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Chapter Text

Emile couldn’t believe what was happening. After two years of begging, nagging, and endless fighting, she was finally leaving home. She was finally going to a proper school, the finest wizarding school in the world as a matter of fact, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
She looked to her left at her father, Peter Gorski. A tall, buff man who spent his time gambling away his money and drinking the house dry. Though I suppose if your wife left you with a newborn child and ran off with another man, you would be a mess too. Emile let out a sigh. Her dark haired guardian could turn his life around if he wanted too, he had attended the finest Muggle University in Britain and had graduated top of his class. Now he lived in his ex-wife's brothers basement, not that Emile minded too much. The Diggory family had been kind to her the past four years they had occupied their living space, her cousin Cedric had been the one to convince her father that homeschooling both muggle and magic subjects didn’t seem to be working out.
She smiled nervously at her cousin who was sitting in the backseat. He returned the smile, but he didn’t look as nervous as she did. Not that he needed to be, it was his third year there and being the charming looker he was he had a solid group of pals he could rely on.
“Well, here we are children, Kings Cross.” Peter announced as he pulled up by the station entrance. He smiled sadly at his daughter as she leaned across the car and pecked him on the cheek.
“Goodbye father,” she whispered and exited the car. He smiled as she closed the door. She looked around to see that Cedric had already taken their trunks out and was waiting for her by the entrance to the station.
“Ready to go in, youngling?” he teased as she loaded her trunk onto a trolley.
“Youngling?!” Emile scoffed. “We’re the same age you git.” Cedric laughed and punched her lightly in the shoulder. She glanced at the clock on their way down to the platform and was concerned to see they were half an hour early. She gave Cedric a quizzical look.
“Ah now look here my inexperienced pupil, when you arrive early you are more likely to get a good compartment,” he smiled and broke into a run, disappearing into a column on their right.
Emile grinned, she had heard all about the entrance to platform 9 ¾. She ran towards the column, bracing herself for the inevitable crash, only to find herself on another platform entirely.
She looked up at the beautiful steam engine in front of her, a white haze surrounded it and fogging up her glasses. She walked over to Cedric, who was waiting for her by one of the cars.
“Listen some of my friends are already on and they’ve got a compartment reserved for us, so i’ll see you later alright?” Cedric didn’t wait for a response, he simply smiled and ran off further down the train.
Emile stood in silence as she watched her cousin board the train with a pretty dark-haired girl. It had been foolish to hope he would invite her over with them, but she had allowed small part of herself to hope.
With a shrug Emile pulled her trunk onto the train and hauled it into an empty compartment. She slid the door shut and took out her favorite pillow and blanket from her carry on bag, a small mokeskin pouch her grandfather had given her before passing away. An undetectable extension charm had been placed on it so she used the pouch quite often when going on trips. With a sigh she lay down across the bench and closed her eyes, prepared to finally have a dreamless sleep.
When Emile awoke the sky outside was dark. She sat up groggily, arching her back into a stretch before she realized someone was coming into the compartment.
“Pardon me, i’m looking for a toad,” a bushy haired girl said as she glanced around the nearly empty compartment.
“A toad?” Emile asked groggily, still unsure of what was going on.
“Yes, a boy named Neville’s lost one,” the young girl explained while kneeling down to check under the seats.
“Neville?” Emile sat up, alert at once. “Neville Longbottom?”
“Yes I think so,” came a muffled response from beneath the bench. “Do you know him?” she asked, standing back up.
“I’ve heard of him…” Emile stared absentmindedly out the window.
“Well, i’d better keep searching,” said the girl after a moment. “And i’d suggest you change into your robes, I expect we’ll be arriving soon.” she walked out of the compartment, looking back before closing the door. “Pleasure to meet you , um?”
It took Emile a moment to realize that she was talking to her.
“Oh! Emile, Emile Gorska.”
“Nice to meet you Emile. And I’m Hermione Granger.” With that, Hermione closed the compartment door and continued on to down the train.
Emile wrapped the blanket around her tightly and let out a shudder. She didn’t want to see Neville again. She couldn’t face him after what had happened to her, well their mother. With a sigh she got up and drew the curtains to the compartment to change into her robes.
As she took off her usual clothes she heard laughter out in the hall. It was coming closer and closer.
“Come on, Fred, I think this one’s empty!” she heard a laugh outside and saw the knob on her compartment door turn.
Emile let out a scream and grabbed her blanket from the chair, quickly wrapping it around her nude body. “Don’t come in you bastards!” she shouted, cursing in her head. How could she have forgotten to lock the door? She was so stupid, stupid stu-
“Bloody hell!” came a cry from the hall and the compartment door was quickly shut.
“Well now you’ve done it George, just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself now could you?” a muffled snicker came from outside.
“Just drop it, Fred,” came a mumbled response from the one called George.
Emile took a deep breath and leaned against the compartment wall. “I’m really sorry about that,” She said through the door. “I forgot to lock the door.”
“No, no, we should have knocked first,” came the response.
“We? Don’t drag me into this.”
“Shut it, Fred.”
Emile smiled inside the compartment as she struggled to hold the blanket up with one hand and lock the door with the other.
“You boys can go now, I’m not inviting you back in.” she called in what she hoped came off as a teasing voice. Apparently it worked because they laughed and soon the hall was quiet again.
Goosebumps were forming on her skin as she dressed in her school robes. They hadn’t even arrived at school yet and she was already messing things up. She hoped that she didn’t end up in the same house as those two, that would be horrid. They were probably sitting with a group of friends telling them all about the naked new girl.
Emile stood up with a sigh as the train pulled up to the Hogsmeade station. Looking out the window she could see the many shops in the town; she had gotten her permission slip signed and simply couldn’t wait to visit.
As she exited the train she heard someone calling her name. Cedric was waving her over to one of the carriages, he was with the same black haired girl as earlier and a curly haired blonde.
“Emile! Over here!” the black haired girl called excitedly. Cedric was smiling at her in a goofy way and Emile couldn’t help but smile too.
As she climbed into the horse drawn carriage she looked over at Cedric expectantly.
“Oh, yes.” He grinned nervously at her. “Emile, this is Cho Chang,” he said, indicating to the black haired girl who proceeded to aggressively shake hands with Emile, “And Marietta Edgecomb.” The curly haired blonde smiled and nodded at Emile, who shyly smiled back.
“We were looking all over the train for you earlier!” Cho said excitedly. “After Cedric told us how he’d left you, I was furious because he talks about his cousin all the time and I really wanted to meet you, but no he left you behind to go talk up Quidditch with the boys and that was not ok so Marietta and I went looking for you but you were sleeping in your compartment and we didn’t want to disturb you…” Cho rambled on while Emile nodded and pretended to listen to her; she personally didn’t care for girl talk but Cho certainly did and she definitely kept them all entertained with her impressions of Cedric on their way up to the castle.
As they exited the carriage and made up to the castle Emile realized that she would need to take part in the sorting along with incoming first years, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do or where she was supposed to go. She turned to ask Cedric what he thought she was supposed to do she heard a cough behind her.
“Miss Gorska if you’d be so kind as to follow me I am to take you to the headmaster's office where you will have a private sorting ceremony before we go the great hall.” A tall dark haired man in black robes came out of the shadows and beckoned her to follow him.
“Yes, sir.” Emile hurried after the tall figure, turning to wave goodbye to Cedric.
They speed walked through the winding halls of the castle and stopped before a tall statue of a gargoyle.
The strange man looked the statue it the eyes. “Sherbert Lemon.” The gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a staircase that lead up. Emile's eyes widened and she swore she saw the dark man give a small smile at her surprise. They took the stairs two at a time and entered a large portrait and book filled room. An older man with a long beard looked up as they entered, Emile gasping for breath. She just did more exercise in the past five minutes than all of the previous week combined.
“Ah, Severus,” the older man smiled down at them. “I see you have found our new student.”
The dark haired man, Severus, nodded, picked up a book off the floor, and began to read. Emile looked at the bearded man, this had to be Dumbledore.
“Well Emile, let’s get started shall we?” Dumbledore said cheerfully. He pulled a dusty old hat off his shelf and walked over to where she was standing by the door.
“This is the sorting hat,” he explained. “It will decide which of the four hogwarts houses best suits you.”
Emile took the hat from Dumbledore and placed it on her head.
Emile Victoria Gorska
Holy fuck
There’s no need for that kind of language, maybe we ought to put you in Slytherin for your foul mouth.
No, please, I really don't think that's necessary.
You certainly have an acceptable mind but I don't think you ought to be put in Ravenclaw, they don't take a foul mouth lightly there. Based on your heritage I don't think you would find Slytherin all that delightful, so where to put you?
My mother was in Gryffindor, but I'm scared of running into-
Your half brother, I see Miss Gorska but I think that's what you need most to help you come to terms with the events of the past, and the future. Though Hufflepuff does seem to be the perfect fit, you need a challenge of some kind. Maybe things would turn out for the better this way...
Emile sat still, terrified of what was to come. She saw Dumbledore glance at the clock and whisper something to Severus, who nodded and left the room, taking the book he had been reading with him.
Good luck, Emile Victoria Gorska
“Better be,” the hat spoke aloud, slightly startling Dumbledore (who quickly regained his composure). “Gryffindor!” the hat shouted, Dumbledore broke into applause as Emile snatched the hat off of her head. This was not ok. This was not at all what she wanted. She had chosen Hufflepuff. She wanted to be with Cedric, someone she actually knew and could really talk to.
“Wonderful, wonderful!” Dumbledore walked over and took the sorting hat from her. “Now Miss Gorska if you will follow me we will head down to the great hall for the start of term feast.”
Emile followed Dumbledore down the winding staircase and through the halls of the castle. She was planning out the letter she would be sending to her father tomorrow morning, hopefully if he was sober he would respond quickly. She had already worked out a system with Uncle Amos, they would hold onto any letters she sent her father if he was in an intoxicated state and present them to him when he was acting more manageable.
Dumbledore lead a lost in thought Emile over to the Gryffindor table to sit with the other third years.
“Have a pleasant year Miss Emile,” he smiled and walked over to the staff table to take his seat. Emile watched him go, too distracted to pay much attention. She absentmindedly started chewing on a strand of her hair as she looked around at her other Gryffindors. There was a taller girl with mousy brown hair, a cheerful dark skinned girl who appeared to be miming something to do with Quidditch to the girl next to her, who was listening intently. Across from them sat a Dark skinned boy who had a box that Emile had heard contained a spider of some sort. An older boy with curly red hair was interrogating him about the contents of said box, while two red headed twins laughed off to the side. Emile nearly choked on her hair. Of course she ended up in the same house as the two who had seen her in nothing but her undergarments and a blanket. She made a mental note to avoid those two at all costs.
Just then the doors to the great hall opened and a group of terrified first years came in. Emile watched in silence as they walked up to the front of the room and proceeded with the sorting. Most of the first kids became Hufflepuffs, oddly enough, though a few did become Ravenclaws. Emile clapped along with the other Gryffindors as Lavender Brown became their first new member. Well, first young new member.
Not long after the bushy haired girl, Hermione, joined Lavender at the Gryffindor table. After her went Neville, he was so big now. Though Emile knew the result was inevitable she had still clung onto a bit of hope that he would be sorted into Hufflepuff, but as he joined the new Gryffindor ladies at the table she knew it was a useless wish.
Not many people were left at this point in the sorting, a Draco Malfoy was sent to Slytherin. Emile had laughed aloud as the hat screeched “Slytherin!” before it had even touched the boy’s head. Though she tried not to bring attention to herself, she was sure the two redhead twins had whispered while looking at her. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling very self conscious and pretended to pay attention to the sorting.
The famous Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, as was another redhead boy. Emile had a feeling that all these Gryffindor redheads were related, but she didn’t say anything in case she was wrong.
As Dumbledore stood up to give a short speech Emile looked over at the Hufflepuff table. She could see Cedric sitting with his group of friends, she’d seen pictures of them before but it was surprising to see how much taller they were in person.
Cedric glanced over at her and smiled. Emile waved back, suddenly feeling very lonely over at the Gryffindor table. That was just what happened when you come into school after everyone’s already established friend groups.
“Hey you, could you pass the lamb chops?” the dark skinned boy called to Emile down the table. She smiled and tried to avoid his gaze as she handed the platter over.
“Thanks doll.” he winked at her before turning back to the redhead twins.
Emile piled her plate with food and began eating, feeling hungrier than ever since she hadn’t eaten since that morning, before they even left for hogwarts. It was so weird to think that that same day she had been at home, walking the Diggory’s dog and checking to make sure she had packed everything she needed for the school year.
“Excuse me but is this seat taken?” a voice said behind her. Emile turned to find herself face to face with the Gryffindor ghost, whose name she had forgotten. Emile hadn’t bothered to learn anything about the other houses since she had been so certain she would end up in Hufflepuff.
“Not at all,” she smiled at the ghost. “I’m Emile, Emile Gorska.”
“Sir Nicholas of Gryffindor tower,” they ghost smiled down at her. “I don’t believe i’ve seen you here before.”
“No I just arrived today. I’m a third year, I was homeschooled for two years,” Emilie explained.
“Aha I see,” the ghost smiled for a moment before a loud noise across the hall distracted him. “If you’ll excuse me a moment Miss Emile, I must go fetch the Bloody Baron, I am afraid Peeves the Poltergeist is already having a bit too much fun with our newest arrivals.” And with that the ghost floated away through the wall of the great hall.
“Emile huh?” came a voice to the right of Emile. She jumped and saw the Quidditch girl sitting next to her. “I’m Angelina Johnson.”
“Nice to meet you Angelina. You’re a third year too, right?”
“Thats right,” Angelina smiled at Emile. “You’ll be rooming with me, Alicia, and Katie.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Emile smiled back at Angelina. “Who else is a third year? In Gryffindor house I mean?”
“Oh well it’s the three of us, Katie's a second year, and then Fred, George, and Lee over there.” Angelina pointed to each of the boys as she named them, though none of them were paying much attention. Lee was showing off the spider in the box to the twins under the table. “I wouldn’t befriend them though if I were you, the twins have a habit of messing with people.”
Emile smiled. “Don’t worry, i’m sure it’ll all turn out fine.”
Just then the food from the table vanished and was replaced with the dessert selection. Emilie had inherited her father’s sweet tooth and instantly got to work piling up the various delicacies in front of her, wrapping several in her napkin and sticking it into her mokeskin pouch for later.
Once the feast was finished and speeches made, Emile followed Angelina and Alicia up to the Gryffindor tower. Emile was so tired she didn’t even notice where they were going. It seemed to take forever to get the the painting of the fat lady that concealed the dorms.
“Password?” the portrait asked.
“Oh Percy told it to me it was um, oh! Caput Draconis!” Alicia announced triumphantly. The portrait swung open, and the three girls stepped into the Gryffindor common room. It was a round room with many squashy armchairs and a merry fire going in the fireplace.
Emile yawned and followed a group of girls up to the girls dormitories. Once she entered she drew the curtains of her four poster bed shut and changed into her pajamas before falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Emile to fall into a regular routine of getting up early, eating breakfast before the great hall got too crowded, and going through her day without drawing attention to herself. So far she found she enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures and Potions the most, though she kept this to herself since it seemed to be a commonly unpopular opinion in Gryffindor house. In fact the only house in the entire school that seemed to enjoy potions was Slytherin house. And that was mostly because Professor Severus Snape let them get away with all sorts of jargon.

Though she saw Cedric during Herbology and Divination, he was often busy with his Hufflepuff friends and didn’t spend much of his time talking with her. He would occasionally say hi in the hallways and he once asked how she was doing while Professor Trelawney had her back turned, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to respond. He was quickly distracted by Trelawney predicting his inevitable early death.

Today proved to be no different from all the others, that was until she got a letter in the morning mail. Emile hadn’t gotten a reply from her father yet, so she figured this letter was either a response from him or an explanation from the Diggory’s.

It proved to be neither.

Emile did not recognize the sender of the letter, nor the owl who delivered it. She took the letter and slipped it in the pocket of her robes to open later in a secluded corner of the library that she had discovered a week into the school year. She considered it a safe haven, and often went there to nap in between classes or during dinner when she didn’t feel like eating.

As more people began filing into the great hall for breakfast Emile got up and grabbed her bookbag, heading towards the door with her head down. As she exited the hall, she had the misfortune of running headfirst into Oliver Wood.

Emile gasped as she fell backwards onto the floor, her books and journals spilling out of her bookbag. Her sketchbook was opened up to a drawing she had done of Harry Potter’s owl, Hedwig, up in the owlery just yesterday.

“I'm so sorry!” said Oliver, leaning down to gather some of her books.

“No, no it’s my fault I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Emile found herself staring at Oliver as she reached for her sketchbook, he wore a very anxious expression on his face.

“I guess I wasn’t either,” Oliver smiled briefly before helping Emile up and handing her her books. “A lot going on, you know?”

“Yeah I understand,” Emile let out a small laugh. “Hard to believe term started three weeks ago isn’t it?”

Oliver smiled and began to say something but before he could respond the redhead twins, Fred and George, came up to him and began discussing something to do with Quidditch. Emile backed away from the boys before turning around and heading up to the library. She thought she saw Oliver watching her go, but she quickly ceased the wishful thinking.

Pull yourself together Emile. He’s two years above you.

She began walking to the library when Emile realized something. The dormitory would be completely empty. All her dorm mates would be down at breakfast before they went to arithmancy, while she had a free period. She was so stupid, it’s been three weeks why hadn’t she figured this out before? Emile paused by the fat lady, mauling it over.

“Password?” the fat lady yawned as she spoke, stretching like a cat.

“Oh, Pig Snout.” Emile shrugged to herself. might as well go here instead. It would certainly save her another two minutes of walking.

The portrait door swung open to reveal a rushed group of first years heading towards the exit. As they passed Emile she heard one of them say something about Harry Potter being the new Quidditch Seeker, which certainly explained why Wood looked so nervous. A game was coming up and Harry had never even heard of Quidditch prior to his Hogwarts education. He had a lot to learn.

As Emile climbed the stairs to the dormitories she took the letter out of her robe. She began to carefully tear it open. She opened the door to her dorm and walked over to her bed, pulling the curtains shut around her. As soon as she took out the letter she recognized the neat handwriting of Mr. Diggory.

Dear Cedric and Emile,

I know that we have been communicating individually with both of you but i am afraid that doesn’t seem possible at the current moment. Our family owl, Cormac, has passed away. The Owl Emporium at Diagon Alley has had an outbreak of feather lice. Until then any owls we send will be through the post office owls.

On another note, we will be attending Christmas dinner at the Minister of Magic’s house, and though it is not required of you to come we have decided to leave it up to you whether you would like to attend or not.

We hope you both are doing well.

Warm regards,

Amos Diggory

P.S. Emile, we have your letter. Don’t worry too much, it’s been worse.

She put the paper down and gave a small smile. The Minister’s Christmas dinner was an annual pain. Emile never knew which utensils to use. Cedric seemed to enjoy it though, he would most likely return home for the holidays.

With a sigh she tucked the letter back into her pocket. If Cedric wasn’t too busy playing the role of Mr. Popular then she would give him the letter during Divination. Which was in an hour.

With a groan she realized she still hadn’t filled out her dream journal. It’s not that it was hard, she just didn’t want to be honest. Dreams where personal business, you shouldn’t have to be graded on whether or not you dream at night. And you shouldn’t be required to share them.

As Emile improvised a rather unimaginative dream scenario in her journal, she heard a loud wail from outside the dorms. It was quite startling, she was very ashamed to admit she had fallen out of her bed, scraping her knee in the process.

“What the bloody hell is going on out there?” she yelled as she hobbled over to the door. Much to Emile’s surprise, she managed to make the scrape her knee even larger as she slipped once again outside the door. The stairs leading up to the dorms had vanished, leaving a smooth slide.

Emile rolled sideways down the stairs, her feet getting caught on several uneven bricks in the walls. As she rolled to a stop she felt someone pick her up and carry her over to one of the common room couches.

“I’m real sorry about this, doll,” came the deep voice of Lee Jordan. Emile let out a groan, which he must have taken as a groan of pain because a moment later Lee grabbed the Weasley twins to stay with her while Lee went for Madame Pomfrey.

Emile stared at the ceiling, she was certain her face was beat red.

“What happened?” she asked one of the redheads, unsure who was Fred and who was George.

“Oh Emile well you see,” red one began.

“Lee’s spider got loose,” red two said

“and he chased it to the girls dormitories.” Red one concluded.

After a moment of silently staring at them Emile asked, “But what happened to the stairs?”

“Oh that always happens when a person of the male gender tries to visit with the girls.” Red two rolled his eyes at Emile and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Real medieval if you ask me.” Red one put his feet up on the couch Emile was on, bumping her leg by accident. Emile let out a small whimper as a streak of pain shot up her leg.

“Really banged yourself up, didn’t you Em?” Red one laughed as he put his feet down again.

“Seriously red, I hardly find this humerous.” Both redheads laughed as she said this.

“If he’s red, then who am I?” asked red two.

“Red the second,” Emile snapped and turned her head to face the ceiling as the pair began laughing like the hyenas from the lion king. Their laughter subsided as Madame Pomfrey rushed into the room with Lee.

“For goodness sake boys you couldn’t get any more insensitive,” Madame Pomfrey glared at the redheads before conjuring up a stretcher for Emile. “Here we go dear, let's get you to the hospital wing so that i can get a proper look at you.”

Emile turned to Lee as she left. “If you need someone to get your spider, ask Hermione Granger. She’s one of the less squeamish girls here, even if she’s a first year.” Lee smiled sheepishly as Emile floated out of the common room, and off to the hospital wing. She felt that maybe she had made an acquaintance in her house, someone that she could at least talk to.

Chapter Text

Emile woke in the hospital several hours later. She tried moving her legs and was happy to feel them working properly. Madame Pomfrey and diagnosed her with a broken leg and minor concussion, and had given her a potion to take that would heal her as she slept. Emile stood up, did a few stretches and jumped off a nearby chair, just to make certain everything was fine.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Emile turned as Madame Pomfrey’s voice sounded behind her.

“Yes, very much,” Emile smiled. “Thank you for healing me.”

“Oh it was no problem dear,” she responded breezily, sweeping Emile out of the hospital wing. “Let me know if you feel any pain.” And with that, she closed the door.

Emile strolled down the hall towards the Gryffindor commons. As she neared the moving staircases someone stepped out of the shadows, stopping her.

“Miss Gorska might I inquire as to why you were not present for my class today?” Professor Snape towered over Emile.

“I was in the hospital wing sir, broken leg.”

Snape sniffed disapprovingly. “Then Miss Gorska it might interest you to know that you missed out on a pop quiz.”

Emile stared up at Professor Snape, dumbstruck. It was too early into the year to be giving quizzes, she hardly remembered how to make any of the potions they had studied in class.

“Sir, is there any chance I could come take the exam during dinner break today?”

Professor Snape gave Emile a suspicious glance. She reconed he was probably suspicious a student would give up eating to take a test, but in all honesty Emile wasn’t very hungry.

“If you wish to make to your absence,” Snape began somewhat hesitantly. “You may come by my classroom at precisely six o'clock pm.” Emile gave a small smile, that gave her at least an hour and a half to study.

“I’ll see you then, Professor.” Emile gave an awkward curtsy before running off down the hall. As she ran up the moving staircases she saw Angelina leaving the dormitories. She turned around with a smile as Emile called her name.

“Emile!” she said happily. “Are you planning on joining us for dinner? We heard about what happened, don’t worry, Katie got the spider back to Lee.”

“Oh, I actually have to go take the Potions quiz.” Emile responded once she caught her breath. “I was wondering if you could tell me what it was on?”

“Oh,” Angelina’s face fell slightly. “We simply had to make a shrinking solution and test it out on a rat Snape provided for us.”

“Alright thank you.” Emile turned to go fetch her schoolbag from her room. But as she turned Angelina spoke again.

“You should come down and eat with us more often.”

Emile turned to her and smiled. “I should.” The corners of Angelina’s mouth twitched slightly as Emile turned away from her and ran to her dorm. She hastily dumped the contents of her bookbag onto her bed and packed only what she needed for the quiz before hurrying back out of the dorms and up to the library.

Once she entered the library Emile went straight to the potions section, scanning the shelves for an adequate studying guide. She reached for a worn looking copy of Advanced Potion Making. She knew it was typically used for NEWT level classes but Emile found these textbooks yielded better results than the standard third year books. As she flipped through the book searching for Shrinking Solutions, she found that the poor textbook had been treated terribly, writing was all over the pages and she was sure there was a blood stain on one of the pages.

When Emile finally found the Shrinking Solution recipe, it had been completely written out and a different, unfamiliar version of the recipe was scribbled over it. Emile shrugged to herself. If no one’s crossed it out or removed it from the textbook then it must work.

She closed the book and crept over to the far right corner of the library, where she slipped behind a bookshelf into a narrow chamber. Emile had placed several blankets, pillows, and lanterns in the tiny enclosure to make it more comfortable, the lanterns filled the space with a warm glow. They reminded her of muggle christmas decorations that were everywhere during the holiday season.

With a plop, Emile sat down onto the pillows, pulled out a spare roll of parchment and her green quill, and proceeded to copy down the recipe.

It felt like barely five minutes had passed before Emile heard the librarian, Madam Pince, announcing that dinner would begin in three minutes. That gave Emile only three minutes to get to Snape's dungeon. She hurriedly packed her notes into her bag and exited her small haven, grabbing the book as she went. Emile hastily put it back on the shelf, making a mental note to come check it out for the year if the results she go were good.

Emile ran through the castle to the dungeons, arriving at exactly 6 o’clock pm. She Entered the classroom and walked over to her usual seat in the far back.

