage. "I'm charming. That's entirely different."

"Right. And Oliver's what? Dangerously broody with a broomstick?"

Fred gave a one-shouldered shrug. "He tends to draw people in. Especially when he wants something. Could be homework. Could be more."

She tilted her head, studying him for a beat longer than she meant to. "Well… I'm not the swooning type."

"You say that now."

Ava climbed the last few steps, then paused. "Don't worry," she added over her shoulder, voice softer now. "I'm not as good as you think." She winked. "Goodnight Fred." She turned and disappeared into the dormitory.

Fred stood there a moment longer, the fire crackling quietly behind him. His smile lingered, smaller now. "No… you're better," he murmured. Then he turned and headed toward the boys' dormitory, hands in his pockets, and headed upstairs.


Fred took the stairs to the dormitory slowly, one hand trailing the smooth, cool stone of the banister, the other shoved deep into his pocket.

He should've been thinking about his next prank with George, or how to enchant their alarm clock to scream in Filch's voice. But instead, he found himself replaying the night. The library, her laugh, the way she looked at him like she actually saw him.

And then she'd mentioned tutoring Oliver Wood.

Of course, it had to be Wood.

It wasn't even that he disliked the bloke. Oliver was intense, sure, but decent enough. Still, something about Ava being alone with him, talking stars and constellations, made Fred feel like someone had stuck a Quaffle in his chest and told him to breathe around it.

His thoughts drifted further back as he reached the final landing.

He hadn't thought about that night in years. Her Sorting. The second year, start-of-term feast.

Fred and George had been whispering bets about which kid would cry when the Hat went on. It was the usual first-day chaos. He wasn't paying attention until they called her name.

"Johnson, Ava."

She was so small. All limbs and nerves, clutching the edges of her robe like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to breathe too loudly. Her hair was a little wild, her eyes too big for her face, but they were striking, even then. That odd silvery-green that didn't quite belong to any one color. He remembered leaning forward without realizing it, suddenly curious.

She had looked like she wanted to vanish. All knobby knees and too-big sleeves, blinking up at the hall as if she'd stepped into a dream and realized it might be a nightmare.

Then the Hat shouted "Gryffindor!" and she just stood there, frozen, like she hadn't expected that answer.

Oliver Wood, already a third-year and golden boy of the common room, had shifted down the bench, patting the seat beside him.

And she went straight to it.

Fred had watched her walk past a dozen empty spots to sit next to someone she didn't even know.

She hadn't looked Fred's way once. Not then. But he'd looked at her.

He pushed open the dormitory door and stepped inside, trying to shake off the memory.

George was still awake, lying on his bed, legs crossed at the ankle, tossing a Fanged Frisbee up and down like he had all the time in the world.

"Well, well," George said with a grin. "Back from your moonlit rendezvous?"

Fred rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. "She was in the library. I was in the library. We walked back. I didn't propose marriage."

George snorted. "Shame. You could've at least brought back cake."

Fred peeled off his jumper and tossed it toward the foot of his bed, saying nothing.

"But you like her," George added, like it wasn't up for debate.

Fred glanced at him but didn't deny it. Just moved toward his bed and flopped down hard.

"So?" George prompted, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. "What's she like?"

Fred folded his arms behind his head, eyes fixed on the canopy above. "Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She actually listens."

George gave a low whistle. "Dangerous combination."

Fred huffed a laugh, soft, but without amusement. "She's going to be tutoring Wood."

George caught the Frisbee in both hands and sat up a bit straighter. "Mm. That'll be interesting."

"Yeah," Fred muttered, the word barely audible.

Fred rolled onto his side, back to the room, one arm tucked under his head. His gaze fixed on the shadows dancing on the wall.

"You're quiet," George said after a beat.

Fred stared at the ceiling. "Tired."

"Mm," George murmured. "Funny, you don't usually look tired after hanging out with girls."

Fred grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him without looking. It hit George square in the chest.

George laughed. "Touchy." George took the pillow and put it under his head. After another few uncomfortably silent moments, George spoke again. "You gonna let that get under your skin?"

Fred didn't answer at first. The silence stretched out, filled only by the soft crackle of the fire in the common room far below.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "She never noticed. Not really. Not like that."

George didn't tease him. Didn't push. He just watched.

"'Night, Forge."

George smirked, catching it with practiced ease. "'Night, Gred."


When Ava stepped into the dormitory, the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls. Nor surprisingly, her roommates were still awake. The first night back at Hogwarts always felt a little electric, like no one quite wanted to waste it on sleep.

Lindsay was perched in front of the mirror, brushing her blonde hair with absentminded strokes, the bristles making a soft whispering sound. Leia sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, flipping through a Witch Weekly like she already knew every page by heart.

Despite their differences, Ava had grown close to both girls over the years. Lindsay was Muggle-born, short and round-faced, with a constantly flushed, cheerful energy that made her impossible to dislike. She wasn't exactly a top student. In fact, Ava had helped her cram for more than a few exams. But what Lindsay lacked in academic brilliance she made up for in heart.