“Miss Gorska there will be no need to sit so far away since you are the only student present this evening,” came the quiet voice of Professor Snape. “People might think you’re… up to something.”

Emile smiled, he thought she was going to cheat. “Professor I had hoped you would trust me enough by now.”

“I can’t imagine why you would think I could trust a Gryffindor.” Snape sniffed before returning to grading papers at his desk.

Emile moved her items to the front of the room and poured in the required amount of water into her cauldron. Once the water began to simmer she looked at Professor Snape.

He nodded curtly. “You may begin.”

Emile ran over to the cupboards and pulled out caterpillars, peeled shrivelfig, rat spleen, daisy roots, and leech juice. She carefully sliced five caterpillars and dropped them into the cauldron. As she increased the temperature of the fire she began shaking the peeled shrivel figs. By the time the potion had turned red the shriveled figs were ready to be added. Emile slowly added the peeled shrivel figs till the potion turned yellow. She sat back for a moment as she waited for the potion to turn purple. As she waited she was aware of Professor Snape watching her as he graded her progress. He was frowning more than usual, which couldn’t have been a good sign.

Before Emile could consider a reason why, the classroom door opened. Emile’s head whipped around and she let out a groan. The Weasley twins were standing by the door, hands full of sweets. As they noticed her across the room, red one nudged red two, who smirked in her direction. Emile rolled her eyes and looked back at her potion, which was now a muted yellow.

“Evening Professor,” Red one winked at Snape and sat down at one of the empty desks.

“Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley you are late.” Snape stared menacingly from the front of the room.

“Sorry, we would have come on time,” Red one began.

“But we didn’t want to come.” Red two smiled sweetly at Emile as he said this, which caused her to panic slightly.

Was it her fault? Did they not like her? Did they think she was annoying? Oh lord please stop Emile it's ok you’re ok you’re fine.

Snape was frowning at the three of them, Emile was shaking slightly in her seat.

“Mr. Fred Weasley if you wouldn’t mind taking the muggle tools from the back room you will be cleaning the supply closet.” Red one, Fred, bowed deeply before running off into the closet, where he did not emerge from.

“And Mr. George Weasley,” Red two turned to face Snape as his name was called. “You will be sitting in the corner and contemplating every possible meaning of the phrase, ‘silent as the grave.’ Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, Professor.” George looked once at Emile before going off into the corner.

Emile felt her cheeks getting hot as she glanced at her potion, which was just beginning to turn a faint violet. She began mincing her daisy roots, years of cooking at home had prepared her for this moment. Once she had minced a few of the roots she glanced at her potion, which had turned a nice purple. Painfully aware of more than one pair of eyes watching her, Emile dropped four of the rat spleens into the cauldron and added the daisy roots bit by bit till the potion turned green. She then dropped in five drops of leech juice and a bit more of the shrivelfig till the potion turned pink. One more sliced caterpillar and the potion was almost ready.

Professor Snape stood up and walked to the back of the room, returning up to the front with a rat.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Gorska.”

Emile hastily took some of her potion, now bright green, and sucked it up into a spare dropper. She walked over to Professor Snape, who coaxed the potion into the rat. It twitched for a moment before rapidly decreasing in size. A newborn baby rat now sat curled up where the full grown adult had been. It was no more than a day old, its eyes weren’t even open.

Emile let out a small sigh of relief. The potion had worked, she passed. Tomorrow she would check out that old textbook from the library.

“Very well done Miss Gorska, may I ask you something?”

“Of course Professor.” Emile’s anxiety returned with those words. It was never that easy.

“How is it that every student i quized today managed to fail in making this potion, yet you passed?” Professor Snape stared at her coldly.

“Well, I guess it’s because I had an hour to study beforehand, I was aware of the quiz while the others were not.” It made sense to Emile.

“A Gryffindor studied?” Snape sneered at the redheads in the back who were attempting to complete the assigned tasks. “I think that you just made Gryffindor history, Miss Gorska.” Emile opened her mouth to respond but was held up by Snape, who held up his hand to silence her. “However it is not so much you’re studying technique that intrigues me as much as your source, Miss Gorska. You just completed a very advanced potion with hardly more than an hour to study. What, may I ask, was your source?”

Emile swallowed nervously. “I um, I read an Advanced potion making book in the library.” Snape’s brows furrowed slightly at these words yet his gaze remained cold. He reached for a quill and pulled out a scrap of parchment.

“Please give this to Madame Pince,” he said through gritted teeth. “And bring me that book.”

Emile took the note and left the room. She could feel her anxiety setting in as she wandered through the halls. What was going on?

As she entered the library for the second time in a day, Madam Pince appeared out of nowhere and began rambling about the time and how she should be off to bed soon because the library would be closing for the evening. Emile simply handed her Snape’s note and walked over to where she had left the book earlier. It was sitting on the same shelf she had left it on, no surprise there. Most people didn’t go for the old, broken books.

With a sigh she took the book and trudged back to the dungeons, receiving a glare from Madam Pince as she exited the library. As she returned to Snape’s room he snatched the book out of her hands, flipping through it urgently. He turned his back to Emile, she couldn’t see what was going on anymore so she sat down on a stool by his desk.

“Miss Gorska, you took quite a risk taking instructions from a foreign book, as useful as they may have been.” Professor Snape threw the book onto his desk as he turned to face her. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

A gasp sounded from the back of the room. “You can’t do that!”

“Mr. George, must I remind you that you are in this detention for disrupting class and I will not hesitate to assign you a week’s worth.” Snape did not take his eyes off Emile as he lectured the redhead.

“However, I can see you were planning to get this book yourself after tonight. So I will permit you to keep this book for the remainder of the year.”

Emile stared at Snape, shocked. One could almost call this gesture an act of kindness, and to a Gryffindor.

“May I ask why, Professor?” she said hesitantly.

Professor Snape sniffed. “I can see you enjoy this class to a certain extent, though I hope the point deduction has taught you to clarify content with teachers prior to examinations.”

“It was, thank you Professor Snape.” Emile smiled slightly at the Professor as she grabbed the book and returned to her station to clean up. Once she had finished and the book was safely in her bookbag she did Professor Snape goodnight and exited the classroom. As She left she heard Snape calling an end to the redheads detention, and Emilie sped up her pace so that she wouldn’t have to walk back to the common room with them.

Just her luck, as she turned the corner two mops of red hair popped out of the shadows.

“Hiya Em.” George smiled at her.

“Where did you-”

“Filches cat!” whispered Fred, pointing behind Emile as he rudely interrupted her. Sure enough, Mrs. Filch was prowling down the hallway towards them, her eyes glowing in the faint torchlight.

“Quick this way!” Fred whispered as he disappeared into the shadows with George. Emile stood dumbstruck till a hand came out of the darkness and pulled her along. As they ran through the darkness Emile clung onto the arm of whomever had pulled her in, she couldn’t see anything. She ran into the two of them as they stopped suddenly in the darkness.

“Now just because we saw you in a blanket doesn’t mean we want to go there with you Em,” Fred teased from her left.

“Would you mind telling me where we are and what we’re doing?” she snapped, losing patience with these boys. She was tired and hungry, all she wanted was to go to her room and sleep. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“You get so feisty on your own Em it’s hilarious.” George laughed as he said the words. Though she knew he couldn’t see her, she blew a raspberry  in the general direction of his voice.

“Well Em we figured you’d be a bit hungry after today,” Fred spoke from in front.

“So we decided to let you in on our Hogwarts secret.” George’s voice sounded by her ear and she felt someone push her forward.

“Voila!” Fred spoke dramatically ask they stepped out into the light once more. In front of Emile was a large portrait of a fruit bowl. She stared at the twins, waiting for them to tell her this was a joke and that they could go to sleep soon.

“Fred, I don’t think she understands.” George looked at his brother with mock disappointment.

“No, I do believe she doesn’t, George.” Fred shook his head disapprovingly. “But I suppose old Finch might come out at any minute so we should get this show on the road.”

They went on either side of Emile and lifted her hand. “All you have to do is tickle the pear,” they said in unison, smiling at Emile. She nervously rubbed the pear on the painting, and jumped back in surprise as it swung open to reveal a passageway. The twins laughed at her astonishment and walked through, leaving Emile to follow behind. Her jaw dropped as she found herself in the immense hogwarts kitchen that was teaming with house elves.

“Oh, Masters George and Fred have arrived!” squeaked one of them. Suddenly, a whole wave of house elves ran towards the group. Once the hubbub had died down a notch Fred spoke to the elves.

“Good elves of this castle,” he bagan. “We brought a friend with us today. Please say hello to Mistress Emile.”

Emile blushed at these words. “Gosh Fred, don’t call me Mistress. That sounds so promiscuous.” She turned to the house elves, “Please, just call me Emile.”

Another round of squeaking started up again, hurting Emile’s tired ears.

George stood up on a stool and called for silence. “We came to ask if you maybe had any food to spare.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth had the house elves turned and ran to the nearest cooler, stove or oven. They quickly returned with plates of pumpkin pasties and treacle fudge, bowls of a wide variety of soups and meat of all kinds. Several even carried out a gallon of butterbeer for them to split.

George let out a laugh at Emile’s expression. “Take your pick, Em. We’ll send this up to the common room to be ready when we get back.”

Emile smiled nervously at him before ordering a variety of food. Once they had all taken their pick they thanked the house elves for their generosity they left to follow the dark passageways up to the common room. Emile clung onto George’s arm on the way there, uncomfortable in the dark passageways.

Once they reached the portrait of the fat lady George leaned over to Emile. “You can let go now,” he whispered in her ear. Emile quickly let go, blushing, and stuck her hands into her pockets.

Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her before saying “pig snout” to the tired portrait. Emile rolled her eyes at him before entering the common room.

Sure enough, on a table by the fire pit sat the pile of food they had ordered just moments ago in the kitchen. A house elf sitting by the pile nodded and disapparated once it caught sight of the three approaching.

WIth a huge smile on her face Emile dove into the feast before her. She downed a bowl of creamy tomato soup before helping herself to candied yams and roast duck with plum sauce. As the three ate in silence they received a few jealous looks from a few of the older students who were up late studying. Once she finished her main course Emile helped herself to a mug of warm butterbeer and a pumpkin pastie as she sat on the puffy couch, staring absentmindedly into the fire dying in the fireplace.

“Some feast, eh Em?” Fred asked between bites of food. Emile smiled and took a sip of her butterbeer.

“I might never eat in the great hall again,” she said smiling at nothing in particular. At the moment Emile was perfectly content, warm with a full stomach, by the fire.

The Weasley twins however seemed to take this very seriously.

“Emile,” Fred began awkwardly, looking at his brother for backup.

“You need to get out more, all you do is hide in the library between meals and classes.” Fred let out an exasperated sigh as George finished his sentence somewhat abruptly.

“I was trying to be subtle George, that was much too blunt,” he criticized his twin.

George shrugged and looked at Emile expectantly.

Emile stared at them nervously. She wasn’t going to come out and say she had anxiety to these two, she hardly knew them and they would never understand. They were too… happy.

“I already told Angelina that i’d join them for meals, what more do you want from me?” Emile turned away from the boys and stared into the fire.

“We’ll have to get back to you about that.” Fred smiled and winked at his brother. Emile smiled weakly, the events of the past day making her eyelids heavy. She soon fell asleep to the sound of the boys hushed chatter.

Emile awoke a few hours later to the sound of a slamming door and running feet. She sat up on the sofa to find Fred and George gone, the half full gallon of butterbeer abandoned on the table with a note attached to it.

Em, you fell asleep.

Keep the rest of this, we have some extra hidden away in our dorms.

F & G

Behind her the sound of scuffling feet grew louder and she turned to find a group of panting first years collapsing into the armchairs.

“What are they thinking, keeping a dog like that locked up in a school?” the twins younger brother, Ron spoke, still gasping for breath. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

Hermione glared at him, her arms crossed. “You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” the famous Harry Potter suggested, leaning closer to the bushy haired lass. “I’m sorry I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy looking at its heads.”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “It was standing on a trapdoor. It obviously guarding something.” She stood up abruptly, her hair bouncing. “Now if you don’t mind i'm going to bed, before either one of you comes up with another idea to get us all killed, or worse expelled.”

As Hermione sauntered off towards the girls dormitories Emile heard Ron quietly mutter to Harry, “She needs to sort out her priorities.” Emile couldn’t help but smile, as odd as that exchange had been. What was there at Hogwarts that could possibly need guarding?

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were typically uneventful for Emile. After awhile she got used to the Weasley twins dragging her off the dark secret passageways of the school for some reason or another. Lee Jordan was often present around the twins so Emile had started getting used to his company as well. She also found herself eating breakfast with Angelina and Katie Bell, who were not as girly girl as she had made them out to be. They took Quidditch very seriously and had freaked when they heard that Emile had never played it.
One afternoon on her way up the stairs to Divination she was stopped by a tall fellow whom she thought she knew quite well.
“Emile I need to ask you something.”
“What do you want, Diggory?” Emile snapped. She was still upset with him for ignoring her since she’d been sorted into Gryffindor. If he could talk with Cho, a Ravenclaw, then he shouldn’t have any problem talking to her.
“I’ve been worried about Mom and Dad,” he said in a low voice as some of his Hufflepuff pals walked by them, leering at Cedric as they passed. “They haven’t been sending any letters recently and I was wondering if you knew why?”
Emile raised her hand to her forehead. She had forgotten to give Cedric the letter from Mr. Diggory.
“Yes, I do know I’m so sorry I forgot to give you the letter the day I broke my leg and-”
“You broke your leg?!” Cedric stared at Emile as if she’d grow a second head. “How could you break a leg, you never do anything active!”
Emile frowned at her cousin, beginning to understand why the twins and Lee saw him as an arrogant git. “Cedric I fell down the stairs, but that’s besides the point.”
“You fell down the stairs? When? I don’t remember any of this happening.” Cedric raised his hand in the air in defeat and sat down on the stairs.
“Cedric, you arse,” Emile sighed. “It was a few weeks ago, but-”
“When exactly did this happe-”
“YOUR PARENTS WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT CORMAC HAS PASSED AWAY AND THEY ARE WAITING FOR A NEW OWL.” Emile covered Cedric’s mouth with her hand as she yelled in his ear. Cedric stared at her, dumbstruck.
“They also say it's up to us whether we go home or stay for the holiday’s,” Emile continued without waiting for a response, not willing to get interrupted again. “If you do return home then you will end up going to the Minister’s christmas dinner.”
With that said Emile turned and hurried up the rest of the stairs leading up to the Divination room. She was not at all willing to get a detention for being tardy on Halloween.
Emile heard Cedric come into class a few minutes later, or rather she heard his friends greeting him loudly as she attempted to read Alicia’s tea leaves. She growled at the cup as she flipped through her book, unwilling to admit that she felt guilty for yelling.
Alicia smiled across the small table at her. “Problem’s with Cedric?”
Emile smiled slightly at her. “Not really, the problems more with me.”
Later that day Emile found herself walking towards the library for the first time in over a week. She missed her little corner of solitude, the Weasley’s seemed determined to keep her away from it. Emile chose this time to go because Fred, George and Lee were busy cleaning up the mess they made in potions, and that was bound to take them awhile.
As Emile slipped through the narrow crack by the wall her foot got caught in the opening. She yanked her foot in, only for her shoe to come off in the process. She stuck her hand out, groping around at nothing before she felt something else grab her hand.
Emile shrieked and yanked her hand back. Her shriek turned into a groan as a familiar looking red head stuck his head in with a grin.
“So this is your little hiding place, huh Em?” George laughed at Emile, who was sprawled on the floor. He sat down on the floor next to her and hit her in the back with a pillow.
“Shush George,” Emile laughed. “Madam Pince can still hear what’s going on in here.”
“Well then let me fix that.” George whispered in her ear. She gave him a glare and he laughed, whipping his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the narrow crack that served as an entrance.
“Muffliato!’ he said with a dramatic wave of his wand. Emile looked at him curiously. “I found it in one of Percy’s books once,” he explained. “Fills the ears of anyone nearby with buzzing so that they can’t hear you.”
Emile rolled her eyes and took her shoe from him. As she put it back on George leaned over and began rummaging through her sack.
“Can you not?” Emile grabbed the bag from him and held it against her chest. George smiled and lay down on the floor next to her.
“Did you do all this?” He looked over at her, pointing to the lanterns floating above them.
Emile nodded. “George why are you here? Shouldn’t you be back at Snapes?”
He laughed. “Snape decided he couldn’t handle the three of us so he sent me out. Besides, I couldn’t let you go off on your own to mope now could I?”
“Who said I was going to mope?” Emile punched him in the arm before taking the potions book out of her bookbag. “I was just going to do some studying.”
George closed his eyes next to her. “Wake me up when it’s nearly dinnertime.”
As Emile returned to deciphering the scribbles on the pages of the potions book from Snape. After she had written out the instructions found on one of the pages for the draught of living death, a loud snore startled her. She turned her head towards the sleeping redhead next to her. Even while sleeping there was still a smile on his face.
Emiel hesitantly reached for her sketchbook and muggle pencil, opening the book to a clean page. As she sketched the sleeping redhead she felt calm. She hadn’t felt this free for a long time. But as she sat back to admire her work the intrusion of another redhead broke her calm atmosphere, and a wave of anxiety came flooding over her.
“Hey nice hiding place Em.” Fred sat down on the pillows next to her and looked over at the sketchbook Emile was trying to cover up. “Hey, is that-”
“Please don’t tell him!” Emile panicked as Fred took the sketchbook from her, hiding her face in her hands.
Fred flipped through the sketchbook slowly. “Emile, these are really good.” He closed the book and placed it on her lap before putting a hand on her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I tell him?”
“I, I don’t know. I feel like he’d make fun of me.” Emile chewed on her lip as she put the sketchbook back into her bookbag.
“You’re scared he’ll take it the wrong way.” Emile looked up at Fred, surprised at this new sincere side of him.
“Well, yeah. I guess you could put it that way.” Emile let out a sigh. “Is it that hard to remain just friends?”
Fred didn’t respond, he simply stared off into space, nodding his head.
After a few minutes of silence George let out an earth shattering snore and they both jumped, laughing.
“How did you find us anyways?” Emile asked Fred, the thought suddenly occurring to her.
Fred smiled and pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment out of his robe pocket. He tapped it with his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” The parchment immediately began to change.
As Fred unfolded it Emile let out a gasp. In front of her was a detailed map of the entire school, it even showed the people moving around. There was Hermione, in the girls bathroom, and Angelina and Katie out on the Quittage field. It even showed Dumbledore, pacing in his office.
“Great isn’t it?” Fred beamed down at the parchment. “It’s called the Marauders Map, nicked it out of Filch's office our first year.”
Emile let out a laugh. “Well that explains all the secret passageways.”
Fred smiled at her and they spent the next half hour looking over the map. Fred showed Emile all of the secret passageways, some in the school and some outside of it. As the time slowly passed they noticed a fair amount of people moving towards the great hall.
“Bloody hell it looks like the feasts about to start.” Fred took out his wand and tapped the map, this time saying “Mischief Managed.” Emile watched in amazement as it turned into a simple piece of parchment once again.
As she closed up her bookbag, Fred stood up and sat on George, waking him up.
“Come on ugly,” he teased as he slipped through the narrow entrance. George sat up, his hair ruffled, as Emile laughed and followed Fred. Once they were all outside of the library they ran down to the great hall laughing, sliding down the railings on the side of the stairs as they passed them.
The decorations in the great hall were no short of magnificent. Gigantic pumpkins floated in midair, the candles inside of them flickering as live bats swooped in and out of them. Dark storm clouds covered the ceiling, an occasional shock of lightning flashing across it. The three took a seat across from Lee and Angelina, and the feast soon began.
The house elves in the kitchen had done an amazing job, the food quality surpassed that of the welcoming feast. Emile had just passed Harry a plate of jacket potatoes when someone ran into the hall.
“Troll! Troll in the dungeons!” Professor Quirrell ran past the tables of students and paused in front of the headmaster.”Just thought you ought to know,” he said with a weak smile, and promptly fainted.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the screaming began. Emile sat in stunned silence as she looked around at the terrified school kids with a bemused expression. It took several purple firecrackers from Dumbledore to regain some form of order.
“Prefects, lead your houses to their dormitories,” Dumbledore bellowed. Percy Weasley sprang up, eager to take his place.
“Follow me! Stick together, first years! As long as you’re with me the troll can’t hurt you! Stick close! Excuse me, I’m a Prefect!”
Fred and George followed their brother, imitating his every move. Once they reached the dormitories Percy had had enough, and he went up to the dorms. Emile collapsed onto one of the sofas by Lee and the twins.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Lee winked at Emile from the the sofa next to her. She threw a pillow at him.
“This is no laughing matter Lee,” she said in mocking voice. “I was planning on going down to the kitchen to get dinner leftovers later.”
The three boys began to laugh, probably because they had been planning to do the same thing.
“So anyways,” Lee threw the pillow back at Emile. “The holiday Hogsmeade visit is coming up.”
Fred looked up from the game of wizard chess he had started with George. “That isn’t for over a month, Lee.”
“But you know how Emile gets with planning,” Lee rolled his eyes at Fred before turning to Emile.
“I’m right here you know,” Emile frowned and the boys laughed again.
“Emile, you should come with us to Hogsmeade,” Lee smiled at her.
George laughed in the background. “Emile, I believe old man Lee here is inviting you out on a date.”
“Lee said ‘us’, George, implying that all three of you would be there,” Emile snapped at the redhead. He smiled but then groaned as Fred took out his King.
“I’m going to my room.” Emile picked up her bag and left the boys, climbing up the stairs to her dormitory. As she entered the room the first thing she noticed was her bed. In fact, all the beds in the room were lying in pieces on the floor.
“Merlins beard! Angelina, what’s going on?” Angelina smiled widely at Emile as she entered.
“Emile! We were going to surprise you!” Angelina pulled Emile over to one of the whole beds. “Look at this!”
The girls had taken apart their beds to move the mattress up higher, so that an enclosure was created underneath. The Curtains once surrounding each of the beds now hung from the ceiling.
“It’s called a ‘loft bed’” Katie said, coming back from her corner of the room where she had just finished constructing hers. “We learned about them in Muggle studies, aren’t they fascinating?”
“I think they’re intriguing.” Emile smiled at Angelina, who smiled back at her before running off to complete Emile’s loft bed. Once all of them were completed, Emile pulled out her wizard camera. They all crowded around one of the loft beds and smiled as one of the second years took their photo. This was one for the photo albums.

Chapter Text

As they moved further into November the weather grew colder and colder. Sudden rainstorms were now expected during the day, and it wasn’t uncommon for thunderstorms to occur during the nights. The only thing that anyone had to look forward to was the first Gryffindor quidditch match of the year.

Oliver Wood was beside himself, constantly pacing around the common room and muttering while working out quittage strategies in a notebook. The twins were completely relaxed, playing exploding snap in the corner as Lee commented in preparation for his first big game.

Harry Potter was the most nervous out of everyone. The day of the big game he barely ate anything for breakfast.

“You’ve got to eat some breakfast, Harry.”

“I don’t want anything.” Harry turned away from Hermione.

“Just a bit of toast,” she begged.

“I’m not hungry.”

Fred and George were oblivious to Harry’s despair as they stole food off Emile’s plate next to her. She slapped their hands and the food scattered across the table. George pouted at Emile as she stole one of his sausages, smiling.

“Harry you need your strength,” said another male first year. “Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team.” Fred and George let out snickers beside Emile so she didn’t hear what Harry had said in response.

By eleven o’clock a majority of the school had headed outside to watch the game. Emile reluctantly sat behind Ron and Hermione in the stands. She felt very lonely, all of her new friends were on the team, so she didn’t have anyone to sit with.

As both teams entered the pitch Emile smiled slightly. Fred and George were waving gallantly to the crowd, while the girls stared ahead at Oliver Wood, who marched confidently up to Madame Hooch.

“Now I want a nice, clean game. All of you.” Madame Hooch glared at the Slytherin team before grabbing her whistle. “Mount your brooms, please.” Once everyone had clambered onto their brooms she blew the whistle, and the game was on.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by the Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson -what an excellent chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too-”

“Jordan!” McGonagall roared behind him. Emile turned to the commentators stand where Lee was sitting and watched as he grinned sheepishly and apologized before returning to the game.

Emile turned to watch the quittage match. Though she had heard plenty about it from Cedric, (Emile’s chest tightened at the thought of him) she had never actually seen a game. She struggled to follow along for a several minutes, finally catching up just moments before “GRYFFINDOR SCORES” boomed over the fields.

Just then the Gamekeeper, Hagrid, walked over and joined Ron and Hermione. Emile was forced to move up a few rows to see over Hagrid’s head. She found that she didn’t feel to sad about this, Ron and Hermione hadn’t been great company anyways.

She watched Harry circle the field above the game, scanning the field for the golden snitch. He narrowly avoided a bludger that Fred was streaking after. Fred yelled something to him, but he was quickly distracted Lee.

“Chaser Bucey ducks two bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the-wait a moment, was that the snitch?”

Harry seemed to notice where Lee was referring too, seeing that he had suddenly flown downwards when WHAM! Marcus Flint had flown right into Harry, obviously attempting to block him.

As the crowd began shouting its disapproval, and Emile chose this moment to take out her sketchbook. As she doodled on an empty page, she heard the game continue, and Lee attempting to remain neutral up in the stands. Time passed rather quickly as she doodled. It wasn’t until the deep voice of Hagrid sounded that Emile looked up, startled to find Harry Potter struggling to climb back onto his broom.

Once he got on he went into an incredibly steep dive, clamping his hand over his mouth as he neared the ground and falling off his broom. As Harry sat up he appeared to throw up into his hands, but the confused murmurs turned to cheers as Harry held up the golden snitch.

Emile jumped up and down clapping before grabbing her book and running down to the field. She hugged everyone on the team, excluding Harry who had run off with his friends and Hagrid.

Fred laughed and picked her up as she hugged him. “If I put you down will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” Emile responded, remembering after a moment who she was talking to, Her face dropped.

Fred laughed. “Relax Em, i’m not gonna make you kiss me.”

“Oh thank god, I wouldn’t want to get rabies.” Emile covered her mouth the moment the words came out, but Fred look over at her, thrilled.

“Emile, you finally started to come out of your shell!” He hugged her tightly, pretending to sob. “Show us your sarcastic side more often, you blonde git.”

Emile pushed him away, smiling. “What did you want me to do?”

“Well, we need to go shower before we head up to the common room, could you go down to the kitchen and order the Weasleys normal party platter to be delivered in half an hour?” Fred looked at her pleadingly.

“Of course.” Emile grabbed her bookbag and waved at George before walking up to the school from the pitch. As she passed Marcus Flint she heard him yelling at Madam Hooch about the snitch and the unfairness of the catch. Smirking, Emile rushed up to the castle, following a group of Hufflepuffs down towards the fruit painting. She knew that their dormitory was somewhere further down the hall.

Once the coast was clear Emile tickled the pear and stepped through the passageway. She walked down the tunnel, entering the bustling kitchen filled with house elves.

“Mistress Emile!” one squeaked as she approached them. “How may we be of service?”

“Oh, the Weasley’s sent me with a request, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

The elf wiped a tear from her eye. “You are very kind, Mistress. It is never too much trouble for an elf. What to the Weasleys require of us?”

“They wish for the usual party platter to be delivered to the Gryffindor common room in half an hour.” Emile smiled at the Elf as she spoke.

The elf bowed deeply. “Of course, Mistress Emile. Will you be requiring anything else?”

Emile thought for a moment. “Actually, I was wondering if I could make a dinner request for next thursday.”

“It’s uncommon but it can be done, Miss Emile.” the house elf squeaked.

“Excellent.” Emile pulled out one of the muggle study books she had borrowed from the library. “In which case could you please make the contents of this page?” she said, handing the book to the elf. The elf nodded and disapparated, leaving Emile satisfied.

As she exited the kitchen she heard a voice call her name. Emile quickly shut the portrait and swiped a hair away from her face, attempting to act casual.

“Merlin’s beard Emile what are you doing?” Cedric rolled his eyes at her as his group of friends passed. They snickered at her and Cedric glared for a moment before winking at her.

Emile glared at him and turned away, not bothering to respond. As the boys walked away she slipped into the secret passageway across from the portrait and ran along the familiar route to the moving staircases. She could feel her skin prickling uncomfortably. Cedric was her friend, why was he so different at school? What were these different personalities he showed everyone?

“Pig Snout,” she muttered at the painted lady, who swung open for her. As she entered the room she saw a small group of house elves decorating it with streamers in the Gryffindor colors. They bowed to her before returning to their decorating.

Emile snuck up the stairs to her dorm, she could see everyone still celebrating at the quittage pitch below as she left her bookbag under her new loft bed. She had to say she really enjoyed these beds, it left more personal space for everyone in their wedges of the room.

Emile had hung a dark cloth that resembled the night sky, with enchanted stars that twinkled, over the side of the bed to make an enclosed space underneath for her. She often drew the cloth back but when the rest of the room wanted to sleep she would draw the makeshift curtains shut to complete homework or study or just simply to read.

Emile drew the curtains shut for a moment as she changed from her school robes into jeans and a gryffindor tee shirt. She paused to look at herself in the full length mirror on the wall, staring into her own blue grey eyes. Her thin rimmed glasses were sitting on her nose, her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail.

Emile pulled her hairband out and let her hair fall around her shoulders. No, that looked bad too. with a sigh she stuck it up into a messy bun, leaving some of her bangs hanging out. She smiled into the mirror. Damn gurl.

Just then Angelina and Alicia burst into the room, followed by Katie Bell.

“Emile!” they all cried in unison.

“Did you decorate the common room?” Alicia asked from her corner of the room.

Emile faked a confused expression. “Decorated the common room? Of course not, why would it ever be decorated.”

The girls laughed and drew their curtains shut to change out of their quidditch robes. Emile grinned and left the room, skipping down the stairs and into the common room. When she entered the fully decorated and food filled space, she felt someone pick her up and throw her onto one of the sofa’s.

“Lee!” she screamed, hitting the dark haired boy in the arm. He laughed and sat down next to her.

“What did you think of your first quidditch game?” He asked. “Wasn’t the commentary outstanding?”

“Yes, I think Angelina loved all the things you said about her.” Emile winked at Lee as he blushed.

As he attempted to think of a comeback Emile noticed tanks of butterbeer in the corner, and went to go get some. As she sipped the frothy substance she sat down next to Lee, who was now accompanied by Oliver Wood and Katie. She listened as they discussed the match, Wood was simply bursting with happiness. As she placed her mug down Wood laughed and reached over to wipe her butterbeer foam mustache off of her face.

“Oi Wood,” a familiar voice rang behind her. “I don’t think you want to be making any moves on Em here.”

“Yes she’s a wild one, isn’t she Fred.” the redhead winked at his brother as they sat down on the sofa with Lee and Emile, who fell onto the floor due to lack of space. WIth a glare at the laughing redheads she sat down in an armchair facing the sofas, grabbing a pumpkin pastie from a tray nearby as she did.

Emile began to drift off into sleep as she listened to the conversation and laughter around her. After a few attempts at resisting the wave of drowsiness she decided to give in, just for a three minute nap. However when she awoke to the sound of voices in the common room, she realized it had been more of a three hour nap. It was dark outside and all of the food was gone from the room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were heading across the common room, each clutching some books and whispering intently. As they passed Emile’s armchair she heard a mention of a ‘Nicholas Flamel’.

Emile rolled her eyes as she stood up from the armchair and stretched for a moment before heading up to her bed. When she finally fell asleep again she would find that she wouldn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day, and she wouldn’t remember anything about Nicholas Flamel.

A week later, dinner surprised everyone in muggle studies as a feast consisting of turkey, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, candied yams, and cranberry sauce amongst an abundance of vegetables such as various styles corn and peas appeared on the tables. A dessert consisting of a large variety of pies followed. The muggle studies professor, Charity Burbage, began to weep from the staff table, and Emile couldn’t help but smile throughout the entire meal. 

Chapter Text

Christmas was coming. One freezing morning in mid december, Emile and the rest of Hogwarts awoke to find the castle covered in several feet of snow. The lake was frozen over and Fred and George received detention for bewitching snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell and bounce of his turban.

The hallways had grown frosty and cold, most students ran from class to class now in an attempt to retain some warmth outside. It was always a relief to enter the great hall or a common room, which always had steady fires going.

A week before Christmas, Professor McGonagall had come around with a signup sheet for everyone who would be staying at Hogwarts during the holidays. Emile had not hesitated to sign up, both unwilling to attend another boring dinner and to spend two weeks alone with Cedric. She was surprised to see the Weasley’s on the list, but as it turned out their parents were going to visit their oldest brother, Charlie, in Romania and wouldn’t be home.

As Emile was walking down to the dungeons for her final class, potions, she found her way blocked by a ginormous fir tree. Hagrid was at the other end, pulling it down the corridor.

“Good day, Hagrid,” she said with a smile.

“Well, hello there, Emile.” he smiled and dropped the tree for a moment, breathing heavily. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could quickly climb by, I’m on my way to potions, you see.” Hagrid stepped back with a grin and Emile thanked him, clambering over and under the large branches until she was in front of the stairs to the dungeons.

“Thank you!” she called through the greenery, a muffled response echoed back to her before the tree began to move again.

On her way down to the potions room Emile found herself face to face with Ron and Harry. They both looked quite flustered, so she let them pass her without any comment.

As she entered the potions room Professor Snape looked up from the front of the room.

“Good afternoon, Miss Gorska.”

“Good afternoon, Professor.” Emile sat down in her assigned spot near the center of the room before turning to face the front.

After a moment of silence Snape put down the papers he was grading.

“Miss Gorska, I see you did not receive my notice that I have cancelled today’s lesson.” Professor Snape glared from the front of the room, Emile could feel her cheeks turning red.

“No, I did not Professor. I’m very sorry I’ll leave immediately.” Emile began putting her potions textbooks back into her book bag as she stood up from her chair.

“I expect you will be going home for the holidays, Miss Gorska,” Snape said after a moment, without looking up from the paper he was reading over.

“I don’t believe that is your business, Professor.” Emile frowned at Snape as he looked up with a slightly amused expression on his face.

“Miss Gorska, would you come here for a moment?”

Emile hesitantly approached the Professor’s desk. Snape reached into one of the cupboards behind him and brought out a small cage.

“Miss Gorska, considering that you were the only to survive the ordeal I do believe I ought to give her to you.” Professor Snape handed the cage to a surprised Emile. “Merry Christmas.”

Inside the cage was the young rat Emile had used the shrinking solution on. Now a few months old, the tiny white thing with orange patches hobbled around the cage on unsteady feet. Emile couldn’t help but smile as the tiny black eyes met hers.

“Thank you, Professor Snape.” Emile hugged the surprised man, overwhelmed with emotion. He stood there rigid as a statue until she let go and exited the dungeons.

Emile hadn’t expected to receive many presents this year. Perhaps the usual christmas money from her father and a knitted scarf from Mrs. Diggory, but that was it. As she carried the small rat to her room she watched it scuttle around its tiny cage.

“I don’t know what i’ll name you,” she whispered to it as she set the cage down on her old nightstand before heading down to the great hall for dinner. As she followed a group of Ravenclaws towards the great hall she tripped and fell right on top of Fred Weasley.

“Merlin’s beard, George, I didn’t mean trip her onto me.” he laughed as he helped Emile up.

“Where are you going with such a smile on your face?” George linked arms with Emile on one side as George linked arms on the other.

“Lee try to snog you again?” Fred teased, remembering the events of last Hogsmeade weekend.

“He wouldn’t have tried that if he hadn’t had that fire whiskey.” Emile defended Lee, knowing fully well he had his eye on Angelina. “Actually, I just received my first christmas present, and my first pet.”

“Blimey, and I thought it was something important,” George said, wrinkling his nose. Emile laughed and shoved him away from her.

“A pet? From who?” Fred asked as George linked arms with him on his other side.

“Snape, surprisingly enough. He gave me the rat I used the shrinking solution on, it’s simply adorable.”

“Snape?” The twins stared at Emile as if she’d grown a second head.

“Yes, Professor Snape. You know, the potions master?” Emile laughed at their shock as they entered the great hall. It looked magnificent, holly and mistletoe hung from the walls and no less than twelve glistening trees stood around the room, some covered in icicles and others in tiny candles.

“It looks lovely,” Emile smiled as they walked over to the Gryffindor table.

“Emile!” someone called from behind her. The twins turned with Emile as Cedric walked up to her.

He looked over at the two redheads. “Could you excuse us for a moment?”

“Emile, holler if you need backup,” Fred whispered into her ear as they walked away.

Cedric looked at Emile. “So.”

“So.” Emile crossed her arms and looked him in the eyes.

“Heard you’re staying behind for the holiday’s,” he muttered, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, and?” Emile frowned.

“I know you’ve been avoiding me, Emile, i’m not stupid.” Cedric looked at her somewhat sadly. “I just wanted to give you your christmas present before I left tomorrow morning. I know you sleep in on the weekends.”

Now it was Emile’s turn to look surprised as Cedric pulled out a small box from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Oh, um thanks, Cedric.” Emile stammered. “I sent your present home along with gifts for your parents.”

Cedric smiled. “It no problem. I’ll see you later, Merry Christmas Em.”

“You too, Ced.” Emile smiled as she slipped the small box into her bookbag. Cedric smiled back before heading over to the Hufflepuff table, and Emile to the Gryffindor.

“What did the git want?” George asked as she sat down across from him, helping herself to a bit of roast duck.

“Oh, he just wanted to wish me merry christmas and give me a present.” Emile shrugged as she placed a bit of chicken ceaser salad onto her plate.

“And you accepted it?” Fred shook his head in mock disappointment.

“He’s my cousin, Fred, of course I did.” Emile rolled her eyes and took a bite of salad.

George laughed at his brother and dinner continued without any interruptions.

Once the holidays began, Emile found herself sleeping more and more. She didn’t care about her appearance anymore, and often walked around the castle in her flannel pajamas and a blanket. During the evenings she sat in the common room with the Weasleys and Harry, telling jokes and roasting marshmallows on a toasting fork over the fire.

“Have you ever tried s’mores?” Emile asked them one evening, Christmas Eve.

“What the bloody hell are shmoes?” Fred laughed next to her, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Don’t muggles make them when they go camping?” Percy asked from the sofa behind them where he was busy writing out a letter.

“Yes, thank you Percy.” Emile smiled at him. She turned to the twins. “Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen for supplies?”

They nodded eagerly, probably excited to finally leave the common room. Sitting around the castle had made them pretty lazy, even with the occasional trip outside for a snowball fight.

The three of them flew down to the kitchen, the blanket Emile had around her shoulders billowing behind her like a cape. They arrived at the portrait gasping for breath.

“Go on Em, this is your plan,” George said once he’d caught his breath. Emile smiled at him and tickled the pear, watching as the door swung open and she crept into the warm kitchen. Many of the house elves were out cleaning the castle at this time of evening, but a few remained in the kitchen.

“Mistress Emile!” one cried.

“Master Weasley’s!” said another.

Soon a small congregation of house elves was gathered around the group.

“How may we help you?” one chirped, looking up at them.

“I was wondering if we could have a box of graham crackers, two bars of dark chocolate, and another bag of marshmallows sent up to the Gryffindor common room, if it isn’t too much trouble.” Emile smiled sweetly at the house elves, who immediately tripped over each other in an attempt to fulfill the request first.

“And a pot of hot chocolate!” the twins chimed at the same time, grinning at each other.

Emile laughed. “That will be all, I guess.” She bowed to the house elves. “Thank you very much.”

A chorus of “no problem” and “it was fine” followed the three of them out the portrait door, and they ran back up to the common room, this time with considerably more effort since they were running up the stairs instead of down them.

Once they were back by the fire, Emile showed the twins and Percy how to make s'mores, Harry and Ron had started a game of wizard's chess in their absence.

“I think mines toasted Emile,” Percy said as he took his browned marshmallow away from the fireplace.

“Good, give it here.” Emile took the marshmallow from him and placed it on top of a piece of chocolate. She quickly sandwiched the two between two graham crackers and handed it to Percy, who took a greedy bite.

“Iths rewy goowed!” he mumbled with his mouth full. “However did you learn how to make these?”

“An american cousin on my father’s side.” Emile smiled, remembering Alex fondly.

As Fred and George finished their own s’mores, Emily made two more and took them over to Ron and Harry.

“Try these while they’re still hot,” she told them, placing the plate next to the chessboard. As the two grumbled their thanks, their mouths full, Emile headed back to the fireplace, sitting down between the twins.

“I didn’t know you had an american cousin.” George looked over at Emile once they had finished most of the marshmallows and all of the chocolate. Fred was pouring them all hot chocolate from a large pot that had been heating over the fire.

“Well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, George Weasley.” She smiled at the redhead as Fred handed out the cups of hot chocolate. Emile took a few of the marshmallows and broke them into several smaller pieces, dropping them into her hot coco.

“Emile Gorska you are a genius,” Percy said behind her as he copied what she had done.

Harry and Ron finished their game of wizard’s chess and went up to their dorms.

Once the hot coco had been drunk and the clock struck midnight, Emile decided to retire for the night, somewhat remorsefully.

“Don’t you get lonely up there all alone?” asked George, watching her stand up.

“A bit,” Emile admitted.

George stood up and grabbed her shoulders, smiling. “Meet us down here in ten minutes, and bring your mattress and sleeping stuff.”

Emile gave George a hug, surprised when he hugged her back. She ran up the stairs to her dorms and grabbed her mattress, blanket, and pillow. Before she left she took the rat, which she had named Carrot and poured in some rat food Mr. Diggory had sent her yesterday. No doubt Cedric had told him about her new pet.

Emile placed the mattress on the stairs and leaned forwards slightly, laughing as she slid down them. Apparently Fred had had the same idea, because as she slid down the stairs and into the common room she crashed into another mattress. They looked at each other and laughed before getting up and pulling their mattresses over in front of the fire, pushing some of the sofas aside to make room. Fred put his mattress in the middle, directly in front of the fire. Emile smiled and put hers to the right of his, leaving George (who slid down the stairs a moment later) to put his on Fred’s left.

Once they were all tucked in, Emile smiling, it didn’t take long for Fred to fall asleep. His snores echoed softly around the common room. Emile grinned as she stared into the fire, her glasses off.

“Em?” came a whisper across from her.

“George?” she whispered back, turning in the general direction of his voice. Her eyesight without her glasses was terrible, but she had the general idea of where his head was.

“Yeah. You awake?”

“No kidding,” Emile laughed softly, her laugh breaking off as she let out a yawn.

“Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question,” he said, and though Emile couldn’t see him she could hear the smile in his voice.

They sat in silence, Emile watching the tiny flames flicker weakly. After a few minutes a thought occurred to her.

“Hey George?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” came the response.

“Why were you guys so determined to befriend me?” Emile turned to where she assumed he was. “You know, back at the beginning of the year.”

George thought about it for a moment. “Well, you just seemed like you needed a friend. And we did kind of see you in nothing but a blanket.”

Emile laughed. “So what, your male hormones said to you ‘hey she’s got nice gams we’d better befriend her?’”

George was laughing too. “No, Emile nothing like that. You’re a great friend, but I can’t imagine dating you.”

Emile paused for a moment, unsure why these words hurt her the way they did.

“Would it be weird if I asked why not?” she said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Well, you just aren’t really, my type.” George yawned after he said these words. “Anyways I think I’ll try to sleep now. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Emile whispered as the last flames died in the fireplace, leaving only the dying embers.

Emile woke up in the morning to the sounds of laughter. The twins were sitting up on their mattresses, looking through their presents. Their piles were considerably larger than Emile’s, but she smiled anyways as she sat up, stretching.

“Morning,” they chimed in unison as she crawled over to the edge of her bed, the tank top she slept in slipping off one of her shoulders. Emile grumbled as she pulled it back up, Fred blushing next to her.

“Look Emile, our mum sent you a parcel too!” George smiled as he pulled a bulky parcel from the bottom of her pile. Emile grinned as she took it from him, carefully opening it up to find a thick, red, knitted sweater with a large E on the front of it.

“It’s lovely!” she beamed as she slipped it on, the soft inside warming her cold arms.

She opened the rest of her presents, a box of thick socks from the Diggory’s (which the twins scoffed at but Emile was delighted with), a book about Quidditch from her three roommates, and a large box of her favorite muggle candies (along with a letter) from her father. From Cedric, she received a small glass orb that when placed over a light, showed all the constellations depending on where you were and what time of year it was.

“Emile you shouldn’t have.” The twins exclamation made her turn towards them. She had gotten them maroon hats and scarves that matched their hair color.

“Now it’ll be even harder for mom to tell us apart,” Fred laughed as he ran up to the boys dormitories with George.

Emile smiled and picked up the scraps of paper that littered the floor of the common room, throwing them away before returning to carry her presents up to her room. When she returned to fetch her mattress and blankets, Fred and George appeared from the boys dorms with a struggling Percy.

“See Percy? Even Emile’s got a jumper from mom!” George said to his older brother as Percy attempted to fix his glasses, which were falling off of his face.

“Seriously George!” Emile said in an exasperated tone as she fixed the poor man’s glasses.

George winked at her as they let his brother go, going off to help Fred take their mattresses back to their room. Emile followed them, sighing.

Christmas dinner that evening was spectacular. Emile had put on a knee length black dress under her official Weasley jumper and black high tops. She was a firm believer in not wearing high heels, much to the disapproval of Mrs. Diggory. They messed up womans feet something awful.

Since there were so few students at the school for the holidays, they all sat at one table filled with platters of chipolatas, buttered peas, turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce, and both roasted and mashed potatoes. Wizard crackers sat in piles every few feet along the table. Fred and Harry pulled one of the crackers to find a red-admirals hat and several live white mice inside. Professor Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flower bonnet.

After the main course came flaming christmas pudding, Percy nearly broke his tooth on a silver sickle embedded inside his slice. Emile found it quite entertaining to watch the adults get more and more drunk. Some, like Hagrid, grew very red in the face while others, such as Professor McGonagall, simply laughed at everything. This was proven when Hagrid kissed her on the cheek and she merrily giggled, her hat lopsided.

Emile joined Harry and the Weasley’s for a snowball fight the rest of the afternoon until the six of them finally returned to the dorms, soaking wet and cold to the bone. Emile took every opportunity to rub the fact that there was no line for a hot shower in the girls dorms into the boys faces. After a tea of turkey, sandwiches, crumpets, and christmas cake, everyone went to their dorms for a good night’s sleep. As Emile watched the stars moving across the ceiling of her dorm she smiled, not being able to remember the last time she had enjoyed christmas this much.

Chapter Text

Once the next term began, Emile found herself in the library more and more often. All of her friends except for Lee were on the Quidditch team, and Oliver was working them harder than ever. Emile had shown Lee her little spot in the library, and he sometimes joined her there to study or to write an essay he had been putting off.

One day at breakfast the twins were unusually silent as they chewed on their toast.

“What happened?” Emile asked and they looked up at her in shock. She let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know something’s up.”

“Well everythings fine, except,” Fred looked over at George.

“Snape’s refereeing my next match,” George mumbled, not holding eye contact with Emile.

Emile restrained from rolling her eyes. Snape would probably be nicer to the Weasley’s if they payed attention in his class, not that they payed attention in many classes.

Just then Lee sat down next to them.

“Hey Lee.” The twins brightened immediately. Emile frowned and left the table.

“See you after potions!” Lee called after her before turning to the redheads.

Emile grumbled as she left the great hall. Was she a bad friend? Is that why they’d been acting so weird around her? With a sigh she trudged up to the library for some last minute studying before Divination.

The days passed by slowly, yet before Emile knew it the big Quidditch game was upon them. Though the twins had been avoiding her recently, she still figured she ought to be there to support her house. She put on her skinny jeans and her honorary Weasley sweater, and after glancing out the window wrapped her gryffindor scarf around her neck.

As she headed down to the Quidditch field, bookbag slung over her shoulder, Emile noticed Neville ahead of her. A knot formed in her stomach as she caught sight of her half brother, he didn’t even know who she was. She followed him down to the field, sitting further down the row from him, Ron, Hermione, who were anxiously whispering about something. A group of Slytherins sat behind them.

As the teams marched onto the field, Emile felt more uncomfortable. There were the twins, who had been behaving oddly towards her, along with her roommates, facing off against her cousin, who had been a complete arse these past few months except when he wasn’t around his hufflepuff friends.

As the game began, a sudden commotion on Emile’s right distracted her. One of the slytherins sitting behind the three first years kept insulting the lot of them. Before Emile could intervene, Harry went into a steep dive in the field, and her attention was distracted once more. As Emile cheered the slytherin leered once more at Ron and he snapped, leaping over the benches on top of him. Neville quickly followed.

Emile tried to go over to stop the fight, but as she got up to move everyone began screaming and clapping. Emile looked over at the pitch to see Harry holding up the snitch. He had caught it within the first five minutes of the game. That put Gryffindor in the lead for the house cup.

Emile sat down on top of the stands as everyone left to celebrate. Why didn’t she feel happy? Her house was in the lead for the house cup, they had just won a record breaking Quidditch match, yet she felt empty inside.

Emile didn’t know how long she stayed outside, but once the sun had almost set and she could no longer feel her hands she decided it was high time to head back inside. As she entered the common room, the first thing that caught her eye was the streamers. Fred and George must have gotten the house elves to bring up the party platter.

Emile kept her eyes down as she walked over to the stairs leading up to the girls dorms, and thankfully no one noticed her. As she changed into her pajamas without bothering to close the curtains, she felt nothing. As she climbed up into her bed at stared at the ceiling, she felt nothing. As she slowly and uneasily drifted off into sleep, she felt nothing.

That night, Emile dreamed. At first she was in a yellow dress, floating in a lake black as stormclouds. She swam over to the shore and went up to a cottage in the woods to find her father inside, drunk and unconscious. Suddenly, he sat up and stared at her, but he had no eyes. Just gaping black holes. Emile ran through the woods, calling for her mother as the bear chased after her. She jumped into the lake, swimming away as fast as she could. Then she fell. And then she screamed.

In the few weeks that followed, Emile didn’t talk to anyone. She began skipping meals, and she devoted all her time to the library. All the professors seemed to have a shared thought that exams were suddenly upon them, even though they were over ten weeks away. The amount of homework Emile had received in classes was overwhelming.

Lee had tried to get Emile to study with him in her hidden space several times, but Emile had simply smiled and said ‘perhaps later.’ Then she sat out by a table near Madam Pince where no one bothered her out of fear of the librarian.

One day, driven more by hunger than need of companionship, Emile attended dinner at the usual time. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, she sat reading at one end of the table, hardly paying attention to the chatter going on around her, yet fully conscious of all the looks people kept giving her.

Halfway through the meal, she decided she had had enough. Stuffing her borrowed copy of Advanced Potion Making into her bookbag, Emile escaped the great hall and headed to the kitchen. Once she entered the room, she sat down in the corner behind some barrels of butterbeer and resumed her reading. Several house elves came up to her and asked is she needed anything, but Emile turned them all away.

“Mistress Emile.” One of the elves sat down next to her.

“Hello Kringle, how are you?” Emile smiled slightly at the house elf next to her.