Leia, on the other hand, was her opposite in nearly every way. Tall, elegant, and pureblooded, she always moved like she was in on a secret the rest of the world had missed. Her dark hair was glossy and pinned back with precise perfection, her eyes sharp and a little too knowing. Ava liked her well enough, though Leia had a habit of looking down her nose at anything she considered beneath her which often, unfortunately, included Lindsay.

"You're late," Lindsay said, raising her eyebrows in the mirror. "Let me guess…the library again?"

She didn't even try to hide her confusion. Lindsay had never understood Ava's love for the quiet rows of books and hidden corners. She claimed too much reading made her brain feel itchy.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Leia cut in smoothly, closing her magazine and standing with feline grace. "On my way up, I saw Ava talking with Fred Weasley."

She smirked as she crossed the room to her bed, silk nightgown swishing faintly with every step. Leia had that effortless intimidating poise. The kind that made other girls feel like they'd accidentally worn the wrong shoes. She was also, somewhat scandalously, dating a Slytherin –Adrien Lord. It had been the subject of whispered speculation for weeks last term: a Gryffindor with a Slytherin. Drama, mystery, family disapproval…all very on-brand for Leia.

Ava rolled her eyes, stripping off her robes and reaching for her nightgown. "We were just talking. He was in the library, I was in the library, and we walked back to the dorm. That's it."

Lindsay squealed from across the room. "If Fred Weasley paid me any attention, I'd try to snog him in an instant! Have you seen his arms? Merlin's beard, I bet he looks delicious shirtless."

Lindsay let out a high-pitched squeal. "Fred Weasley walked you back?! Merlin's beard, Ava, if that were me, I would've leapt on him. Have you seen him lately?"

"I don't think that's a common courtesy," Ava said dryly, pulling on her nightgown.

Lindsay tossed a pillow at her. "Oh, shut up. Don't act like you haven't noticed. The arms, the hair, that smile. I bet he looks ridiculous without a shirt."

Ava laughed, ducking the pillow as she climbed onto her bed. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun, settling against the headboard. "Of course you'd wonder about that."

Lindsay grinned. "Don't tell me you haven't!"

Ava hesitated, eyes flicking to the canopy above them. "Okay… sure. I'll admit…he really did get more fit over the summer."
She hadn't meant to notice, but it was hard not to. His shoulders were broader now, his smile a little slower, his confidence less wild and more grounded. There were little things. The way his voice dipped when he got serious, or how calloused his hands felt against her skin when he touched her.

Still… she shook the thought off. "But I've never really thought about him like that. He's Fred. You know… loud. Prankster. Angelina's partner in crime."

Leia, already curled up under her blankets, let out a soft, amused hum. "Oh, he's definitely thought about you that way. The way he looks at you? Please."

Ava froze in the middle of tying up her hair. "What are you even talking about?"

Leia shrugged. "Fred. The way he looks at you? It's not subtle."

Leia shrugged with a smirk. "He looks at you like you're some Greek goddess he's not allowed to touch. It's borderline tragic."

"You should absolutely jump on him," Lindsay said, pulling her blankets up to her chin. "Strike while the cauldron's hot."

Ava scoffed. "He does not look at me like that. If he liked me, I would've noticed."

Leia raised a perfectly arched brow. "You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who's completely oblivious."

"I'm not oblivious."

"You are," both girls said in unison.

Ava blinked, caught between protest and confusion. "No, really. If he liked me, I think I'd know. He's… Fred. He's never acted weird around me or anything. I mean, we've barely talked until recently."

Lindsay shrugged, already sliding under her blankets. "Sometimes people don't say anything until they think you're finally ready to hear it."

Leia smirked knowingly. "And sometimes, they just wait until you're not looking at the Quidditch captain anymore."

That made Ava snort, though she shook her head. "I don't know. I always figured Fred just saw me as Angelina's cousin. You know… the quiet one who reads too much and says weird things about dreams."

"Well," Lindsay said with a sleepy yawn, "if I were you, I'd stop underestimating how much boys love the quiet ones."

"Especially when the quiet one is suddenly tutoring the hottest guy on the team," Leia muttered into her pillow.

Ava rolled onto her side, tucking the blankets around her. She wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Fred Weasley? Looking at her like that?

It sounded ridiculous. Didn't it?

Still… as her roommates drifted off to sleep one by one, Ava found herself staring at the ceiling, heart oddly restless.

Fred had always been part of the background…a burst of laughter behind her, a flash of ginger hair darting around a corner. She'd never really looked at him. Not until tonight.

But tomorrow… tomorrow was about Oliver. Her heart had wanted that for years. And now, finally, she might have the chance to do something about it.

With that thought clutched gently in her mind, Ava closed her eyes and let herself drift to sleep. The quiet hum of Hogwarts settled around her like a blanket, and the faint echo of two very different smiles tugged at the edge of her dreams.