“I am well, Miss,” Kringle squeaked. “Mistress Emile seems lonely.”

“I just want some solitude, Kringle.” Emile looked over at her book once more.

“If solitude is what Mistress seeks, than solitude Mistress shall get.” Kringle stood up and jumped up and down excitedly. “Follow me. Mistress Emile, follow me!”

Emile stood up and followed the house elf as they exited the kitchen. She led Emile up to the seventh floor, up to a blank wall.

“Mistress Emile must simply walk back and forth three times thinking about what you need.” Kringle said before disapparating, leaving Emile in stunned silence. She stood in front of the wall, waiting for something to happen.

After a few minutes, some very familiar sounding laughter rang throughout the hall, making Emile jump. She hurriedly put together a thought in her mind, running back and forth in front of the wall with her eyes closed.

I need somewhere I can hide from the Weasley’s.

I need somewhere I can hide from the Weasley’s.

I need somewhere I can hide from the Weasleys.

When she opened her eyes a small door had appeared in front of her, resembling that of a  broom cupboard. As she crawled into the opening and slid behind a shelf of brooms Emile was astounded to find, a television. It was sitting amongst a pile of boxes and old cushions.

Emile sat down on one of the cushions and opened one of the nearest boxes. It was filled with a rather large variety of Disney movies. As Emile looked through the boxes she couldn’t help but smile as she pulled out several of her favorite movies. The Little Mermaid, Robin Hood, The Aristocats, and a whole lot more.

But Emile’s happiness was short lived, because a moment later the door opened and two red mops of hair ran in, gasping as they shut the door behind them.

“I don’t remember this being on the map,” George said as he looked around the cupboard.

“Who cares?” Fred backed towards the shelves Emile was sitting behind. “Come over here so Filche doesn’t see us if he decides to check inside.”

Emile ducked behind one of the boxes, curling up into a ball in a miserable attempt to hide herself. And apparently it worked, for a few minutes anyways. As the twins began fiddling with the muggle contraption that was sitting in the broom closet, they also began searching through the boxes. Fred was trying to figure out how the VCR worked as he threw the movies over the sides of the boxes, and Emile let out a small yelp as one hit her on the head.

The twins stared, jaws dropped as Emile sat up, rubbing the back of her head with one hand. She didn’t look them in the eyes as she picked up one of the fallen cassette tapes, this one being the Aristocats, and opened its box. She turned the TV on and put the cassette tape into the VHS. The twins watched in silent amazement as the movie began.

Emile sat in silence a few feet away from them, humming along to the songs. Halfway through the movies George leaned over and dragged her closer to them. Emile gave a small smile but didn’t look at them as George put a blanket around her shoulders.

As the movie credits ended, Emile got up and left the broom cupboard. The twins didn’t stop her from leaving, both of the redheads were sound asleep.

The next morning, when Emile headed down to breakfast she was shocked at what was in front of her. In a course of one night Gryffindor house had lost a hundred and fifty points.

“What happened?” Angelina asked, walking up to Emile. Emile smiled at her roommate, she still considered herself to be on good terms with the members of her sleeping compartment.

“I have no idea, but I think I know someone who might.”

As the Weasley twins entered the great hall Emile cornered them along with Angelina.

“What did you two do?” Angelina snarled as Emile glared at them next to her.

“Why ladies, we’re flattered,” Fred winked at the cross armed teens.

“But I’m afraid we simply cannot take credit for this.” George put his arms around the girls and led them towards the Gryffindor table.

“If not you then who?” Emile asked, ducking away from George’s arm.

George simply shrugged at Emile, smiling as they sat down. Lee walked over to where the third years were sitting, frowning.

“It was Potter,” he announced, sitting down beside Angelina. “He got caught out after hours with Granger and Longbottom.”

Emile choked on her pumpkin juice at the mention of Neville’s name. As she sat coughing in her seat Lee hit her on the back in an attempt to help.

“I’m fine,” she choked out after a moment, taking a tiny sip of her juice to prove it.

“I see why you would react that way, who would have thought Hermione Granger would lose us 50 points?” Angelina said as she took a bite out of her toast.

Emile nodded as she loaded her plate with bacon, silently laughing inside. They thought she was surprised at Hermione. She actually thought it was about time Hermione got into trouble, Ron and Harry had finally started rubbing off onto her.

She looked over at Neville, who was sitting awkwardly with the trio. He often got teased for being forgetful, and it was no doubt going to be worst than ever. As Emile chewed on her bacon, she made a mental note to stop any teasing she heard about Neville in the upcoming week, after that it was exams week and he was on his own.

After a moment of silence, Angelina grabbed Emile’s arm.

“I just realized something,” she stage whispered as Emile leaned closer to her. Emile regretted that decision immediately as Angelina yelled “You’re eating with us!” into her ear.

“Blimey, don’t scare her off, she’s just starting to come around.” Fred laughed as he threw a bit of toast across the table at Angelina. She caught it in her mouth and winked at Fred, who rolled his eyes.

Emile grinned at Lee, who was red in the face next to her. She was being ridiculous, and she had missed her friends.

Chapter Text

The weather had grown quite warm as the end of term drew nearer and nearer. The week of final exams was terrible, especially when they had to stay inside for written exams. The hot stuffy rooms made it much harder to concentrate, Emile wished bitterly (and not for the first time) that muggle items could be brought to school. A large fan would be so welcome at these moments.

After the third years had all taken their Charms exam, the final exam any of them had to take, a large group of them headed down to the lake to celebrate and relax. Emile and the twins ordered a large basket of sandwiches and iced butterbeer from the kitchen before heading outside where they were joined for a picnic by Lee, Angelina, and Alicia. Katie Bell was with her friend Leanne on the Quidditch field, where they were having a friendly competition with a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

As the group ate through the baskets of sandwiches, Lee spotted a giant squid basking in the shallows of the lake. The boys quickly became engrossed in the creature and went down to tickle it in the tentacles.

“Boys.” Alicia rolled her eyes at the girls, smiling, as she reached for another sandwich.

Emile watched the three of them wrestling in the shallows, a plan forming in her mind.

“You know,” she began with a look at the other two, “they left their shoes and socks here, completely unguarded.”

Angelina smiled deviously. “How foolish of them.”

They grabbed the boy’s socks and began to transfigure them in any way they could think of. Emile laughed at the flashing rainbow pattern Alicia had put onto George’s socks.

“It’s time he showed a little pride,” Alicia said as she gestured at Lee’s blank socks in Emile’s hand. “Pass them here will you?”

Emile quickly transfigured the socks into toe socks before chucking them at Alicia. Alicia quickly covered them in sparkling rainbow hearts.

“Aw, they match!” Angelina laughed from where she had grown working wings out of Fred’s socks, which were covered in feathers.

The laughter coming from them seemed to attract the attention of the boys, seeing as they quickly ran up to the picnic location. The girls tried stuffing the socks back into their shoes, but it was a bit hard not to notice the flashing rainbow lights coming from inside.

“You didn’t.” Lee gasped as he removed his toe socks from inside his shoe.

“They did,” the twins responded, smiling at their own socks.

“Marvelous piece of magic, ladies.” Fred admiringly put his feathered socks on, only for them to desperately attempt to fly away. Everyone was on the ground laughing as Fred struggled to maintain a handstand on the slick grass.

“Immobulus!” he shouted, pointing his wand at the socks. The wings immediately stopped flapping and Fred lost his balance, falling onto his face. George helped his brother take the socks off, laughing.

“I think we ought to take revenge, don’t you agree Lee?” George asked the dark skinned boy, who was sitting next to him. Lee nodded, still looking slightly appalled at his lovely toe socks.

Together the three boys tackled the girls and dragged them down to the lake, tossing them into the icy water. After several minutes of wrestling and splashing, Hagrid ran over from his hut with Fang.

“Are ye six out of yer minds?” he said, smiling. “What do ye think yer parents would say if ye come home with hypothermia?”

Laughing, they apologized before heading up to the common room, soaking wet. Not one of them felt bad for the trail of water they left behind, that was Filches problem now.

That night Emile awoke after another nightmare with a desperate need for water. As she headed down groggily to the common room where she knew there was often several pitchers of water left out at night, she tripped over something on the floor.

“What the…?” Emile leaned over, patting the ground next to her with her hands. She had left her glasses and wand back in her room, which proved to be a mistake as she realized a person was petrified on the floor.

“Oh shit! Wait right here!” she said as she ran back up to her room, grabbing her glasses and wand from under her pillow.

“Lumos,” Emile whispered to her wand as she ran back into the common room. She wasn’t at all very surprised to find Neville lying front of her. As she performed the counter charm to the full body bind, he sat up, gasping for breath.

“Blimey, I thought I was going to be here all night.” Neville stood up shakily, holding onto one of the common room arm chairs for support. “Thanks uh…”

“Emile. Emile Gorska,” she muttered as she avoided eye contact with him. “What happened to you, Neville?”

“Hermione. She jinxed me!” Neville frowned. “She left with Harry and Ron, I tried stopping them. Gryffindor doesn’t need any more house points taken from it.”

Emile chewed on her lip for a moment. “Alright Neville, I’ll go get McGonagall. You go to bed.”

“But I-”

“Neville use your common sense, you’ve already gotten into trouble this term, and not that long ago. McGonagall would be furious if you were out of bed at this hour.” Emile looked at her half brother for the first time, wincing as her eyes met his. He looked a lot like their mother.

“Alright,” he muttered after a moment of silence.

“Thank you.” Emile turned swiftly and ran out of the common room and down the stairs to McGonagall’s office. She knocked twice on the heavy wooden door before entering.

“Professor?” Emile stuck her head into the ridy office room.

“I hope you have a good excuse for waking me Miss Gorska.” Emile jumped as McGonagall stepped out of the shadows in her nightgown.

“I do, Professor.” Emile launched into an explanation of what had happened, watching McGonagall grow more and more irritated as she explained.

“Those foolish little... Merlins beard... Potter you,” Professor McGonagall broke off and sighed, putting her hands over her face. “Thank you for informing me, Miss Gorska. Please return to your common room, I will handle this from here.”

Emile nodded before leaving, knowing fully well she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

The next day when everyone woke up, Harry Potter was in the hospital wing for unknown reasons. Many rumors flew around the school, but it wasn’t until he awoke two days later that everyone found out the truth.

Hermione and Ron came back from a hospital visit with Harry with an elaborate tale of challenges and Voldemort and something to do with Quirrell’s head, Emile honestly didn’t pay too much attention to it. She could just ask the twins to write it out for her later in the summer, because Emile was sure Ron would not stop talking about this years events when he got home.

That night at the end of year feast the great hall was covered in green and silver. Slytherin house was sitting triumphantly at their table and even Professor Snape could not wipe a smug look from his face.

Emile had difficulty hearing Dumbledore’s speech over all the whispering going on at the Gryffindor table, so she was surprised to see the glass containing Gryffindor house points suddenly raise in number.

“Shut up!” she hissed, covering Fred’s mouth with her hand as he tried to say something to Lee.

Percy was smiling at everyone around him and Ron’s face had gone purple.

“Hey,” George looked over at the hourglass and then at Ron. “Did he just-”

Several people shushed him.

“Second- to Miss Hermione Granger… for use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points!”

Hermione let out a happy gasp and Angelina high fived her from across the table as the Gryffindors cheered excitedly.

“Third- to Mr. Harry Potter...” the room had gone completely silent at this point. “...for pure nerve and outstanding courage I award Gryffindor house sixty points!”

Emile grabbed Fred’s shoulder and shook it vigorously.

“We’re tied with Slytherin!” she yelled over the loud cheers coming from the Gryffindor table.

All eyes turned to Dumbledore as he raised his hand for silence.

“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.”

Emile ran over and hugged Neville from behind along with a majority of the house. His face was white as a ghost, he was no surprise shocked that he had managed to grab his house the house cup.

With a clap of Dumbledore’s hands, the Green and Silver banners quickly turned into red and gold, and the giant serpent statue turned into a large lion.

Emile didn’t remember much else of the feast. She didn’t remember packing her trunk and deconstructing the loft beds. She didn’t remember the train ride back to Kings Cross, mostly because she had spent most of it sleeping with her head on Lee’s shoulder. She didn’t remember anything, until she was back in her old bedroom at the Diggory’s, with a handful of addresses in her hand and her goodbyes still hanging on her lips.

Chapter Text

Emile ran up to the Diggory’s sitting room one afternoon in late July. She had heard a slam on the window, a slam accompanied by a loud screech. That was usually a sign that the Weasley family owl, Errol, had arrived with a letter from the twins.

“I’ve got it!” she yelled as she ran past Cedric, who was watching her curiously from outside. She didn’t usually abandon an intense game of croquet.

Emile helped Eroll onto her arm and brought him over to the birdcage where he could freshen up. Once he had drunk a bit of water he presented her with his leg, which she took as a signal to take the long awaited letter.

Our dearest Emile,

twas many a fortnight since we last spoke, and still i cannot forget the sound of your laughter. It’s so very annoying.

Don’t worry, we’re joking. Partially. You asked for an update on Harry, well we are planning to bust him out of his prison soon, if you want we could pick you up on the way from his place. Mum says it’s fine, she’s anxious to meet you.

Let us know if that works. If not we’ll be around to get you after we pick up Harry. You aren’t getting out of this one.

Not at all sincerely,

Fred and George Weasley

Emile smiled and tucked the letter into the pocket of her shorts. At last she had something to look forward to. After an entire summer of Quidditch games with Cedric and his boys, important teas with members of the ministry, and coping with the slowly deteriorating health of her prison bound father, the only thing Emile had to look forward to was the evening horseback rides around the countryside where they lived.

Emile now had her own personal horse, a gorgeous arabian palomino with warm brown eyes and a white star on her forehead. She was very well trained, and gentle as a bunny. Emile had named her Nepeta, after her star sign, Leo. She had received Nepeta as an early birthday gift in the summer, her actual birthday was August 31st, but she needed a summer activity to keep her occupied.

“Uncle Amos!” Emile ran outside to where she had left her extended family playing croquet.

“What is it, my dear?” Amos Diggory smiled as Cedric swung his mallet. “Concerned you’ll be stuck doing the dishes after another loss, eh? I don’t blame you, not many could beat Cedric at croquet.”

Emile tried not to roll her eyes as her Uncle boasted about his son for the millionth time. It only made Cedric’s ego inflate even more.

“Father, I doubt it.” Cedric walked over to them, smirking. “Emile probably heard from one of her boyfriends, and they want her to spend the rest of the holiday’s at their house.”

Emile gawked at her cousin, her face flushing. This arrogant toad. One of her boyfriends? He had more admirers than Hermione had books!

Unfortunately this comment drew the attention of Mrs. Diggory, a lady who would rather die than be related to anyone who slept over at a boys house whilst underage. After a heated argument that, like always, ended with Emile leaving, she ran off to her room to write a note back.

Dear Fred & George,

Unfortunately Cedric worked his magic on his parents and I’m not allowed to leave. I suspect that if your mother or father personally wrote a letter to the Diggory’s I would be allowed to visit (hint hint sos please help).

I hope you get Harry out alright.

-Emile V. Gorska

With a sigh Emile went down to where Errol was sleeping in the cage. She stroked his head before attaching the note to his foot and sending him away. As the owl disappeared behind the hills she headed out to the stables to take Nepeta out for a ride. Her evening horseback rides were apparently the only freedom she got.

A few days later, Emile was sitting on her bed listening to muggle radio when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she called out, busy watching Carrot run around in her little hamster ball her father had gotten her.

The door creaked open and a familiar dark skinned boy peered in.

“Lee!” Emile jumped off of her bed and ran over to her friend, hugging him. She almost hadn’t recognized him out of his school robes in regular muggle clothes. He laughed and hugged her back momentarily before coming into her room, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting back down on her bed.

“Oh, my dad works up at the ministry and your uncle invited us over for two nights since your big summer gala is tomorrow.” Lee looked around Emile’s room as he spoke, not that there was much to look at. Her closet was over in one corner, her bed was in another. One wall was covered in bookshelves, one of which led to a secret library where she stored most of her school books. She often went in there to write and/or listen to muggle music when everyone was asleep.

“Ugh, the gala.” Emile fell backward on her bed, staring up at her ceiling. “It’s a yearly pain.”

“Oh come on Em, lighten up,” Lee poked Emile in the stomach. “Gala’s aren’t all that bad.”

“Sure they aren’t.” Emile sat up, smiling. “Hey, if your father knows my uncle why haven’t I seen you at one of these parties before?”

Lee rolled his eyes at her. “Now that I’m of Hogwarts age it’s become a requirement. Father thinks it will get the ministry interested in me from a young age.”

Emile smiled at him. “Well I’m glad you’re here, I get very lonely in this manner. It’s just me and Carrot.” Emile picked up the little hamster ball that Carrot was in, putting her pet back into her cage. Emile had bought a new cage for her rat, a larger and more elaborate cage complete with a running wheel and several tubes to run around in.

“Didn’t you get a horse for your birthday?” Lee asked, smiling at her.

Emile let out a gasp. “You have to meet Nepeta while you’re here, I’ve been wanting to show her to a friend for so long! Let me change into riding clothes first.”

Emile grabbed her riding pants and a clean green t-shirt from her closet and ran out of her room to the bathroom to change. Once she had put on the clothing, she pulled her hair out of its usual messy bun and put it in two pigtails.

Emile ran back into her room to find Lee flipping through her sketchbook.

“You tend to draw George a lot, don’t ya Em?” he winked at her as she blushed and snatched the sketchbook from him and putting it on one of her shelves.

“It’s not like that.” Emile turned away from him and pulled on her riding boots.

“Thank goodness, good to know that the coast is clear.” Lee obviously joked as he followed Emile down the hall and outside to the stables. As they pulled large door open, Emile ran over to the farthest stall on the left, waving for Lee to come and join her.

As he approached the stall door, a large beige head poked out, nickering at Emile. She smiled and stroked Nepeta’s velvety nose before reaching into her pocket and feeding her a carrot.

“Lee, meet Nepeta. Nepeta,” the horse whinnied as Emile said her name, “meet Lee.”

Lee stood in front of the horse awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He’d never really been near a horse before, Emile knew that much.

“Well, come on, let’s saddle her up.” Emile opened the door to the stall and stepped inside, gesturing for Lee to follow her. Once inside he watched as Emile brushed Nepeta, picked her hooves, and saddled her up. All he really did was hand her the combs she needed when asked.

“This is a rather large saddle for someone so small,” Lee said, meaning to tease her.

Emile let out a laugh as she looked from the two person saddle to Lee. “Well it’s for the two of us, you brainless Tory.”

“Wh-what?”

“You honestly don’t expect me to let you ride on your own horse when you’ve never been before, do you?” Emile saw Lee swallow nervously. “Come on, if you can bring a hairy spider to school, you can ride a horse once with me.”

Emile fastened her riding helmet onto her head before helping Lee with his, then grabbed Nepeta’s reins and lead her out of the barn, Lee by her side. When they got outside she put one boot in the metal stirrup and jumped up, swinging her other leg over Nepeta’s back. Once she had both feet secure in the stirrups and a hand on the saddlehorn, she reached her hand out to Lee.

“You’ll be fine, just do what I did.” Lee looked at her doubtfully before swinging up onto the palomino’s back.

“Jeez, this is really high up,” he said, gripping the sides of the saddle unsteadily.

“Lee, hold onto the back of my seat.” Emile looked behind her at the unsteady boy. He was so close to her, after last years Hogsmeade mess up it was slightly uncomfortable. But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“I don’t really feel comfortable doing that,” he muttered, obviously thinking about that Hogsmeade trip.

“Lee either hold onto the seat or my waist,” Emile snapped at her friend, losing patience. When he made no effort to do either she decided he needed a bit of encouragement, and gave Nepeta a gentle kick in her side, loosening the reins in her hands.

Lee gave a startled shout and grabbed Emile’s waist as the horse shot forward, galloping across the lawn of the manor towards the familiar horse trail through the woods.

“Em-m-mil-l-lee-ee!” Lee shouted into her ear as they drew nearer to the woods. She laughed as she pulled on the reins, slowing Nepeta down to a trot. Lee had his arms wrapped a bit too tightly around her, but he loosened his grip slightly as they entered the lush forest that surrounded the manor.

After five minutes of riding he leaned forward till he was right by Emile’s ear.

“How much of these woods is there?” he asked, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Well, the Diggory’s own five acres of land. Even I haven’t explored all of it. We aren’t really allowed past the lake with the meadow.” Emile called back to him, turning her head slightly.

As they followed the trail, Lee began to relax more, his hands slowly loosening from Emile’s waist till he just took them off and placed them on the back of her seat. She felt a knot in her stomach she hadn’t even known was there loosen as he did that, and felt like slapping herself for that. There was no need. No need at all.

Soon the sun began to set and Emile turned Nepeta around and they headed back to the manor. Halfway there they ran into Cedric on his horse, a large black thoroughbred named Cygnus.

“Where were you two? Snogging by the lake?” He asked, winking at Emile.

“Unfortunately, your cousin likes to play hard to get,” Lee replied teasingly, tickling Emile in the rib. She let out an involuntary spasm, kicking Nepeta a bit too hard in the side. Lee almost fell off the horse as Nepeta galloped away, leaving Cedric behind them.

Emile smiled evilly as Lee screamed behind her to slow down. She didn’t slow for a good five minutes, when Nepeta was nearing the manor. As Lee struggled to catch his breath behind her, they trotted out of the woods, slowing to a halt in front of the stables where the stable boy, Darren, took over Nepeta.

As the two of them walked up to the house, Lee’s father came out of the house and waited by the door for them.

“Lee, where have you been?” he asked as they drew near.

“Sorry, dad,” Lee looked away from his father. “Emile just wanted to show me her horse and the land around the manor.”

“Oh, so this is the Emile you’ve told me so much about.” Mr. Jordan bowed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Jordan.” Emile made eye contact with Lee as she curtsied in her dirt stained pants, trying hard not to laugh. “If you two will excuse me, I will retire to my chambers for the night.”

“Retire to my-” Lee broke off mid sentence, he was laughing too hard to pay much attention.

“Good day, gentlemen.” Emile walked away from the pair of them trying hard not to laugh along with Lee. His father was staring at his son with a look of disapproval.

As Emile entered her room she found a surprise in there waiting for her. On her bed there was a fancy looking white nightgown. Emile sighed as she took the nightgown with her down the hall to the showers. Mrs. Diggory always liked to make sure she dressed formally when important guests were present, even at times when they most likely wouldn’t see her.

With a sigh, Emile turned on the hot water and prepared for an uneventful evening.

The next day, Emile didn’t get much of a chance to talk with Lee. Mrs. Diggory needed help in the kitchen preparing food for the summer gala, outside decorating the yard, and in the house preparing the sitting rooms and guest rooms. Adult witches and wizards often had too much firewhiskey and were forced to spend the night at the manor, though the pancake breakfast the next morning was worth the hangover.

As 5 o’clock drew near, Emile was sent to prepare for the gala. She put her hair in its usual messy bun (anything to make Mrs. Diggory angry), and put on her short backless sundress. It was black and had a pattern of white wildflowers on it. As she strapped on her thin strapped black sandals her door creaked open. Emile looked up to see Lee standing in front of her in skinny jeans and a button up shirt and tie.
“Hey,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Do they want me down there already?” Emile asked as she stood up, taking one last look in the mirror.

“Yes, Mrs. Diggory insisted that I come to escort you down to the hall.”

Emile laughed. “How very thoughtful of her. Always trying to set me up with the young men at her gala’s.”

Lee raised his eyebrows at Emile.

“She just wants to make sure I’ll be out of her hair as soon as I graduate.” Emile rolled her eyes as she walked over to Lee, who offered her his arm.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” Emile smiled as she took his arm and headed down the hall to the dining room. Once they had entered Mr. Diggory directed them to their seats, Emile sitting to the right of Cedric and to the left of Lee.

Throughout the meal they talked about nothing and everything, laughing whenever Mrs. Diggory looked over to check up on them. Emile told Lee all about the past three years of boys Mrs. Diggory had attempted to get Emile to converse with, each one more boring than the last.

Soon dinner was finished and the dancing began outside in the garden, the Minister of Magic being one of the first out on the dance floor. As Lee and Emile sat in the corner laughing at Cedric, who was dancing across the lawn with lady after lady, Mrs. Diggory came up and ushered them out onto the dance floor. Together, they made her regret that decision as the pair danced like no one was watching, the awkward events of last years Hogsmeade weekend long forgotten.

Chapter Text

A few weeks after the gala Emile received her Hogwarts letter. Inside was her Hogwarts train ticket along with a note telling her to be at the station by 11 o’clock September first and a list of the school supplies each fourth year was required to have. Surprisingly enough, this year everyone was required to have an entire set of famous author Gilderoy Lockheart's books.

Hardly an hour had passed before there was a familiar slam on Emile’s window. As she let Errol hop in and drink from the bowl of water she kept perched on her windowsill, he dropped a scroll into her hand.

Dear Emile,

We just got our school letters, have you seen this list? I bet the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a witch.

Anyways, we’re going to Diagon Alley next wednesday to pick up our school supplies. Mom is writing a letter right now to ask if you can go with us and then spend the rest of vacation here.

-George Weasley and also Fred but George is the one who wrote this Fred please just let me send it already

Emile smiled and wrote out a quick response that she mailed back with Errol once he had rested a bit, feeling both nervous and excited.

She went over to her closet to try on her robes to see if they still fit. They did not. Had she really grown that much? As Emile changed back into her usual shorts and t-shirt there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” Emile called out, expecting either Mr. or Mrs. Diggory to come in and free her. She didn’t expect Cedric to come in, smiling.

“Hey, Em,” he said as he sat down on her bed.

“Cedric.” Emile gave him a nod.

“You got your letter I see.” He picked up her Hogwarts letter, scanning it over. “Who do you suppose the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is?”

“How would I know?” Emile snapped as she took her letter away from him.

Cedric let out a sigh. “Look I’m trying to be nice, but if you’re going to to be too stubborn to listen I’ll just leave.”

“I’m going to be too stubborn?” Emile gawked at her cousin. “How dare you! You’ve been ignoring me all school year then you come home and act like everything can just go back to normal?”

“I wasn’t ig-”

“Yes, you were, Cedric. And even when you weren’t, I can’t stand you! You become a completely different person at school: someone arrogant, rude, and completely full of himself. You walk around with your posse of friends thinking you’re so cool, but guess what Mister? You’re not. Don’t come near me. Don’t speak to me. Don’t even look at me.” Emile heard a gasp from the door and looked up to find Mr. Diggory waiting, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

“Emile Victoria Gorska,” he began, his face turning red.

“No, it’s ok.”

Both Emile and Mr. Diggory turned to Cedric, surprised, as he spoke up from where he was standing.

“Dad, don’t yell at Emile, she’s right. I deserved that.” Cedric stood up and walked over to Mr. Diggory. “Did you need me for something?”

“No, nothing from you, my dear boy. I simply came to tell Emile that she has been invited to spend the remainder of her vacation at the Weasley’s, starting next Tuesday evening.” Mr Diggory looked from Emile to Cedric and back again as he spoke, obviously surprised at what he had just seen.

The following Tuesday, Emile had her trunk packed with everything for the school year. She dragged it down the hall to the front door, setting Carrot’s cage on top, and waited for Mr. Diggory to return from work.

She stared across the room in the mirror and critiqued her wardrobe of the day. She was wearing her usual shorts and a black tank top, and had wrapped her red flannel around her waist. Her hair was in its usual messy bun and her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose.

As stared at her reflection, lost in thought, Mr. Diggory came tumbling out of the fireplace, a grim expression on his face.

“How did it go?” Emile asked, prepared for the worst.

“Not well.” Uncle Diggory sighed as he sat down on her trunk next to her. “He’s been sentenced to six years.”

Emile swallowed back her tears as she thought about her father. He had caused a major accident whilst drunk driving, killing several people. And now he was in jail. For six years. He wouldn’t be back until after she graduated from Hogwarts. That was a really long time.

“You will always be welcome here Emile, but I understand if you want to get your own place or spend holidays at another family's home.” Mr Diggory put his arm around Emile and she smiled weakly.

“Now there Uncle Amos you can’t get rid of me that easily,” she said weakly, getting up. He smiled and handed her Carrot’s cage before taking her trunk.

“Do you intend to show up barefoot?” He asked her, smiling as Emile turned red. She quickly pulled on her high tops, not bothering to tie the laces since they weren’t going very far.

“Now, we’re going to travel there by floo powder,” he said as they walked over to the fireplace. “You’ve traveled this way before, so just make sure you say “the Burrow” as your destination.”

Emile nodded and held on tightly to Carrot’s cage. She took a handful of the green dust and threw it into the fire, shouting “The Burrow!” as she stepped through. After a moment of dizzying spinning she stumbled out of a fireplace into an unfamiliar room, coughing from the soot.

“Emile!” Two familiar voices sounded in front of her as she opened her eyes. She couldn’t see anything. Someone laughed at took her glasses off of her head.

“Hey, I can’t see you know.” Emile stood up and stood up shakily, wobbling around the room. Someone, sounded like Fred, laughed and her glasses were put back on her nose, clean.

Emile blinked as her eyes came into focus on the people in front of her.

“Fred, George!” She said as she hugged the two of them. “I missed you guys!”

A bout of coughing and a loud thump behind Emile announced the arrival of Mr. Diggory.

“Amos!” Came a shout as someone came running into the room. A tall, red haired man in work robes similar to Mr. Diggory’s.

“Good to see you Arthur,” Mr. Diggory shook hands with him. “Just came to drop off Emile’s trunk and to make sure she got here alright. I’ll be heading back now.”

“Oh, come now Amos, won’t you stay for a spot of tea?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, my wife is expecting me for dinner.” Uncle Diggory gave Emile a hug before disapparating.

“So, you must be Emile,” the man turned to her, smiling. “Arthur Weasley.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley,” Emile said as she shook his hand, smiling.

He let out a laugh. “I do say my dear you are much nicer than these two made you out to be. Perhaps Percy was telling the truth after all.”

Emile gave the twins an inquiring look as they laughed.

“Come on then, Em,” Fred winked at her.

“We’ve got to show you around.” George took her by the arm and lead her out of the room.

“I’ll put your trunk and pet in Ginny’s room!” Mr. Weasley called after them as the twins dragged Emile out of the sitting room and up a flight of stairs. They dragged her into one of the rooms, an average sized bedroom with a bunk bed, closet, and colossal mess occupying the entirety of the floor.

“How can you live in this mess?” Emile asked, her jaw dropping. The twins simply laughed and waded through the clothes, books and various other items to the bed, where the gestured for Emile to join them.

When Emile refused to cross the room, George waltzed over, picked her up, and carried her bridal style to the bed. Fred wolf whistled as she was dumped unceremoniously onto the mattress and she punched him in the arm. This was going to be a fun few weeks.

The following morning, Mrs. Weasley woke Emile and Ginny bright and early. Emile had a fun time pretending to be well rested when in reality she had gotten three hours of sleep. Fred and George had snuck her outside after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed, and the three of them had stayed up incredibly late talking about everything and nothing.

Emile and Ginny quickly got dressed, Emile in her skinny jeans and a white blouse. She quickly pulled on mismatched socks before following Ginny down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Emile.” Fred smiled at her. “Sleep well?”

Emile rolled her eyes, smiling at the redhead.

After a quick breakfast of half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and lined up by the fireplace.  Mrs. Weasley took a flower pot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” she sighed. “We’ll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!”

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him.

“W-what am I supposed to do?” he stammered.

“He’s never traveled by Floo powder,” said Ron suddenly. “Sorry, Harry, I forgot.”

“Never?” said Mr. Weasley. “But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?”

“I went on the Underground —”

“Really?” said Mr. Weasley eagerly. “Were there escapators? How exactly —”

“Not now, Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Floo powder is a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you’ve never used it before —”

“He’ll be all right, Mum,” said Fred. “Harry, watch us first.”

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, “Diagon Alley!” and vanished.

George grinned at Emile before following his brother.

“It’s a piece of cake,” Emile whispered to Harry as she took a pinch of the powder herself and threw it into the fire, shouting “Diagon Alley!” loud and clear.

As she spun out of the fireplace, Emile couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight of the bustling alley way.

Once everyone but Harry had shown up in the meeting spot, Emile went off by herself to get new school robes while everyone else went to get money out of their gringotts vaults. Emile had already gotten the money she needed from Mr. Diggory.

As she entered the second hand robe shop she ran straight into Angelina Johnson.

“Emile!” Her room mate cried, enveloping Emile in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you, are you coming to Lockheart’s book signing?”

“What?” Emile stared at Angeline for a moment.

“Oh, I guess not. But it was good to see you! You need to get a compartment with us on the way to Hogwarts this year, we have so much to catch up on!”

Emile waved goodbye as her friend was dragged off by her mother towards Flourish and Blotts. It took Emile a while to find the perfect robes, not too big yet not a perfect fit. She had to give herself a bit of space to grow into throughout the year.

On her way out of the shop, she ran into Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who informed her about the whereabouts of the twins.

As Emile entered Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke shop, she immediately spotted Fred, George and Lee stocking up on all sorts of supplies. That is, if Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks were considered a very much needed school supplies.

Once they had made their purchases in the joke shop, they went out to walk around some more, window shopping here and there. After a rather long stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies, the three of them walked by Ollivanders. Emile paused to look inside, admiring the neatly stacked rows of wands on the wall.

“Emily, I don’t believe we ever actually asked what kind of wand you have,” Lee realized as they walked away from the shop.

“Oh, well, I mean do you seriously want to know?” Emile looked over at Lee curiously.

“Why not?” Lee shrugged and the twins nodded.

“Its 13 inch larch wood with phoenix feather.”

The boys nodded, but were quickly distracted as they passed Broomstix, the broomstick shop. In the window on display sat the new Nimbus 2001. How did Emile know this you may ask? Well it didn’t take a genius to figure it out when the name of the broom was carved into the handle.

“Hey Emile, why don’t you get a broomstick?” Lee turned to her as the twins ran into the shop.

“If I find one I like I probably would.” Emile shrugged. She did want a broomstick, she was just incredibly picky about these kinds of things.

“Oi, you two!” Lee called out to the twins as he dragged Emile into the shop. “Emile would be interested in buying a broomstick but she needs an expert's advice.”

“If you want an expert ,you’ll get an expert.” Fred winked at Emile. “Now what is it exactly you look for in a broom? Speed? Style? Something to match your outfit?”

“If we’re talking about broomsticks I like Harry’s a lot,” Emile said, walking over to where the Nimbus 2000 sat.

“Ah yes, excellent choice. But surely you wouldn’t prefer the new and improved Nimbus 2001?” George walked over to the display case and began listing off various reasons why it was better.

“No, I like the handle on this one better.” Emile cut George off, smiling.

“Are you sure you can pay for this Em?” Fred leaned over hesitantly as Emile went to purchase her broomstick.

“Well, Lee look at it this way, I’ve been saving up my money for the entirety of my life and now have a bit over eight hundred galleons.” Emile laughed as the three boys stared at her, open mouthed.

“EIght hundred galleons and all you got us last christmas was hats and scarves?” Fred turned away from her, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I just don’t think we can be friends anymore after such an act of betrayal.”

George laughed and Lee punched Fred in the arm as Emile walked up to the counter and made her purchase. The large parcel in her hand, the four of them ran down diagon alley laughing to Flourish and Blotts where they had agreed to meet Mrs. Weasley before the book signing.

“There you three are, come on, come now it’s already started.” Mrs. Weasley ushered them into the line of mainly witches waiting for a chance to meet the famous Gilderoy Lockheart.

Poor Harry was walking towards them from the front of the room where the famous author stood. Emile had to admit he was slightly good looking, but he was so old. She had a rule for herself, not to have celebrity crushes unless they were around the same age as her.

Harry stopped by Ginny, who was holding a cauldron filled with school supplies.

“You have these,” he said dropping the books into her cauldron. “I’ll buy my own.”

“He’s the new DA teacher,” Lee whispered into their ears and the twins groaned, earning them both a sharp pinch from their mother who was attempting to get closer to the author.

“There you three are, what have you-oh hello there Mr. Jordan!” Mr. Weasley walked over to the four of them, smiling.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley.” Lee looked down at his wrist watch and grimaced. “Blimey, I was supposed to meet my father in the Leaky Cauldron five minutes ago.” He gave the boys each a wave and Emile gave him a hug. “See you three on the train!” He called as he ran out of the shop.

“So there definitely isn’t anything going on between you and Lee?” Fred nudged Emile in the side, winking. She rolled her eyes and shoved him back, but a bit of shouting by the entrance to the store distracted them.

“Ron!” said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. Emile had no choice but to follow.  “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley.”

A familiar man, Lucius Malfoy, Emile thought his name was, walked up to where Ron was staring down a short blonde kid. She recognized the two of them from the Minister’s Annual Christmas dinner. But if they recognized her, they gave no sign of it.

“Lucius,” said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr. Malfoy. “All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He glanced over at Ginny’s cauldron as he spoke, the new Lockheart books failing to cover the secondhand ones underneath.

“Obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny. “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.”

Emile couldn’t bear to watch this fight, she glance out the window and noticed a familiar looking man walking by.
“Emile, where are you-” Emile didn’t hear Fred’s urgent whisper as she ran out of the store.

“Hagrid! HAGRID!”

The friendly giant turned around as Emile forced her way between a couple walking down the street.

“Emile!” He smiled down at her. “How have ye been?”

“No time to catch up,” she gasped. “Mr Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are about to fight in Flourish and Blotts.”

Without another word Hagrid made his way back to the store, Emile following in his wake.

“Break it up, there, gents, break it up —” Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant, he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools.

“Here, girl — take your book — it’s the best your father can give you —” Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip, Lucius beckoned to his son and swept from the shop.

“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter — bad blood, that’s what it is — come on now — let’s get outta here.”

“A fine example to set for your children… brawling in public… what Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought —”

“He was pleased,” said Fred. “Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity —”

Fred was angrily cut off by his mother and he made a face at her, receiving a consoling pat on the shoulder from George. Emile gave them a smile as they headed back to the Leaky cauldron where they returned to the burrow by floo powder.

Chapter Text

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry’s favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

Emile lay in bed, smiling. She hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday today and she didn’t intend to. She hated her birthday. She hadn’t celebrated it since she was four.

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny’s trunk to the car.

Emile couldn’t see how nine people, seven large trunks, two owls, and two rats were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia.

“Not a word to Molly,” he whispered to Harry and Emile as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily. They grinned at each other then winked up at Mr. Weasley.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, “Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don’t they?” She had Emile and Ginny in the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. “I mean, you’d never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?”

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Emile turned to look at the house as they drove off, wondering if this would be her last time seeing it, but apparently not.  George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she’d left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

The nine of them ran into Kings Cross with only fifteen minutes to spare. Five minutes before the train left, they were all standing around the column for platform 9 ¾. Percy crossed first, and then Mr. Weasley and then the twins and Emile.

As the crossed onto the platform Mr. Weasley pushed them towards the train yelling for them to hurry up and get on. Emile passed Fred and George her trunk just as the train began to move.

“Hurry!” She yelled to Ginny, who was struggling to keep up. Emile grabbed the first year and tossed her on to her brothers before jumping on herself, landing with a thud on top of George.

“You made it!” George laughed as she got off of him, standing up.

Saying goodbye to Ginny, the three of them headed down the train searching the compartments until they found Lee and Angelina sitting in one together.

“You made it!” Lee jumped to his feet as they entered the compartment, hauling their trunks into the storage. Emile took Carrot’s cage from Fred and plopped down next to Angelina.
“We were beginning to think you had missed the train.” Angelina gave Emile a hug as Fred and George sat opposite of them next to Lee.

“Do I get a hug too?” Fred asked, batting his eyelashes at the girls. Angelina took off her shoe and threw it at him.

The train ride up to the castle was much more enjoyable than last years. Emile showed off the hamster ball for Carrot and the twins set off one of the wet start fireworks. Angelina showed Emile pictures of her vacation to France. Lee and Emile told them about the summer gala and poor Mrs. Diggory. The twins yelled at Emile for not telling them she had a horse.

They all bought some pumpkin juice and sweets from the trolley as it drove by and sat conversing and eating the food till the sky began to grow dark.

“Hey Emile, are you planning on changing in the compartment again?” Fred winked at her as George laughed at Angelina’s and Lee’s horrified expressions.

“No, Angelina and I are going to go change right now so you best hope we don’t walk in on you.” Emile grabbed Angelina by the arm and led her out of the room.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Angelina asked as they headed for the girls lavatory.

“I don’t think that would help.” Emile smiled at her friend, glad to be back at school.

After the welcome feast the Gryffindor fourth years headed up to the common room, Emile, Alicia, and Angelina had full intentions of remaking last years loft beds to sleep in.

“Did you hear about Harry Potter?” One of the first years walking by was saying to anyone in reach. “Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! They flew a car to the school!”

Fred and George immediately went over to the first year to interrogate him.

Emile rolled her eyes at Alicia. “Boys,” she said, giving a dramatic sigh.

Half an hour later, they had successfully reconstructed the loft beds and had began to unpack their trunks. Emile had the same star covered cloth as last year and again she draped it over the sides of the loft to make a personal space underneath.

Emile had brought her muggle radio with her this year, Mr. Diggory had enchanted it so that it worked on Hogwarts ground. She placed it on top of her cabinet, the top of it was level with the mattress of the loft so she planned to use it as a nightstand of sorts.

As Emile was unpacking Carrots supplies a thunderous applause from the common room summoned the girls out.

Emile walked into the common room and grabbed Percy by the arm.

“Whats going on?” She called over the chatter.

“Harry and Ron have returned after crashing the family car into the whomping willow.” Percy frowned at where the twins were talking to the two heros. “I need to go talk to them, this is unacceptable behaviour.”

The two boys seemed to notice Percy storming towards them, seeing that they excused themselves and ran off to their dormitory.

“I’m so proud of Ron,” a voice behind Emile sounded. She turned to find Fred and George standing behind her holding bottles of butterbeer.

“He might not turn out like Percy after all.” George handed Emile a butterbeer as he said these words. She took it gratefully and chugged down half the bottle, happy not to have Mrs. Diggory around to remind her to take dainty sips.

“The things your aunt would say if she saw you now,” Lee echoed her thoughts as he walked up to the group.

“I ought to go finish organizing our room.” Emile gave them all a hug as she headed up the spiral staircase with her bottle in hand. She was so glad to be back.

The first day of school could have started out better. Emile woke up late and had to rush down to breakfast without even brushing her teeth. When she entered the great hall everyone was staring at the Gryffindor table, muttering quietly.

“What happened here?” She asked Angelina as she sat down in her usual spot, grabbing a piece of toast.

“Mrs. Weasley sent Ron a howler. Poor midget looks like a ghost now.”

Emile turned to where Ron was sitting with Harry and Hermione. He was dreadfully pale. Harry was silently staring at his bowl of porridge as Professor McGonagall handed out course schedules.

Emile grabbed her bookbag and walked with Lee to Charms, the only class they had today. She chewed her toast and nodded along to whatever Lee was saying.

“Are you even listening to me?” He asked as they approached the door to the classroom.

“Mof Rellfy,” Emile mumbled around her toast.

Lee smiled and rolled his eyes, holding the door to the charms room open for her.  

Professor Flitwick spent most of the class talking about what they would be learning throughout the year. They finished off the class reviewing what they had learned last year.

Emile left the classroom with the intention of going to see if she could check out the advanced potion book she had last year again. It turned out Professor Snape was teaching for the rest of the day so she would have to go check tomorrow.

On her way back up to the common room, Emile literally ran into George Weasley.

“Found her!” He called back to his twin, who was running in the opposite direction from him.

Fred skipped over to the two of them and grabbed their arms, dragging them towards the moving staircases.

“Where are we going?” Emile yanked her arm away from Fred.

“We wanted to teach you how to play quidditch.”

Emile stared at the twins.

“We aren’t joking,” George smiled. “If you join the team you won’t get so lonely this year.”

Emile smiled at the twins as they approached the fat lady, saying “wattlebird” in unison to open the door. She ran upstairs quickly to leave her bookbag and grab her broom, also pulling her hair back into a ponytail. The messy bun was a bit uncomfortable when she flew, it gave her terrible headaches.

The three of them ran down the hallway to the quidditch pitch, happy to find it abandoned. Not many people would be out practicing on the first day of term.

Since Emile already understood the rules of quidditch, they started out with simple quaffle passing. Fred and George were not the best chasers, nor were they super enthusiastic about the position, so they spent not even ten minutes practicing with the quaffle before they brought out the bludger. The three of them were equipped with bats and they flew around, hitting the bludger back and forth while laughing.

“Oi! You three!”

Fred tackled down the bludger and flew down to where Oliver Wood was standing by the box containing the equipment. He was holding his broom and smiling at the twins.

“Glad to see you two and Alicia practicing so early into the year. I’ve got a whole bunch of new strategies I’ve been testing out over the summer that I want to show you guys.”

“Sounds great, Wood.” George thumped him on the soldier. “Except we aren’t practicing with Alicia, that over there is Emile.”

“Really?” Oliver stared at Emile as she flew down to join them. “You fly pretty well.”

“Um, thank you?” Emile looked over at Fred, who was smirking at her.

“Would you three like to help me practice the keeper position?” Oliver looked away from Emile and over at the twins.

“Alright Wood, but you know we aren’t that good with a quaffle.” Fred winked at the sixth year and flew off, followed by his twin. Emile scooped up the quaffle from the box before flying up to join them.

Half an hour later, Fred fell off his broom dramatically onto the ground, falling three feet down and landing with a thud.

“Oliver, we can’t beat you,” he called up to the hovering captain.

“Come on Fred, we can have Emile play keeper now.” George smiled as Emile yelled a protest.

The next half hour was painful to watch. The twins were truly terrible chasers, but Oliver Wood was amazing. Emile attempted to block quaffle after quaffle, and actually managed to block most of them. She felt a rush of adrenaline she never felt while playing muggle sports. Every time she managed to block something the twins cheered loudly. Even Oliver seemed somewhat impressed.

“That was really fun,” she gasped as the four of them headed up to the castle, foreheads glistening.

“Em, you look like a mess.” George laughed and sniffed the air. “Although you can’t smell worse than Fred.”

Fred looked like he was about to argue before he lifted his arm and sniffed himself, his nose wrinkling.

“Alright you two, go shower. Emile will help me carry the supplies to the closet.” Oliver smiled at her as she picked up one end of the chest containing the quaffles.

As they dropped the chest by Madame Hooch's office, Emile panting slightly, Oliver Wood was oddly quiet.

“You fly pretty well,” he said once they had begun heading back to the common room. “And not just as a keeper, you make a fair chaser and beater too.”

“Oh, um.” Emile was unsure of what to say. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Would you like to join the Quidditch team as a backup player?” Oliver paused in front of the common room and looked at Emile expectantly.

“I’d love to,” Emile wrapped her arms around Oliver. He smiled and hugged her back for a moment.

“Ah, young love,” the fat lady said behind them.

Emile turned red as she let go of Oliver and muttered “wattlebird” to the portrait. It swung open, giving her a knowing look. She headed up to her dormitory to shower without another look at Oliver Wood.

Chapter Text

As the school year continued, Emile joined the team for weekly quidditch practice. Angelina, Alicia and Katie were all overjoyed to see that she had joined the team, even if she was there just to replace them if they couldn’t play. The Slytherin team had received a generous donation of the new Nimbus 2001’s from a certain Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and Emile often joined the twins on spying missions to see how the team is doing.

“The Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles,” Fred declared dramatically during one of the practices as George made whooshing noises behind him.

Oliver seemed to never lose spirit during practice, but Emile had seen him in the library with a frown molded onto his face as he read over quidditch book after quidditch book. He’d even began to read over broom making books in desperate attempts to seek out weaknesses in the 2001’s.

One day when Emile was walking into the library to last minute study before a quiz, she literally ran into a furious Oliver Wood.

“I’m sorry!” She said, bending down to pick up one of the book’s he’d dropped.

“It’s not your fault, I just can’t find a place to study in quiet,” he said, emphasizing the last word as he glared at a group of first years who were giggling around one of the tables.

Emile chewed on her lip, debating whether or not she should show him her secret spot. She had forced Lee and the twins to promise not to tell anyone without asking her for permission first, but it was her spot originally, so technically she could show whomever she wanted to.

“Hey, I think I can help with that.” Emile grabbed Oliver’s arm as he began to walk away, gesturing for him to follow her.

As they walked over to the corner of the library, Emile looked around to make sure no one was watching. Once a fifth year looking over a herbology book had left Emile slipped behind the bookshelves, pulling Oliver along behind her.

“So this is your secret hiding place,” Oliver whisper and looked around the space in wonder as Emile sat down on her bean bag chair.

She laughed out loud. “You can speak in normal volume in here, we’ve charmed it.”

“Incredible.” Oliver stared at her as he sat down and took out his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages as Emile took out the battered old Potions book. Professor Snape had given her permission to use it again this year, much to the twins surprise.

“You can come anytime, but please don’t tell anyone about it without asking me first,” Emile said after a few minutes of silence. “I kind of like having a little hiding place, I don’t want it to get too crowded.”

Oliver looked up from his book and smiled. “I understand, and I won’t tell anyone.”

Thirty minutes later Emile left for potions with a small smile on her face. Maybe she could call Oliver her friend now.

As she entered the classroom and sat down next to Lee he nudged her in the arm.

“What’s with the happy smile, horse lord?” He had began calling her by this name since their ride through the Diggory manor.

“I think I just made a new friend.”

“Really, who?” Lee looked at her curiously.

“Well, Oliver Wood I guess. I showed him the space in the library.” Lee grew oddly quiet after that, but Professor Snape soon entered the room and Emile forgot about Lee’s behaviour.

As the days grew colder and October drew to a close, the date for the upcoming Hogsmeade trip were posted.

“A trip on Halloween, I can’t wait!” Emile said giddily to Angelina and Lee.

The three of them were sitting around the fireplace as they completed an essay for Transfiguration. Emile still had to read a chapter of Wandering with Werewolves for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that could wait for a bit of bedtime reading. As boring and self indulging Professor Lockheart’s classes were, he did accomplish some pretty heroic deeds.

“Do you have any plans?” Lee asked as he looked up from his essay.

“No, not yet. Though I probably should pick up some new quills.” Emile looked up at Lee momentarily. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering if-”

“Emile!” Oliver sat down on the sofa next to her before Lee could finish. “If you aren’t going on any dates Hogsmeade weekend, you should seriously consider getting some quidditch robes of your own.”

“Oh Oliver, like anyone would go on a date with me. But yes, I probably should.” Emile tapped the end of her quill against her face as she thought. “I don’t know where the shop is but I guess I-”

“You are getting ink all over your face.” Oliver laughed as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the side of her beet red cheek with it.

“I can show you where it is, will you meet me by Honeydukes at noon?”

“Sure, I’ve got no other plans.” Emile smiled, her face fading back to its usual color.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Emile smiled and waved as he walked off, turning back to her paper. She was unaware that both Angelina and Lee were watching her, their jaws dropped.

“Hey!” Angelina punched Emile in the arm after a minute.

“What? What did I do?” Emile rubbed her poor arm as Lee shook his head and began writing again.

“What did you do? You just got a date with Oliver Wood that’s what!” Angelina stared at Emile as if she was an alien creature.

“Oh, you’re over analyzing.” Emile rolled her eyes before turning back to her essay. “It isn’t a date, we’re just friends. I hardly know the guy.”

“How can it not be a date, it’s a date, Lee, tell her it’s a date!”

Lee gathered up his roll of parchment and walked off without a word.

Angelina sat back in defeat and sighed. “Drama, it always starts in the fourth year.”

Emile laughed and gathered up her own items, having finished her essay. She knew it wasn’t a date, she would never date Oliver and he would never date her. She also knew that the rest of the week would be spent convincing her roommates of this fact.

That Saturday, Emile walked down to Hogsmeade in her usual jeans and a thick grey sweater. Her high tops were growing a bit faded and she made a mental note to acquire some more somehow. Maybe she could ask the Diggory’s for a new pair as a christmas present.

She went to Honeydukes and Zonko’s with the twins and Lee, who was being awkwardly quiet around her, before heading off with Oliver at noon. They talked merrily about the town as they headed towards Spintwitches, the Hogsmeade sporting goods shop.

The bell over the door of the shop rang merrily as they walked into the somewhat crowded shop. Oliver seemed to be a popular presence at the store, he soon grabbed a salesclerk to help Emile get fitted with quidditch robes.

“You look very professional,” Oliver said as Emile stood in the red robes in front of him.

She laughed at twirled, causing the robes to lift up slightly.

“Much less professional,” Oliver said, his ears slightly red.

Once they had completed the purchase and Emile had stored the robes in her mokeskin pouch, they headed back up the busy street.

“What are you planning to do now?” Oliver glanced at his wristwatch. “There’s still four hours till the feast.”

“I’m not sure,” Emile admitted. Part of her wanted to find Fred and George, but not if Lee was going to be a sourpuss. “I’ll probably go to the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer, my hands are freezing.”

“Mind if I join you?” Oliver’s request didn’t surprise Emile.

“I don’t see why not.” Emile smiled at the scott.

When they reached the Three Broomsticks, he made a big show out of holding the door open for her, and she thanked him quite dramatically. They sat down at the counter smiling and ordered two butterbeers. Madame Rosmerta smiled and shook her head as she placed the two warm mugs in front of them.

Oliver had just told her a story about his pet cat when two familiar redheads sat down on either side of them.

“Hello,” Fred grinned at Emile from the other side of Oliver.

“How’s the date going?” George asked shamelessly, causing Oliver to choke on his butterbeer.

As Oliver finished coughing he turned to George, his eyes watering slightly. “You know I wouldn’t date Emile, she’s so much younger than me.”

Emile laughed along with Fred. “I would never date him, he’s not my type.”

“Oh really?’ Fred wiggled his eyebrows at Emile as she finished off her butterbeer. “What is your type, Emile?”

“I will choose not to answer that.” Emile smiled, paying for the butterbeer before getting up. “Now if you will excuse me i’m going to go to Rosa Lee’s Tea Bags to get some tea that I cannot find in the kitchen.”

Fred complained as she got up, but Emile left the three of them anyways. It wasn’t a complete lie, she was craving a cup of licorice root tea, but that wasn’t her reason for leaving. She didn’t want to admit to Fred that she didn’t have a type. She had never been on a date, never had one of those cute childhood relationships. She just didn’t know what her type was.

Instead of heading up to the teashop, Emile found herself walking past Madame Puddlefoot’s, a popular teashop for couples to go and snog in. Katie Bell herself was on a date right now, As Emile peered in she could hardly make out the figure of Katie, her friend was practically glued to her new boyfriend.

Emile wandered around on her own for an hour before deciding to return to the castle. She trudged uphill, wishing she had Nepeta with her. Her horse was back at the Diggory manor, she had befriended the stable boy Darren during the summer and had given him permission to ride Nepeta twice a week.

As Emile walked into the common room, she took her hands out of her pockets and sat by the fire, attempting to warm them up. After five minutes, she became aware of of another presence behind her. A very drunk Lee Jordan was lying, passed out, on the sofa.

“Oh, Lee,” Emile murmured, as she stroked his forehead with one hand. He let out a groan and made no attempt to get up.

“Emileeeeeeee….” He slurred without opening his eyes.

“Lie still Lee, I’ll get you to bed.” Emile whipped out her wand and pointed it at Lee. “Levioso.”

Lee’s body floated up into the air. Emile directed him into the air and up the dormitory for the fourth year boys. She opened the door to the dormitory and put Lee down into the bed not containing a homemade Weasley sweater.

“You’re going to be fine, Lee.” Emile drew the covers up around him as he opened a drooping eyelid.

“I love you, Emile.” He mumbled incoherently as she turned to leave.

“Yes, I love you too.” From her experience in dealing with drunks, it was best to simply agree with whatever they said.

As she headed down the stairs to her dormitory she passed the twins and Oliver, all of whom she ignored. Seeing Lee in a drunken stupor had reminded her of her father, alone and forced into sobriety by whatever prison he was in. Anything could happen to him in there. She knew she was overthinking and overreacting, but she was terrified.

“Emile!” George ran after her as she crossed to the girls dormitories and ran up the stairs two at a time. She crossed the bedroom and drew the curtains to her section shut before lying down under her loft, drawing her makeshift curtains shut around her.

Emile hugged one of her fluffy pillows and cried herself to sleep, feeling very overwhelmed by the numerous emotions coursing through her.

When Emile awoke several hours later and lay in silence in the dark room. She could hear her room mates breathing loudly and when she checked the clock over the door it was past one am. Emile stretched and got up, slipping out of the dormitories and walking lightly down to the common room. Her eyes still felt hot and puffy, but she was very hungry.

She walked quietly across the common room in socked feet. Emile closed the portrait door slowly to make sure it made no noise. She ran down the hidden passageways to the kitchens, quickly tickling the pear and sliding in.

The kitchen was warm and friendly. The house elves were all either asleep or off cleaning the palace. Only one remained in the kitchen, hurriedly drying a small pile of utensils.

“Kringle.”

“Mistress Emile!” Her friend was besides herself, tears of joy in her eyes. “Kringle has missed Emile much!”

“I’ve missed you too, Kringle.” Emile smiled down at her friend.

“Have you come for food? Master Weasley’s said they did not see you at the feast. They had leftovers saved for you.”

Emile began to cry again as Kringle went to get the food. She didn’t deserve such nice friends. And when Kringle brought out a platter of her favorite foods she felt even worst.

“Mistress Emile there’s no need to cry.” Kringle handed Emile a handkerchief.

Emile blew her nose loudly. “Kringle, it’s just one of those sad days. I really needed this meal, thank you very much.”

Kringle bowed and sat down next to Emile, talking nonstop as she ate her fill.

As Emile polished off the pudding, she turned to the house elf. “Could a large pitcher of water and an empty cup be delivered to Lee Jordan’s nightstand?”

“Of course, Mistress Emile. You are so kind to think of your friends, even when you are feeling sad.” And with that Kringle bowed and disapparated, leaving Emile to head back up to the common room on her own.

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next few days, Emile was filled in on all of the rumors about what had happened halloween night. Everyone was buzzing about Harry Potter and how he had supposedly opened the chamber of secrets. He didn’t even know what the chamber was, Emile seriously doubted a second year who had been raised by muggles could possibly be the heir of Slytherin.

None of her friends had asked her about halloween night, and Emile was glad not to be interrogated. Lee was talking to her again, which was nice. They often hung out at the library before quidditch practice. A big game was coming up and Oliver was training the team harder than ever.

The Saturday of the game, Emile woke up at 4am. After attempting to fall asleep she finally decided the best way to work off her nervousness was to go for a walk. After hastily putting on her Quidditch robes and a beanie she quietly crept from the dorm room and out of the castle.

Emile walked down to the lake and into the edge of the forbidden forest. It was very peaceful here, under the pine’s that rustled in a crisp morning breeze and the faint sky that still had a few late stars out.

Emile spent the next hour wandering the woods. She watched as a couple of birds woke up and began to sing, as a doe and her fawn crept out of a hollow log. With a sigh she turned away from the happy family. Why couldn’t she be a cute little forest animal?

After a few minutes of watching a spider wrestle with the dewdrops that had settled on its web, she decided it was high time for her to return to the castle.  As she walked along the shore of the black lake she noticed a familiar scott sitting on a log nearby.

“Oliver?” Emile hastily approached her friend.

“Emile?” He turned towards her, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

Emile shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

“Same, I guess.” Oliver shrugged and looked up at Emile.

“Can I sit here?” After a moment of silence, Emile gestured to the log he was sitting on.

Oliver nodded and scooted over a bit. Emile had to jump a little to get on, she was a bit on the short side for her age.

After a few minutes of silence Oliver spoke, slightly startling Emile. “Do you think I’m a bad quidditch captain?”

Emile stared at him incredulously. “Why would you even think that?”

“Well, we haven’t won the quidditch cup since I became captain, in fact we haven’t really won anything in awhile.”

“Oliver.” Emile rested her head on his shoulder. “Why would you even blame yourself for that. You’re an amazing captain, look at all the new strategies you came up with! I bet you’ll become a professional quidditch player after you graduate, you deserve nothing less. And it’s not like Gryffindor house hasn’t won anything, we won the house cup last year!”

Oliver was silent for a long while after that. Emile kept her head on his shoulder as they watched the sun rise over the lake, painting the clouds with shades of pink and orange. Once the sky began to turn blue Emile stood up and jumped up and down.
“Damnit my foot’s asleep,” she said as she stomped it on the ground. “I guess I’ll head up to the castle for some breakfast.”

“I’ll go with you.” Oliver stood up and the two of them walked up to the castle together.

It was still pretty early when they got to the great hall, but a few of the other students were already up. Emile sat down next to Wood and helped herself to a few pieces of toast and some cottage cheese as Oliver anxiously reviewed his pep talk with her. As she helped him alter his words of encouragement, more students began filing in, the twins and Lee included. The three of them sat down across from Emile and Oliver, Lee glaring at the quidditch captain.

“What are you two doing here so early?” Fred yawned and grabbed a few sausages.

“Couldn’t sleep,” they said at the same time, nervously smiling at one another as they did.

Lee rolled his eyes and George winked at Emile as the rest of the team sat down around them and ate in nervous silence. Once the clock struck eleven, they made their way down to the quidditch pitch with the rest of the team

“Slytherin has better brooms than us,” he began. “No point denying it. But we’ve got better people on our brooms. We’ve trained harder than they have, we’ve been flying in all weathers — ”(“Too true,” muttered George Weasley. “I haven’t been properly dry since August”) “— and we’re going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team.”

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.

“It’ll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we’ve got to win today, we’ve got to.”

“So no pressure, Harry” said Fred, winking at the first year. Emile punched him in the shoulder and he laughed while punching her back.  

Emile sat by Madame Hooch on the side of the field as she prepared the teams for the game. When she instructed Oliver and the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, to shake hands the two boys appeared to be trying their hardest to break each other’s hands.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch. “Three… two… one…”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky.

As soon as the game started it became clear something was wrong. One of the bludgers had gone rogue and kept targeting Harry. With the team’s two beaters busy protecting the seeker from getting beheaded, the other bludger had freedom to do as it pleased with the team. When it stopped Angelina from scoring, Oliver called the team together.

“What’s going on?” said Wood as Emile ran over to the group “We’re being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?”

“We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver,” said George angrily. “Someone’s fixed it — it won’t leave Harry alone. It hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it.”

“But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…” said Wood, anxiously.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them.

“Listen,” said Harry, “with you two flying around me all the time the only way I’m going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one.”

“Don’t be thick,” said Fred. “It’ll take your head off.”

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

“Oliver, this is insane,” said Alicia Spinner angrily. “You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let’s ask for an inquiry…”

“If we stop now, we’ll have to forfeit the match!” said Harry. “And we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!”

“This is all your fault,” George said angrily to Wood. “‘Get the Snitch or die trying,’ what a stupid thing to tell him —”

Madam Hooch had joined them. “Ready to resume play?” she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Harry’s face. “All right,” he said. “Fred, George, you heard Harry — leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own.”

Rain had begun to fall heavily as Madam Hooch blew her whistle again and the teams kicked off from the ground.

Emile leaned against the wall in an attempt to shelter from the drizzle as she watched Harry avoid the rogue bludger on his own. He was doing pretty well. That was until a bludger smashed into his right side.

“Harry!” Emile almost ran onto the field, but Madam Hooch held her back.

“Wait dear, he might be alright.”

Harry was not alright. One of his arms was dangling, useless, at his side. But he carried on. He dove towards Draco Malfoy, his good hand stretched out. Without any of his body parts controlling the broom Harry lost control and smashed into the ground. Thankfully Madam Hooch didn’t stop Emile from running over to her teammate this time.

As she approached Harry, she heard him faintly mutter, “Ah, we’ve won,” before falling back onto the grass, the golden snitch in his hand.

“Emile! help us!” A shout came from behind her.

Emile ran past Oliver, who was heading to Harry’s side, to where Fred and George were dragging down the rogue bludgers from midair. Together the three of them shoved it into the chest along with the quaffle and sane bludger.

When the three of them turned around they were greeted by an oddly disturbing sight. Harry Potter was standing, his arm lacking dimension and hanging limply at his side.

“Good lord, it’s like a giant rubber glove,” Emile whispered to George, who smirked.

Harry was taken to the hospital wing and Emile joined Angelina and Alicia, the three of them group hugging Oliver. Their captain was absolutely giddy with happiness.

“All that stress for nothing, ey Wood?” Emile teased as she bumped his arm playfully. He smiled and bumped her back. Their shoving competition was interrupted by Lee, who came up behind Emile and picked her up from behind as she let out a shriek.

“Congrats on the win!” He laughed as he spun her around.

“Put me down!” She yelled while laughing. Lee obliged.

“It’s Wood you should be congratulating,” Emile put her arm around the captains waist since she was too short to reach his neck. “He’s the one who led our team to victory. Besides, I didn’t do much.”

“Emile, you do a lot more than you realize.” Oliver side hugged her for a moment before pulling away, leaving her with Lee.

“So, I guess you two are pretty serious, huh?” Lee looked at Emile, his face unreadable.

“What? Oh course not we’re just friends i would never-” EMile broke off and stared at Lee. “Please don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Ok, I won’t.” Lee gave a false smile.

“Lee, you’re so stupid.” Emile enveloped him in a hug. After a moment he hugged her her back.

At that moment, Fred and George appeared, their arms loaded with food.

“Come on guys, lets go cheer up Harry!” They called out to the team.

Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived in several minutes later to see Harry.

“Unbelievable flying, Harry,” said George. “I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn’t seem too happy.”

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Harry’s bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, “This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!” And Harry was left alone, surrounded by food, but completely alone.

“Now we had food delivered to the common room, so let’s go change and party!” Fred ran down the hall whooping and hollering. The rest of the team laughed and ran after him, eager to get out of their wet robes.

Once Emile had changed into her pajamas she headed down to the common room with Katie, who quickly abandoned her to go snog her boyfriend. Emile rolled her eyes and grabbed a piece of cake and a mug of butterbeer.

“It’s been spiked with firewhiskey,” George whispered as she sat down in front of the fireplace with the rest of the team, who were all chugging down the drink.

Turns out even a lightly spiked butterbeer has some powerful effects on underage wizards. After two or three mugs everyone was smiling, in a delirious daze. By one am everyone was completely drunk.

“Let’s play a game.” George smiled at nobody in particular.

“What kind of game?” Fred asked from where he had his head on Angelina's shoulder.

“Truth or Dare?” Alicia asked from across the room.

“I don’t wanna get up,” Lee smiled deliriously from where he was lying upside down in an armchair.

“Spin the bottle, anyone?” Alicia held up an empty bottle of pumpkin juice. The boys all cheered as she placed it on the floor in the middle of their circle.

“I call dibs!” Lee sat up and reached across the circle, giving it a big spin. His face fell as it landed on George.

“Come here babe,” George called from where he was sitting by Emile. Lee hastily walked over to the redhead, who grabbed the dark skinned boy by his face and kissed him square on the lips. Fred wolf whistled as Lee returned to his seat.

“Alright, my turn.” George spun the bottle, only to have it land on Alicia. The two had their own miniature snogging session in the corner.

Half an hour later George had kissed everyone in the circle except for Emile, the bottle hadn’t landed on her once.

“You’re avoiding us, doll.” Lee looked over at the twins. “How about we switch the game?”

“Good with me.” George turned to Emile. “Em, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Emile smiled at George, who still hadn’t realized she’d swapped her butterbeer with pumpkin juice. It was very fun to watch her friends enjoy themselves, but she was scared out of her mind of being drunk.

“You’re no fun. Alright, tell us about your first kiss.”

“I can’t tell you about something that hasn’t happened.” Emile smiled at the redhead. “Angelina, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” Her roommate said a bit loudly.

“I dare you to put your hands in Fred’s pockets for the rest of the game.” Emile smiled, glad that her friends weren’t sober.

Angelina put one of her hands around Fred’s waist and slipped it into his left pocket, resting her head on his shoulder as her other hand went into his right.

“Hmm,” Angelina looked around the group. “Lee, truth or dare?”

“Truth. I don’t want to get up.” Lee didn’t look up from where he was lying on the ground by the fireplace.

“Ok, which girl on the quidditch team would you date?”

“That’s lame Angelina, be more creative next time.” Lee looked up at the the gal. “My first pick is you but Emile’s a super close second. I think she might surpass you soon.”

“Oh Lee, you’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” Emile said as she blushed across the circle from him. George laughed and elbowed her in the gut by accident, causing Emile to gasp.

“Ok, Fred. Truth or dare.”

“Truth, I don’t want to move away from Angelina.” Fred smirked at Lee and Oliver laughed much too loudly.

“What is the weirdest dream you’ve had?” Lee smiled at Fred, his eyes staring at no one in particular.

Fred launched into extensive detail of a dream about wrestling a pig that turned out to be Princess George, the heir to the throne and biological son of Queen Elizabeth the first. Emile found herself slowly dozing off and she put her head on George’s shoulder. She zoned out of the game as she closed her eyes and began to fall asleep. But that didn’t last very long.

A warm pair of lips was pressed against hers. Emile’s eyes flew open in shock to find Oliver Wood’s eyes centimeters away from hers.

Emile shoved him away quickly, standing over him. “What the hell?” She asked, looking around the room. The drunk smiles were gone, everyone was staring at Emile in shock. Everyone except Angelina, who had began to cry.

“That was so cruel. Emile, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be sorry. Fred say you’re sorry!” Angelina weakly punched the redhead next to her, drunken tears streaming from her eyes.

Fred stood up and looked at Emile for a long moment, opening his mouth, only to throw up on the floor in front of them.

In the chaos that followed Oliver pulled Emile aside. “I kissed you because you aren’t the best looking and you’re kind of clingy. Just so you know.” With that said he fell onto the floor in a dead faint.

Emile stood by the fireplace, alone and confused. What had happened? Why had this happened? What was wrong with her?

The final thought echoed in her head as Emile ran up to her dormitory and into her bed in an attempt to hide from everyone and everything.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days the people of the quidditch team didn’t talk to each other much. Those who remembered what had happened refused to talk about it, and those who didn’t were worried it had something to do with them. Lee Jordan wasn’t talking to Emile again, and Oliver Wood didn’t remember anything.

News of the first year Colin Creevey being petrified had spread through the castle. Nasty rumors were popping up everywhere, so no one was particularly concerned that the team wasn’t talking to each other.

Ginny Weasley was distraught, apparently she sat next to Colin in Charms. Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. Emile tried to comfort Ginny, but the first year had a habit of disappearing that Emile was insanely jealous of. The twins only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

“They went for Filch first,” Neville said, his round face fearful. “And everyone knows I’m almost a Squib.”

Emile put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. The past week she had seen Neville in the library a lot and had grown a bit closer with him as they discussed herbology. He had an amazing aptitude for it.

Two weeks before christmas holidays Professor McGonagall came around to see who was staying for the holidays. Emile didn’t sign her name. She didn’t care if that meant she had to go to the Minister’s dinner. Heck, she might even enjoy it for once.

A few days later, Emile was lying on her bed watching Carrot run across a rope net she had hung up on the wall.

“Hey Emile,” Angelina pulled back her curtains and entered Emile’s section of the room, no doubt shocked at what was in front of her. It had been a while since Emile had pulled back the curtain surrounding her section, and for good reason too. The floor was littered with clothes and empty dishes. Half filled cups of tea sat on the wardrobe. A small pile of unopened letters sat in the corner.

“Oh, hello Angelina.” Emile didn’t look down, just picked up Carrot and placed her on her shoulder. “How may I help you today?”

“This is creepy,” Alicia stuck her head in behind Angelina, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Emile, I wanted to know if you would join us in the new Dueling Club that Lockheart’s starting.” Angelina walked over to Emile’s bed and climbed up next to her.

“Only if you tell me what happened that night.” Emile sat up, crossing her legs and staring at Angelina.

“Emile, we aren’t telling you because we care about you.” Alicia said from where she was still at the curtains, refusing to come in.

Emile stared at Angelina pleadingly. After a few minutes her friend sighed and looked over at Alicia.

“I can’t say no to her puppydog eyes.” Alicia rolled her eyes as Angelina turned back to Emile. “Ok well from what I remember we were playing truth or dare, and it was Fred’s turn to choose someone and he chose Oliver. Being the rebel he was, he chose dare. Fred was very tipsy, Emile, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose. He dared Oliver to kiss the last girl he would consider the worst date, and I think you know what happened next.”

“What the fuck guys, that's not so bad.” Emile stared at Angelina. “What, did you think I would get offended? I wouldn’t date me either.”

“Don’t you have a thing for Oliver though?” Angelina stared at her incredulously.

“No!” Emile laughed for the first time in days. “Oh my god you guys, I need to go find Fred and George.”

“Will you come to the club after?!” Angelina called after her as Emile ran down to the common room in her socks.

“Fred!” Emile ran into the common room, panting. “George!”

The common room was empty. Emile ran up the stairs to their dormitory, sliding to a stop in front of their door. She burst into the room, looking around anxiously. Lee was sleeping in the corner, or at least he was until she came in.

“What do you want?” Lee frowned at Emile.

“I need to find Fred and George,” Emile panted. “I need to tell them I forgive them.”

“Don’t you think you ought to apologize to me?”

Emile stared at her friend. “Why would I need to apologize, Lee? Because someone kissed me? Because you’re jealous? No, I don’t think I need to apologize to you one bit.”

A battered piece of parchment under George’s pillow caught her attention. As Lee attempted to figure out a comeback Emile grabbed the parchment and left the room.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Emile whispered, tapping the parchment with her wand. A detailed map of the school appeared in front of her, and Emile unfolded the parchment and searched for her targets. They weren’t in the great hall with the rest of the dueling club, but Angelina and Alicia were. Finally, Emile spotted the duo exiting the kitchen and entering the hidden passage. Emile folded the parchment and stuck it into her pocket, running out of the common room and into the secret passageways.

As she turned in the darkness along the narrow path, Emile heard voices up ahead.

“Do you hear something, Fred?”

George barely had enough time to say the words before Emile crashed into the twins. She felt her glasses fly off of her nose as she fell backwards, bruising her tailbone as she fell onto the floor. She felt the map slip out of her pocket and onto the floor.

“Lumos,” the three of them said after a great deal of scrambling. The light from their wands lit up the darkness, Illuminating  the blurry faces of the redheads in front of Emile.

“Merlin’s beard, Em.” Fred helped her up and stood there awkwardly as George picked up the map and looked it over.

“I just wanted to tell you that you, Fred Weasley, are an idiot and I forgive you.” Emile leaned forward and hugged the redhead as George laughed beside them.

“See Fred? Told ya Emile wouldn’t get offended by Oliver.” George rolled his eyes as Emile before tapping the map with his wand. “Mischief Managed.”

“Now where are my glasses?” Emile squinted as she looked down the dark tunnel blindly.

“Are you a witch or what?” Fred punched her in the arm as he raised his wand. “Accio Emile’s glasses!”

The glasses flew out of the darkness and into his hand. “I think they’re a bit broken,” He said as he handed her the glasses. One of the lenses had cracked.

Emile rolled her eyes. “Again? Oculus Reparo.” She put the glasses back on her nose, relieved to be able to see clearly again.

As they headed back towards the Gryffindor common room Emile attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So what were you guys doing in the kitchen?”

“Actually, George had an idea to bait you into forgiveness by ordering your favorite foods and smuggling you into our room.” Fred elbowed his brother, who blushed, oddly enough.

“George, that’s really nice,” Emile smiled at the twin. “I had no idea I was that important to you guys.”

“Oh don’t worry, you aren’t.” Fred winked at Emile as she shoved him in the side.

“Hey, has Lee apologized to you yet?” George looked over at Emile as they entered the common room.

“No, in fact he thinks I ought to apologize to him.” Emile shrugged, trying not to show that it actually really hurt to have Lee ignoring her. Fred put his arm around her comfortingly for a moment as they headed up the stairs to their dorm.

Once inside they three of them sat on the George’s bed, balancing the trays of food in between them. Lee wasn’t in the room anymore so they left the curtains open as they wolfed down a feast of roast duck, candied yams, and baked beans. Emile tore into a warm dinner roll as dipped it in the beans, receiving odd looks from the twins.

“My dad and I used to do this,” she muttered, smiling down at the food. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the twins exchanged a look and instantly felt like hitting herself. Why would she say that she used to do this in front of the twins? That was very stupid, she didn’t want them to worry about her.

After dinner, they sat around telling jokes as they ate through a box of treacle fudge and sipped on pumpkin juice. As the clock approached ten pm Lee returned, so Emile left the group of boys to sleep.

When Emile got back to her dorm, Alicia and Angelina were talking in hushed voices on Alicia’s bed.

“What happened?” Emile walked over, unsure whether or not she should sit with them.

“Emile. Oh thank goodness it’s you.” Angelina grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the bed with them. “Ok, so we were at the dueling club, right?”

“Yes?” Emile leaned forward slightly, intrigued.

“And so Harry was dueling that git Draco Malfoy.”

“Angelina continue don’t keep her in suspense.” Alicia snapped as her friend paused again. Emile frowned slightly, it was very unlike Alicia to snap at her friends.

“Ok so Malfoy conjured a snake that was trying to attack everyone, and Harry was totally egging the snake on.” Angelina nodded sadly and looked at Emile.

“Sorry? I don’t quite understand?” Emile looked over at Alicia for an explanation.

“In parseltongue. Harry Potter talked to the snake in parseltongue and it almost attacked some Hufflepuff named Justin.”

“Parseltongue? I thought that was a dead language.”

“No, it isn’t. Salazar Slytherin was a parseltongue, you know.” Alicia put her hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Now everyone thinks Harry is the heir of Slytherin.”

Emile frowned and looked off into the distance. She wasn’t sure if Harry was the heir, as unlikely as it seemed the facts all pointed to him. Harry was the obvious choice, a bit too obvious.

The next day the news spread like an infection throughout the school; Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were now paralyzed and in the hospital wing along with Colin and Mrs. Norris. There was only one question on everyone’s minds, what could be powerful enough to paralyze the dead?

Chapter Text

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? People asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, often leaving Emile to trail after them as they shouted, “Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

“It is not a laughing matter,” he said coldly.

“Oh, get out of the way, Percy,” said Fred. “Harry’s in a hurry.”

“Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant,” said George, chortling.

Ginny didn’t find it amusing either. “Oh, don’t,” she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George took Emile’s idea and pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

The day after term ended Emile had packed her mokeskin bag with everything that she needed from school over the holidays. Her dress robes had stayed at the Diggory’s manor so she didn’t need to worry about packing them.

With a last look at the dorm room Emile grabbed Carrots cage and headed down to the common room to say goodbye to her friends. A majority of the students were going home for the holidays, so the common room was filled with people looking for their last minute things.

“You can still stay you know.” Fred walked up on her left, smiling.

“Yeah Em. Don’t make us shove you into a potato sack.” George tickled her from behind.

Emile slapped his hands as Fred laughed. “Oh you guys, it’s better for me to get away from a while. Besides, I miss Nepeta.”

“Please send as a picture of your horse.” Fred punched her in the shoulder.

Emile turned and hugged her friends. “I’ll miss you guys.”

They hugged her back for a moment before shoving her away.

“Get lost, you.” George smiled as Emile turned and walked away, swinging her mokeskin pouch in one hand and carrying Carrots cage in the other.

The train ride to the station was boring, Emile slept most of the way in an empty compartment while Lee sat in the compartment next to her, casting glances her way every once in awhile.

At the station she sat an uncomfortable three feet away from Cedric on one of the benches while they waited for his parent’s. Once Mr. Diggory popped out of a nearby fireplace, the three of them went off to Diggory manor for dinner. Mrs. Diggory spent most of dinner fretting about the state of Emile’s hair and telling her how a lady should not play quidditch.

“I can’t believe tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.” Cedric stretched as they walked to their bedrooms.
“I can’t believe you’re actually talking to me.” Emile shoved him in the side and he shoved her back.

“Does this mean we can be friends again?”

“I just miss having someone to talk to.” Emile shrugged and waved goodbye as she entered her bedroom and got ready for bed.

The next morning, Emile got up at the crack of dawn to take Nepeta out for a ride. Her horse waded through a large amount of snowdrifts to the meadow by the lake. Emile spent a while clearing away the snow under a tree so that Nepeta wouldn’t have to worry about the cold while she went onto the lake to skate. The entire lake was frozen over, skating had been a tradition for her and Cedric for many years but he usually spent all day Christmas Eve preparing for the dinner party.

Emile returned to the manor that afternoon with frozen hands and a sore bum. In the stables she had Darren take a picture of her standing with Nepeta before leaving her horse in his care. She ran over to borrow the family owl to send the picture to the twins before she headed to her room to prepare for the dinner party.

The moment she entered the house, Mrs. Diggory demanded she went to shower and change.

“I’ll be sending over a hairdresser to fix that mane you call your hair.” Mrs. Diggory shoved Emile into the restroom and closed the door behind her. A look around the room showed that once again Emile had no choice but to follow orders.

After a hot shower Emile stepped out of the bathroom in her robe, the stylist was tapping her foot impatiently.

“Oh darling you didn’t need to worry about your hair, I will be shampooing your hair.” The stylist grabbed Emile’s arm and dragged her to her room.

For the next half hour Emile was massaged, scoured, shaved and plucked. Her hair was elaborately curled and her nails were painted ruby red. Several layers of makeup were slathered onto her face and she was handed a strapless, lacy red dress that ended just below the knee.

“I look ridiculous.” Emile stared at herself in the mirror.

“Hush now darling, you are pretty young girl.” The stylist handed her a pair of black heels as Emile complained.

“What do I wear on top of this? It’s freezing outside,” Emile looked at her stylist hopefully.

“I am sorry, Miss Emile I was not given anything else.”

Emile sighed. “Well, thank you anyway,” she said as she turned and left the room, wobbling down the hall towards the front entrance.

“Toes pointed, dear!” The stylist called after her. Emile swore under her breath. She should have stayed at Hogwarts.

Several hours later, Emile was sitting at a long dinner table in between two foreign men around her age. Mrs. Diggory was across the table desperately trying to keep a conversation going between Emie and one of the men.

“So, you’re from Bolivia?” She turned to the one on Emile’s right.

“Bulgaria,” the boy said curtly, returning to his food.

Emile tried not to laugh at the defeated look in Mrs. Diggory’s eyes. As Mrs. Diggory turned to say something to her husband Emile turned to the boy.
“I’m very sorry about this,” she said.

“It is alright. My parents want me out of home too.” He smiled at Emile.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” Emile laughed. “Mrs. Diggory nearly had a heart attack when she learned I was on the school Quidditch team.”

“You play Quidditch?” The boy leaned forward slightly.

“Yes, well I’m only a reserve but I don’t mind too much.”

“I play Quidditch too.” The boy smiled at her.

The two spent the rest of dinner discussing their predictions for the Quidditch world cup two years from now, much to Mrs. Diggory’s both approval and disapproval.

“I think that Bulgaria will win.” He smiled at Emile as dessert was served.

“Why do you say that?” Emile said as she took a bite from her christmas pudding.

“Because I am on the team.” He laughed along with Emile.

“But you’re so young!” Emile looked over at him. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am still in school.” He laughed.

“Oh, I feel so embarrassed. I don’t even know your name!” Emile blushed.

“My name is Viktor, Viktor Krum.”

“No way,” Emile gawked at the person next to her. “My friends are your biggest fans!”

“Well, your friends have good taste,” he teased, winking at Emile. “And vwhat is your name?”

“Emile, Emile Gorska.”

When Emile left the Minister’s mansion that evening she was positively radiant. She had met Viktor Krum. She had talked to the Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum. She had even danced with Viktor Krum. She was to be pen pals with Viktor Krum.

Emile gave a small smile as she entered her room and kicked off her heels. Through her tired eyes she noticed a common school owl carrying two parcels at the foot of her bed. She quickly scribbled out a short letter to the twins before handing it to the owl to carry back. Then Emile washed off the makeup, put on her flannel pajamas, and fell into a long awaited deep sleep.

The next morning Emile found a slightly larger pile of parcels sitting at the foot of her bed. There was one from the twins, one from Angelina, one from Cedric, one from the Diggory’s, and one from Mrs. Weasley.

The first thing Emile opened was the bulky parcel from Mrs. Weasley. It contained another red sweater with a large E on the front, which Emile was very thankful for. She had outgrown the last one. There was also a box of treacle fudge, which Emile put aside to hide for later. Angelina had given her a broom care kit, complete with a twig trimmer and handle polish. Cedric this year had gotten her a thick grey beanie with a matching scarf, both of which had her name embroidered on them. The Diggory’s had obliged to her request of new black high tops.

The twins parcel exploded at first, it was a box that had been rigged with a damp cloth and a wet start firework. Inside the box however, was a framed photo of Fred, George, Emile, and Lee. It was taken at Diagon Alley, they were all eating ice cream. George had whipped cream on his nose, and Fred and Lee were laughing as Emile wiped it off.

Emile smiled and hugged the photo to her chest. She missed those days. Before Lee continuously got into one of his jealous rages. There wasn’t anything to be jealous of, and if he liked her in that way he could just tell her and get it over with.

Emile pulled on jeans and a black long sleeve shirt, pulling her Weasley sweater on over it and putting the new beanie on her head. She then grabbed her new shoes and headed down to the dining hall, where Uncle Amos and Mrs. Diggory were finishing up breakfast. Emile ran into a half dressed Cedric on the way there.

“Merry Christmas!” She said, hugging him.

“And to you too,” He wiggled out of her grasp, blushing. “Merlin’s beard Emile, I haven’t got a shirt on.”

Emile laughed as he ran back to his room, continuing on her way to the dining room.

“Emile Gorska, a lady does not wear hats such as those indoors.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Mrs. Diggory.” Emile curtsied to the couple before sitting down in her usual seat.

“Oh for goodness sake, it’s Christmas!” Uncle Amos bellowed. “Let the girl do as she wishes once in awhile.”

Mrs. Diggory merrily wrinkled her nose and returned to her morning tea. Emile helped herself to a stack of pancakes and crispy bacon, pouring maple syrup over the entire stack of food.

“Now Emile, I have three letters for you.” Uncle Amos pulled out a pile of parchment from his pocket and passed it down to her. “I believe one is from your father.”

Emile gingerly picked up the pile, looking over each envelope in turn. One was, indeed, from her father. Another was from the twins and the third was from an anonymous sender.

“Thank you, Uncle.” Emile folded the letters and tucked them into her pocket.

After she had eaten her pancake mess Emile excused herself from the table and went to the parlor, a large room with a glass ceiling and plenty of sofas. There were large glass doors lining one wall that were often open during the summer.

Emile sat on her favorite sofa by the window, warming herself in the weak sunlight that reflected off the snow. The first letter she read was the one from the twins.

Em,

You met Viktor Krum? Ron will be so jealous when we tell him, he’s in love with Krum. Oh, Fred says thank you for the candy. And the picture of the horse. He say’s your horse is very nice. Fred should just come here and write this letter himself.

Fred here. Blimey Em, Viktor Krum! That’s a pretty big deal. Maybe you’ll end up married and have dweeby little quidditch playing offspring who never stop complaining. George wants me to apologize for that sentence. George is taking back the letter. Remember me!

George here. You aren’t missing much, Hermione’s in the hospital wing. Apparently she was jinxed something awful and now has the face of a cat. But we don’t get to see her, so it’s not that exciting. Thank you for the muggle candy, some of this stuff is actually quite good.

See you soon

George & Fred

Emile smiled and read the letter over again. She had no intent of marrying Viktor, she hardly knew him. As for the compliment about her horse, they would have to come over and see Nepeta themselves one day during summer break.

With a sigh Emile tore open the letter from her father.

Dear Emile,

I really miss you kiddo. I’ve sent you some money so that you can get yourself a christmas present from your father, who knows how much longer I’ll be around.

I hope you’re doing well in school. Merry Christmas.

~Piotr Gorski

Emile read the letter over twice more, taking in every word. It sounded bad. She knew her father was being forced into sobriety in prison, and that no doubt would have taken it’s toll on his mental and physical state. The inmates there could hurt him. So much could go wrong.

Emile sat on the sofa, thinking, for a long time. The sky had clouded over and a fresh layer of snow was dusting the ground when Emile realized she was really cold. Shivering, she walked over to the fireplace and put in a few logs.

Taking out Mrs. Diggory’s wand, Emile pointed it at the fireplace and cried “Incendio!” The fireplace burst into life, crackling merrily as Emile grabbed a blanket off a nearby sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. After attempting to get comfortable on the floor, Emile stood up and grabbed several pillows from the nearby sofas and arranged something similar to a beanbag chair on the ground.

After a few minutes she opened up the third, anonymous letter.

Emile Victoria Gorska,

We have never met, but I have heard much about you. I would prefer to remain anonymous for the sake of whom I am writing about. You’re a smart girl so it shouldn’t be difficult for you to understand what I am about to say. Please stay away from Neville. He has had a difficult childhood and knowing who you are would only make it worst for him.

Emile frowned as she read the letter a second time. First off, Neville was still a child. Second off, she knew all about what had happened to their mother and had no intention of telling Neville the truth any time soon. As Fred and George often said, she was a pretty good liar.

Chapter Text

When everyone returned to Hogwarts for the next term Hermione was still in the hospital wing. There were all sorts of nasty rumors going around about her getting attacked over the holidays, so students were constantly filing past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her furry face. Madame Pomfrey drew the curtains around her to spare her of the shame, upsetting several desperate students. After attempting to take matters into their own hands Fred and George were banned from visiting the hospital wing.

After a rather boring Thursday with history of magic and double defense against the dark arts, Emile found herself with Fred and George in the hidden library spot working on an essay.

“Em, what in the name of Merlin are you using.”

Emile looked up from where she was writing out her essay to find George staring at the pen in her hands.

“That isn’t a quill,” Fred said as he grabbed it from Emile’s hand.

“No Fred, it’s a pen.” Emil swiped through the air, trying to get it back. “It’s an advanced muggle tool that has the same effect as a quill but you get less ink on your hand.”

“Oh,” Fred passed the pen onto George before turning to look at Emile. ”I want one.”

Emile laughed as George began clicking the pen obsessively in the background.  Reaching into her bag she pulled out two more pens, handing one to Fred before returning to her essay. It became obvious that writing in silence was out of the question as the two of them continued to click the pens angrily at each other.

“Oh grow up you two.” Emile rolled her eyes and smiled as she shoved the roll of parchment into her bag and stood up to leave.

“Wait, I’m done too.” George stood up and followed her out of the chamber, leaving Fred to finish the essay on his own.

As they walked down the chilly corridor a weak ray of sunlight broke through the clouded sky, warming Emile’s black cloak.

“Let’s sit for a moment,” she suggested, walking into the courtyard and sitting on a nearby rock, George sitting down next to her. A group of first years was playing exploding snap in one of the unused classrooms, their laughter echoing throughout the courtyard.

“I can’t believe it’s already February.” George stretched as he spoke, bumping Emile in the head with his arms. She poked him in the ribs and he let out an involuntary spasm.

“I can’t believe Lee still isn’t talking to me.” Emile rolled her eyes at George and he grinned.

“He’s probably sad that you’re on the team now. No one's around to spend time with him anymore now that Wood’s got us all practicing every chance he gets.” George nudged her as he spoke. “Sound familiar to you?”

“Don’t be rude,” Emile said indignantly as she shoved him back. “Oh, did you hear about the next Hogsmeade trip?”

“Yes, February thirteenth, right?”

Emile nodded. “They can’t do it Valentine’s day because it’s on a monday this year.”

“I bet Fred will ask Angelina.” George rolled his eyes.

“I wish there wasn’t so much drama.” Emile let out a sigh. “I wish it could be more like last year.”

“I don’t.” George smiled at her. “Last year you weren’t talking to us in February.”

That Sunday’s Hogsmeade trip was cut short by a certain Oliver Wood calling them together for a Quidditch practice that ended up running late into the night. Emile and the twins hadn’t had a chance to grab a butterbeer at the three broomsticks. They vowed to spend Valentine’s Day Evening toasting to their singleness, since they decided they were much too tired to do so after practice.

When Emile awoke on Valentine’s Day she heard Alicia talking about Lockheart’s Morale booster for the school. Exactly what it was became apparent when the gryffindor girls walked into the great hall for breakfast. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling.

“It’s getting caught in my hair,” Alicia complained as she ran her hand through her hair repeatedly, showering them with confetti..

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison. Emile grinned at the potions professor, laughing as he scowled at her.

“Blimey, it looks like Celestina Warbeck threw up in here.” Fred took a seat across from Emile, shaking confetti off of his bacon with a look of disgust.

“I think I saw Ginny delivering a letter to one of the dwarves,” George mumbled around his toast as he sat down next to Emile.

“I have absolutely no idea who that could be for.” Emile glanced over at Harry, who was running out of the great hall with a dwarf in tow.

Throughout the day classes were continuously interrupted by the dressed up gnomes. Katie Bell received a romantic poem from her boyfriend, who in return received quite the snogging session during passing period. Emile was happy for her friends, who had all received some form of proclamation of love.

“No, it’s fine I really don’t mind.” Emile attempted to convince them during dinner.

“Emile, for shame!” Angelina put her head on Emile’s shoulder. “You don’t need to lie to us, you can admit that you just want somebody to love.”

“I’ve got Carrot and Nepeta.” Emile shrugged. “Besides, those dwarves look ridiculous.” Fred high fived Emile as she made the last comment, Lee turning red next to him.

That evening Emile was heading back to the common room from the library after writing up a quick review for charms. Fred and George had told her to meet them in their room at eight thirty so that they could go get those butterbeers, and it was almost eight.

“Emile?” A familiar looking first year came up behind her.

“Ginny, good to see you.” Emile smiled at the first year. “How’ve you been?”

“Everything is alright.” Ginny gave Emile a smile as she spoke in a somewhat monotone voice as she handed her a folded piece of paper. “I was told to deliver this to you.”

“Oh,” Emile took the paper. “Um, thanks Ginny I guess I’ll be seeing you later?”

When she looked up the redhead had disappeared. Emile shrugged and unfolded the piece of paper. It turned out to be two pieces of paper, a photo and a sketch of sorts. When Emile looked a bit closer she realized it was a sketch of her. It was very rough but surprisingly good. She was sleeping in this drawing, a small smile on her face.

Emile entered the common room and sat down on one of the sofas, admiring the artwork a moment more before looking at the photo attached.

“This bastard,” she whispered, standing up and running up the stairs.

“Lee Jordan!” Emile burst into the boy’s dormitory, her face red. Fred and George jumped up from their beds and Lee hid behind his.

Emile marched across the room. “If you think that after three and a half months you can simply hand me some items that make me over emotional and sentimental then,” she paused in front of the cowering boy, “-then you know me too well. My god Lee Jordan!” Emile threw her arms around her friend as the twins cheered in the background.

“Well mates, I hope you won’t say no to a hot mug of butterbeer.” George grabbed Emile by her shoulder and pulled her out of the room while Fred laughed at a smiling Lee.

Once they were heading down to the kitchen George grabbed the papers from Emile’s hands. He smiled at the drawing of her, teasing her about the romantic implications of the gesture as she rolled her eyes and tickled the pear on the painting.

“Four hot mugs of butterbeer and a small platter of pumpkin pasties to the fourth year gryffindor boys dormitory,” Emile smiled at the elves as George looked at the photo. The elves bowed and rushed off to complete her request as Emile grabbed George’s arm and pulled him out of the kitchen.

“So when was this taken?” George stuck the photo out in front of Emile, causing her to almost walk into a wall.

“Give me that, you witless potato sack.” Emile snatched the photo from him, smiling at it fondly. “It was the morning after the summer gala, there’s always a big pancake breakfast for everyone who was too drunk to return home the night before.”

The moving, pajama clad Emile and Lee in the photo smiled at the camera and sprayed whipped cream onto their stacks of pancakes as a hungover Mrs. Diggory shook her head in disappointment in the background.

“You’re going to have to invite us to the next summer gala of yours.” George winked as they entered the dormitory.

“With any luck there won’t be another summer gala for me.” Emile laughed and pushed him aside, running up the stairs as he chased her.

The rest of the evening the four of them sat around on Lee’s bed, since it was the cleanest of the groups. Well, the cleanest they could all access. Nevertheless by the time Emile left Lee’s pillows were across the room and his carefully laundered sheets were covered in crumbs. But he didn’t seem to mind, he seemed happy to be part of the group again.

Not that Lee saw much of them after that, a big quidditch game was coming up and Oliver had the team training every evening. The weather was growing better, and by the saturday before the game they had even come out of a few training sessions dry.

“You know, a negative side of the dry weather is that you lot smell ten times worst.” Alicia and Angelina laughed at Emile’s comment.

“Don’t be so rude Em,” George shoved her as Oliver and Fred gave themselves self conscious sniffs.

“I’m not being rude, i’m just getting you all bulks of deodorant for your birthdays.”

“Muggle deodorant?” Fred wrinkled his nose at her.

“Of course, it smells much better than wizard deodorant.” Emile winked at Fred. “You’ll have all of the ladies chasing after you.”

Fred sniffed the air, posing. “I attract ladies just fine on my own thank you very much.”

“Please, put your arms down,” Angelina gagged and ran off to the girls dormitory with Alicia in tow. Fred lowered his arms as the rest of the team laughed and headed off to shower.

They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. “Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast.”

“Oliver, you should know I’m not a large fan of eggs,” Emile wrinkled her nose and dumped half of her eggs onto each of the twins plate.

“Well you don’t need to eat, we don’t need you really.” Wood rolled his eyes at Alicia, attempting to make a joke.

The twins glared at Wood from across the table as Emile stared at her team captain. Fred gave Emile a piece of toast which she slowly buttered, staring down at her plate.

When it was nearly time for the match Emile told the twins she would meet them by the field before heading up her dorm to change. Or at least that’s what she told them, she didn’t change at all. She simply grabbed her book bag and went to the silent corner of the library.

One of the tables was by a window that overlooked the quidditch field. Emile sat down in the chair and pulled out her sketchbook, angrily making marks in lead across the page. Every now and then she would look up at the crowd slowly gathering at the field. Emile couldn’t stand watching the field and got up to go into the hiding space.

An hour and a half or so later, Lee Jordan climbed into the space and sat down beside Emile, who was lying across her beanbag chair.

“So I take it you haven’t heard the news?”
“Did Harry catch the snitch in two minutes? Did Oliver block every quaffle? Did Angelina score the most goals in Hogwarts history?” :

Lee shoved her shoulder lightly. “Don’t be upset, there wasn’t even game.”

“What?” Emile sat up, her glasses askew on her face. “What happened?”

“Another attack. Hermione Granger and a Ravenclaw named Penelope Clearwater, I think. That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff.” Lee sighed and leaned against the back of one of the bookshelves. “If these attacks continue they’re going to have to close Hogwarts.”

The next day the school was buzzing with even more news, Dumbledore had been suspended from his post as headmaster. The school was doomed.

Chapter Text

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. Emile spent most of her time in the library, studying for the final exams that seemed to still be scheduled, despite all of the attacks on students.

Oliver had apologized to Emile for the rude comment he had made before the nonexistent match. He blamed it on nerves, said that it just slipped out, that he was too anxious to realize what he was saying. Emile forgave him, they didn’t talk that much anymore and if he was attacked tomorrow she would probably feel terrible about it if she didn’t.

Now that the curfew had been moved to six o’clock, the common room was often extremely crowded. There was often a large group of people gossiping till midnight. Emile hid in her dormitory if she needed to finish homework, but usually she was with the twins or Lee in the common room.

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made an announcement at breakfast.

“I have good news,” she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

“Dumbledore’s coming back!” several people yelled joyfully.

“You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin!” squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

“Quidditch matches are back on!” roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, “Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.”

There was an explosion of cheering. Emile clapped along with the crowd, happy to receive some good news. There was an aura of hope on the grounds that day.

It didn’t last very long.

Later that day, Emile was with Lee in the library when echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall’s voice, magically magnified. “All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”

Lee turned to Emile. “What do you think happened now?”

“What do you think?” Emile rolled her eyes at her friend. Obviously there must have been another attack.

Since it was almost six pm, Emile went to take a long hot shower and retired early to her room to read a little.

Two hours later, a loud stampede down the stairs caught her attention. Emile followed the crowd down to the great hall to find everyone celebrating. She had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle. Harry and Ron scored four hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, and Professor McGonagall stood up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat.

“So what exactly happened?” Emile asked George as they sat watching the sunrise outside.

“Harry and Ron found the entrance to the chamber of secrets, fought off a basilisk, and brought back Ginny. Ginny was the one opening the chamber, she was being possessed by the ghost of young you-know-who. Professor Lockheart is a phony whose memory spell backfired and now he can’t remember who he is.”

“Thats a lot to take in,” Emile said after a moment of silence. George smiled at her and nudged her in the side.

“You’re so cold, why didn’t you say so before!” He took off his knitted sweater and forced it onto Emile, who hadn’t grabbed her own sweater and had shown up in her black tank top.

“Come on, I think there’s some pudding left.” Emile pulled George up and they headed over to where a few remaining students stood around the tables.

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences — Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled, and Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Emile joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny in a compartment for the return trip. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was surprisingly good at it.

They were almost at King’s Cross when Harry suddenly said something. “Ginny – what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?”

“Oh, that,” said Ginny, giggling. “Well — Percy’s got a girlfriend.”

Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head. “What?”

“It’s that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” said Ginny. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” she added anxiously.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

“Definitely not,” said George, sniggering. Emile elbowed him in his arm and he rubbed it, still smiling.

Soon they arrived at the station and Emile hugged the twins goodbye before going off to find her other friends. Once she had successfully tracked down Lee and Angelina, Oliver came up to her.

“Emile, I know this year’s been weird but I want to try to start over.” He handed her a slip of paper. “I’ll write to you, I hope you’ll write back.”

“Have a good summer, Oliver.” Emile gave a small smile as he walked away before heading over to the Diggory’s. She couldn’t wait to see her horse again.

Chapter Text

It had to be late July. Emile never knew what day it was during the holidays. All she knew was that the summer gala was in a week and she was going to spend a few nights with Angelina in France for her friends birthday, so she didn’t have to attend.

Summer had passed without many disturbances. Cedric often accompanied his parents on ministry related outings and left Emile home alone, which was fine with her. It gave her time to go riding. She had explored most of the Diggory’s land by now and had several favorite little hiding spots.

Her favorite was by the river that pooled into the nearby lake. The river ran over a smooth rock shelf and into a pool of water, forming sort of a nature made slide. Emile had built herself a small tree house in a tall cedar by the river, with a little help from Darren the stableboy. He often joined her on her evening rides.

One morning as Emile was packing herself a small lunch to take down to the lake Mr. Diggory stopped her to show her the Daily Prophet.

“Look here, Emile! Arthur Weasley’s gone and done it! I bet they’re having a mighty fun time in Egypt, loads of fascinating tombs there to explore.” Mr. Diggory rambled on as Emile read over the Article he had stuck in front of her.

Mr. Weasley had won seven hundred galleons in the Daily Prophet's galleon draw. The whole family had gone to visit the eldest brother, Bill, in Egypt.

“That’s great, they deserve it.” Emile smiled and grabbed her sack lunch before Mrs. Diggory could come in and lecture her about what a girl should and should not eat.

Fred and George hadn’t written to her much this summer, no doubt they were having too much fun to think about her. Lee and Angelina wrote to her regularly, and she had even corresponded with Oliver a bit.

As Emile cantered away on Nepeta towards the meadow she couldn’t help but wonder about the upcoming school year. It was her fifth year, OWL year. How she did in school this year guaranteed her entire future.

When they approached the lake Emile stripped off her clothes and dove into the cool water, relishing the feeling of the cold on her overheated body. Her blue one piece swimsuit matched her eyes, according to Mrs. Diggory. Mrs Diggory also thought a young lady ought to wear a bikini, to show off her womanly body.

Mrs. Diggory thought a lot of things.

Emile spent the morning attempting to ride Nepeta bareback, sketching the various scenes around her, and swimming in the lake. After eating lunch she mounted Nepeta and headed down the river to their hiding spot.

As Emile was fixing a leak in the roof of the treehouse a loud hoot behind her caught her attention. A large spotted owl was perched on a branch outside, supporting a battered looking great gray. Both were carrying letters addressed to her.

The spotted owl gave Emile the usual Hogwarts letter, containing a list of supplies and a letter telling her to be at kings cross by 11 on September 1st. There was also a shiny silver prefect badge. Emile couldn’t believe her eyes. Her, a prefect? What would Fred and George think?

Emile felt like slapping herself. They would have to put up with it, there was no changing this now. As Emile folded the letter back up the spotted owl flew off, leaving a poor Errol to feebly flap over into the treehouse and sink onto the floor next to Emile.

“Oh you poor poor bird,” Emile cooed as she stroked the owl on the head. “They made you fly all the way from Egypt, you did so well!”

Errol allowed himself to be pampered for a few minutes before giving Emile a letter.

Em,

Sorry we haven’t written much. You probably saw in the paper that we’re off in Egypt with Bill (who say’s hi) and the rest of the family (who also say hi). Ron used Errol to fly Harry a birthday gift, poor bloke must be exhausted after all this traveling.

Egypt’s wicked, the old wizards here cast some gruesome spells that caused muggles to mutate when they entered the pyramids. Our favorite is the one with extra heads. Fred says to tell you we’ve eaten beetles and the only way you can beat that is if you try escargot when you’re in France with Angelina.

Mum say’s we’ll be going to Diagon Alley the last week of holiday’s, maybe we’ll see you there?

~Fred and George, George and Fred, George wrote this his name should go first

P.S. Let Errol rest a day before returning, I don’t think he’ll make it back if you don’t

P.P.S. Percy’s head boy. It’s unbearable.

Emile smiled as she finished the letter. She would have tried escargot even without them insisting she did, it was on her bucket list.

As she tucked the letter into her pocket a loud clattering sound sitracted her. Emile stuck her head out the window of the treehouse to see Darren sitting on the ground, building supplies scattered around him.

“You alright?” Emile called as she jumped out of the tree.

“I’m fine,” Darren said as he stood up shakily. “I’ve brought the roof tiles you asked for,”

“Wonderful!” Emile grabbed one of the bags of tiles and hauled it into the treehouse. Darren followed her with another bag and soon they began finishing up the roof, working to the beat of whatever was playing on the muggle radio Darren brought with him.

Well I think it’s almost done,” Emile said once they had climbed down to admire their work.

“Almost?” Darren groaned as he stretched his back. “You’ve been working on this all summer, it looks terrific.”

“But will it survive the harsh winter?” Emile glanced over at Darren. “I’ve ordered some glass windows to place into the holes that are currently there.”

“Merlin’s beard Emile, are you going to hook it up to electricity next?” Darren smiled as he began to saddle up Mr. Diggory’s horse, an American paint horse named Meeko. Darren often rode the horse to make sure it got excersize, Mr. Diggory didn’t have enough time during the week to do it himself.

“Wait,” Emile grabbed his arm before he could leave. “Will you take a picture of me in the tree house? I want to send it to some friends.”

Emile climbed up into the shelter, smiling down at the wizard camera as Darren took the photograph of her. She had a wizard polaroid, so the picture was quickly printed and ready to send.

Errol settled down in one of Nepeta’s saddlebags for the ride back, Emile and Darren talked quietly so that they wouldn’t wake the overworked owl. As they approached the manor Mrs. Diggory and Cedric watched Emile closely as she crossed the lawn. They were having tea with a dark skinned lady in casual clothes.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jordan!” Emile called as they rode past the porch. She had met Mrs. Jordan at the train station, and found her much more likable than her husband. He seemed almost medieval in comparison to her.

“Hello Emile!” She smiled back. “Will you be joining us for tea?”

“Oh, my dear Emile must tidy up before joining us and you were just about to leave.” Mrs. Diggory stepped in, desperate to avoid interaction with Emile.

“I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Jordan turned again to where Emile was dismounting Nepeta. “Lee says hello, and that he insists you respond to his last letter because you most likely forgot!”

“I will!” Emile called as she led Nepeta into the stables for Darren to take before heading off to shower.

A few weeks later, Emile was strolling down the streets of Paris, arms linked with Angelina and Alicia. They spent their time shopping, eating, and visiting the various historical landmarks. On this particular day Alicia and Angelina had dressed Emile up very fancily, they were all in skirts and short sleeved shirts.

“I feel very exposed,” Emile muttered to Angelina as a gust of wind blew her skirt back.

“Flaunt what you’ve got,” she responded in a sing song voice as they approached the restaurant at which they were meeting Angelina’s parents for her birthday dinner.

When Mr. Johnson informed the girls they could order whatever they wanted, Emilie immediately informed the waiter that she would be trying escargot. He laughed slightly and mumbled something in french which Mr. Johnson laughed at before taking the rest of their orders.

Once the food had arrived Emile insisted that Alicia take a picture of her eating escargot for the first time, to prove to the twins she had done it. It was pretty good, though Emile had some difficulty scooping the snails out of their shells. The butter sauce was delicious.

After dinner they went to a nearby cafe where they all had a delicious creme brûlée. That was the last night they spent at Paris, and the girls were up till three o’clock in the morning talking about everything and nothing as they watched the city lights from their hotel window.

The last week of holiday’s, Emile got up bit later than intended and skipped breakfast in order to be at Diagon Alley on time. The moment she arrived at the leaky cauldron she bumped into Lee, and they went off together to buy their supplies. The twins were nowhere to be found, and after purchasing their books and some new robes Lee dragged Emile over to where the prototype of the newest Broom, the Firebolt, sat in a display case.

“Isn’t it amazing?” He gushed as they stood amongst the crowd of admirers.

“That there is the best broom in the world!” Emile and Lee turned as a voice sounded behind them.

“Pity it’s just a prototype.” George walked over next to Emile as his brother finished his commentary of the broom. Emile smiled widely as she enveloped George in a hug before turning to Fred, who allowed one moment on hugging before he pushed Emile away.

“Now Em, don’t want people to think I’m soft.” Fred winked at her as she rolled her eyes.

“So Em, fifth year.” George looked over at her as they walked down the alley way on their way to the joke shop. “Isn’t this the year people usually start dating.”

Emile felt her cheeks growing hot. “George, I am not going to give you the talk, that’s really a job for your mother.”

“Oh believe me, our mother doesn’t need to teach us anything.” Fred turned and winked at Emile as his brother laughed.

The group stopped by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for some sweet sundays. Fred and Lee eagerly helped themselves to the strawberry and peanut butter flavor, while George and Emile got chocolate and raspberry.

“One of these day’s I want to try the earl gray and lavender,” Emile said as they walked out of the shop, cones in hand.

“Em, that’s a flavor for grandma’s and girly girls,” Fred said as they walked towards the leaky cauldron. “And you, darling, are none of those things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I don’t act like a girl?”

Fred laughed. “Definitely not the kind of girl I would date.”

Emile frowned and licked her ice cream slowly. That was three guys who found something wrong with her. What was it exactly that was wrong with her? She wished she knew.

Outside of the leaky cauldron they ran into Mr. Jordan and Mrs. Weasley. After a quick goodbye Lee left with his father and the three left followed Mrs. Weasley into the leaky cauldron along with Ginny and Percy.

“Congratulations Percy,” Emile smiled at the newly appointed head boy as they entered the tavern. He smiled proudly for a moment before striding over to where Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione.

"Harry. How nice to see you.”

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh.

“I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands.

"Very well, thanks --"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy --"  

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you --"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Fred muttered to Emile under his breath.

“I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

“You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner..."

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh. "We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he said to the group. "But Mum spotted us."

Emile left half an hour later after briefly catching up with Ginny and Hermione. When Hermione bought an adorable long haired tabby cat as a birthday present, Emile realized that it was her birthday today. No one else knew, but it was good to know she had survived another year.

As Emile tumbled out of the fireplace into the Diggory mansion, hands filled with shopping bags, she found herself tripping onto Cedric.

“Oh, good you’re back.” He quickly helped her get up. “Are the stores still open? I need to pick up a few quills and a new set of robes.”

“They should be, I would hurry if I was you,” Emile said as she picked up her shopping bags and went down the hall to her room. She still had to finish packing her trunk.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Emile and Cedric arrived at the train station half an hour early, Emile had already changed into her robes and was nervously pinning her prefect badge onto her uniform.

“Blimey Em I can’t believe you’re a prefect too. We get to go sit in the prefect’s carriage on the way here!” Cedric was babbling on next to her. She didn’t bother to point out that he wouldn’t talk to her anyways as they climbed onto the gleaming Hogwarts express and headed down to the prefects carriage.

Cedric immediately went over to Roger Davies, a Ravenclaw prefect, and began talking about quidditch with him. Emile went over to a cushioned seat by the window and pulled out a sandwich she had made before leaving.

She fed some of the carrots she had brought to snack on to Carrot, smiling to herself.

“Cannibal,” she teased the animal, knowing fully well she couldn’t understand.

She stared out the window as she ate, watching familiar and unfamiliar classmates running around, saying goodbye to their families. Emilie watched the twins board the train, feeling a hole open up in her stomach. Would they still like her after they found out?

“Emile!” A familiar dark haired boy sat down next to her, grinning.

“Lee! Are you a prefect too?”

Lee shrugged. “I guess I am. Percy better do a good job because if we’re the best our year can do, Gryffindor is screwed.”

Once the heads of houses had gone over the prefect duties and they had a little team bonding, the new prefects and heads of houses were free to do as they wished for the remainder of the trip. Percy and his girlfriend sat together in the corner of the compartment, no doubt snogging.

Lee and Emile didn’t go looking for Fred and George. Emile made up a story of her ankle hurting so that her friend wouldn’t insist on going. She was still very nervous about what Fred and George would think of them being prefects.

As the sky began to darken the train drew to a startling halt in the middle of nowhere.

“We can’t be there yet,” Lee said, looking around.

The lights in the room flickered and the temperature dropped rapidly. Frost began forming rapidly on the train windows. The half emptied glasses of pumpkin juice froze solid.

“What’s going one?” Penelope cried from where she was huddled against Percy.

Emile was too busy getting Carrot out of her cage and into her pocket in an attempt to keep her pet warm to respond.

Suddenly, the door to the car swung open, and a large cloaked figure spet through the carriage. Lee put his arms around a trembling Emile as it swept by, an icy chill sweeping over the room.

Emile couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at that moment, all of her worst memories rushing back in a flood of anxiety. All the times she’d had to deal with her father. All the times she felt as if the world hated her.

The memory that stuck out most was that of her fourth birthday. She remembered it clearly, it had happened on the same day as a family reunion. She had been so excited to celebrate with her cousins, until the adults got a bit drunk. Her father had gotten a bit aggressive and when she refused to get him another beer he beat her. She could remember the striking of his fists against her body as the adults attempted to stop him. Her arm was broken that day. It was also the day she found out why her father was a drunk. Her wizard mother had an arranged marriage with him, and when she ran off to marry a wizard it broke him. She left him with a two year old baby and a broken heart. What else could he do but turn to alcohol for comfort.

As warmth returned to the carriage compartment Emile realized that she was crying. She swiped at her face hastily as Lee got them each a glass of water.

“What were those things?” Lee asked Percy as Emile took a small sip.

“Dementors, they’re on the hunt for Sirius Black.” The head boy was frowning as he turned back to his girlfriend.

“Why would they need to search the hogwarts express?” Lee asked Emile, who shrugged in response.

At that moment the compartment door opened and an older man walked in.

“Is everything alright in here? I’ve been sent to check and make certain everyone’s alright, one student fainted when the dementors came by.”

“I think Emile could use some help,” Lee said as he waved at the man.

“Ah, well lets see.” The man walked over and sat down in front of Emile, looking into her eyes. “You seem a bit shaken up, here.” He placed a chunk of chocolate in front of Emile. “This will help.”

“Thank you, um?”

“Professor R. J. Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” he said, smiling at them as Emile took a hasty bite of the chocolate. The sweet candy warmed her on the inside, and she let out a feebly smile at the Professor as he stood up and walked away.

Soon the train was rolling down the tracks again, and Emile and Lee moved over to Percy and Penelope. They questioned the head boy and girl about the OWL’s as they drew nearer to the school, Emile out of anxiousness and Lee because he had nothing better to do.

When they arrived at hogsmeade station Fred and George descended upon them with the wrath of hell. They didn’t mind too much that Emile and Le were prefects, they were just disappointed Emile hadn’t told them.

“I thought you could trust us be now.” Fred shook his head in mock disappointment as the horse drawn carriages made their way up to the castle.

“I just don’t think we can be friends after this, severe act of betrayal.” George pretended to wipe a tear away and cross his arms.

Emile rolled her eyes at Lee and they laughed as the carriages drew nearer to the castle. As everyone waited in the great hall Ron told Fred about Harry fainting because of the dementors.

“He said he heard someone screaming,” Ron frowned. “That new professor, Lupin, He chased the dementor away with some sort of charm. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You haven’t seen much little brother,” Fred laughed at Ron’s astonishment.

“It’s good to know we have a teacher who knows what he’s doing,” Emile said as the doors swung open and the first years came marching.

“Lee, we have to show them to the dormitory,” Emile whispered into her friend's ear.

“I can’t be trusted with so much responsibility.” He whispered back.

“Don’t make me do this on my own,” she shoved him as the sorting began.

Once the sorting was complete, Dumbledore stood up to make his yearly speech.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast...."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises -- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting across from Emile, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively.

Lee put his hand over his face next to Emile. “We’re all screwed,” he whispered to the people around him.

Fred and George snickered as Emile elbowed him in the gut and he doubled over, gasping.

"On a happier note," Dumbledore continued, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. "First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Emile joined in with this round of applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Hagrid was often talking about the creatures who lived in the Forbidden Forest, no doubt he would make an excellent Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

As the last morsels of pumpkin tart disappeared from the golden platter, Dumbledore gave everyone the word that it was time for bed. Emile eagerly stood up and dragged Lee over to the first years, only to find Percy already taking care of them.

“Come on Em, it just means less work for us.” Lee grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the great hall.

They hadn’t even turned the corner when a familiar scott ran up to them.

“Hey Emile,” Oliver gave Emile a side hug as they walked on. “Oh, and you Lee. I see you two were made prefects. That great, you guys can use the fancy bathroom now. Quidditch Captains get to use it too.”

Lee was frowning at Oliver as they walked towards the common room. Emile used all her willpower to keep from rolling her eyes at him as Oliver talked about his plans for the team this year.

“Fortuna Major,” Lee said a bit loudly as they approached the portrait of the fat lady. She swung open, and the three of them clambered into the common room.

“It’s been nice catching up but I want to unpack a bit before going to bed,” Emile faked a smile at the two boys before heading up the stairs to the fifth year girls dormitory.

Her trunk was sitting by one of the beds by the window. Emile smiled and whipped out her wand, getting to work on recreating the loft bed. It had grown easier to do this over the years, and was done in less than fifteen minutes.

Emile drew back the curtains that now surrounded her section before moving some stuff around. The loft bed she moved right next to the window and the cabinet she put on its right. Her trunk she put at the foot of the loft before reaching in to unpack several items she intended to hang.

The first couple were these hollow glass balls in all the colors of the rainbow that you could hang from the ceiling. Emile had enchanted them so that a small flame flickered inside the. Once they were hung her area was very well lit and very pretty.

Carrots cage was quickly unpacked and hung on the wall. Emile refilled the water bottle and food bowl before placing her pet into the cage, smiling as Carrot ran over to the wheel and began to run.

As Emile unpacked her picture frames Angelina burst into the room, running over to Emile and enveloping her in a hug.

“I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“It hasn’t even been a month,’ Emile laughed as Angelina looked around her section of the dorm. “Do you like what I’ve done?”

“It’s gorgeous.” She gushed as she looked around. “I love the quilt you brought, it’s very soft.”

“Thank you.” Emile smiled as she hung the frames on several hooks in the wall.

Angelina looked around for a moment more before Alicia came in, and the two of them went off to shower. By the time they returned Emile’s curtains were closed and she was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning Emile ate walked down to breakfast with the twins, only to be abandoned as they went over to where their younger brother was sitting with Harry and Hermione.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron from George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors...."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking.... They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

Emile helped herself to toast, sausage, and fried tomatoes as the group talked. She had had a weird reaction when the dementors came through the prefects car, but she wasn’t going to say anything about that. The only person who knew was Lee, and he wouldn’t say anything.

When they received their course schedules for fifth year it turned out that the only class the fifth years had today was astronomy, which wasn’t until later that evening. Emile went up to her dormitory to take a nap, happy to wake up at two pm.

“What are you two up to?” Emile yawned as she joined the twins in the common room.

“Blimey Em,”Fred laughed as he saw her.

“You look exhausted.” George smiled at her as she yawned again and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I am. I don’t know why, I’ve been sleeping since breakfast.”

Fred shook his head. “Don’t make us throw you into the lake to wake you up, that won’t go well.

“Shut up, Fred.” Emile sat up and threw a pillow at him. He batted it away, smiling.

“Well now, you asked what we were up to.” George smiled at Emile as he pulled out a piece of paper. “Check this out.”

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Emile looked up at the boys, slightly confused.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Fred gushed, his face aglow.

“We’ve been evaluating our life decisions, as well as our chances of getting decent jobs at the ministry.” George looked over at the paper Emile held as he spoke.

“Our chances are pretty low,” Fred admitted shamelessly. “So we came up with a flawless plan.”

“Almost flawless,” George rolled his eyes at his brother. “We could use some money to start us off, the plan won’t work without a bit-”

“Ok but what is the plan?” Emile interrupted George as he began to ramble.

“We are going,” Fred began, leaning forward from where he sat across from Emile.

“To open up” George continued, rubbing his hands together.

“A joke shop!” They said in unison, grinning.

Emile smiled at the twins. “Like Zonkos?”

“But better!” They said eagerly.

At that moment Oliver walked over to the group, eager to talk about the new training methods he came up with over the summer. Emile frowned at George, who rolled his eyes back at her. She was getting very tired of Oliver constantly butting into conversations to talk about Quidditch.

“Hey guys,” Lee sat down next to George, interrupting Oliver and smiling at Emile as she mouthed thank you to him. “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” George turned to his friend quickly.

“Sirius Black has been sighted near here. Some muggle town it was, ministry didn’t get there in time to catch him.” Lee glanced over at Oliver as he spoke.

“So, he’s getting closer, and no ones caught him yet.” Oliver frowned skeptically. “How does he do it? Move so fast without being spotted?”

“Who knows?” Fred sighed, folding up the paper about his joke shop and tucking it into the pocket of his robes.

“Merlin, it’s almost dinnertime.” Emile stood up as she stared at the clock on the wall. “I’d better go fetch my books, we have astrology afterwards.”

Lee let out a groan and struck up a new conversation as Emile went over the stairs leading to the girls dormitories. Once she got to her room she grabbed her bookbag and star maps, carefully sealing the lid onto her ink jar as she placed it into her bag. Though she prefered to use pens many professors frowned upon muggle tools.

When Emile returned to the common room the boys were nowhere to be found. Emile headed down to the great hall alone.

At the end of September, Emile had a new favorite class. She had never been particularly good at Defense Against the Dark Arts before, but she enjoyed the way Professor Lupin taught and that vastly improved her participation and dedication to the class.

Most evenings she was in the hidden corner of the library finishing the vastly increased amounts of homework. The professors seemed to all be trying their best to hammer in every fine detail of their subject into the students heads.

Quidditch season began in the beginning of October, Oliver made sure to be the first to book practices on the field. There was a quiet sort of desperation in Oliver’s voice a's he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance -- my last chance -- to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world -- injuries -- then the tournament getting called off last year,” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat.

"But we also know we've got the best-ruddy-team-in-the-school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

"We've got three superb Chasers." Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride.

"And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing...." Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

“These are our hours, Oliver,” Emile said as she gave the captain a small side hug.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Oliver's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

One evening when Emile entered the common room with the rest of the team, they noticed a crowd gathered at the notice board.

“What’s going on?” She asked Lee, who was talking to Angelina by the board.

“The next Hogsmeade date was posted.” Lee pulled her over to the board. “It’s on Halloween again.”

“That sounds fun,” Emile smiled at her fellow prefect. “I need to buy some new quills.”

“Oh, is that your idea of fun now?” He laughed and shoved her in the arm, his nose wrinkling as he touched her muddy robes.

“Well, I should go change, see you later,” Emile turned away after a moment of silence between them, an unexplainable knot forming in her stomach.

As she crossed the common room, she heard Fred talking about how he was almost out of stink pellets, no doubt he was telling Harry and Ron about Zonkos.

The Monday before the Hogsmeade trip, Emile woke in a particularly foul mood. Monday’s were terrible. She had History of Magic, Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts. A terrible pattern of classes, starting with bad and ending with good. And an essay was due in every one of them.

Emile didn’t speak during breakfast or lunch. When dinner came she felt overwhelmed with all of the recently assigned homework and shut out everyone, reading one of the works of Bathilda Bagshot as she chewed through a baked potato.

“Emile?” Fred waved his hand in front of her face, causing her to choke on a mouthful of food.

“What do you want, Fred? Is someone dying? Is that why you’re trying to kill me?” Emile stood up from next to the dumbstruck redhead, turning to leave.

As she crossed the great hall, she bumped into Oliver Wood, who smiled and started to say something.

“Mention Quidditch to me and I swear I will break your broomstick,” She said as she strode past him on her way to the library.

After over an hour of vigorous studying, Oliver came into the hidden section of the library and sat down across from her.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why would I do that when I can read all about the Giant Wars,” Emile said without looking up from her book.

After a minute of silence, Oliver spoke again. “Do you really think that all there is to me is Quidditch?”

“Yes,” Emile said without thinking. “You’re so passionate about it, it’s like someone talking about their soulmate.”

“I don’t like this blunt Emile.”

“Emile doesn’t like OWL year.” She refused to look up, feeling tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

Emile paused before handing Oliver a stack of papers next to her. “Just look, I can’t even write a proper essay. Three D’s.” She wiped her cheek with one of her hands as a tear slid down it.

“But you got an E on the Defense Against the Dark Arts Essay!” Oliver attempted to cheer her up.

“But I still got three D’s,” she sniffed. “I’m going to fail the OWL’s at this rate, and I don’t even know what I want to do after I graduate.”

“It sounds like you’re under a lot of stress,” Oliver put his hand on Emile’s  shoulder comfortingly. “Do you want to take a break from Quidditch?”

“W-what?” Emile stuttered, looking at the captain in astonishment.

Oliver smiled at her. “Only if you want to, I can see you’re stressed out and it’s fine with me if you want to take a break.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

After a moment of silence, Oliver cleared his throat. “I was um, I was also wondering if you maybe wanted to go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“What, like, like on a date?” Emile stared at the seventh year, dumbstruck.

“Well, yes, I guess you could put it that way,” Oliver smiled at her weakly.

“Um, sure. That sounds fun,” Emile smiled at him. Inside she was very confused, her mind was convinced that any moment she would wake up from this dream. She didn’t.

Emile apologized to Fred for being cross with him at dinner. He said it was fine, he didn’t care too much about OWL’s so it didn’t bother him that he’d gotten P’s on his Essay’s. George had scraped by with some P’s and A’s, which exceeded his expectations. They were sad to hear she was taking a break from Quidditch, but they pretended to understand.

Emile was very nervous about the Hogsmeade trip. She was meeting Oliver at noon, so she made sure to go to Zonko’s with the twins beforehand. The day of the trip, she put on her favorite sweater and beanie, even letting Angelina to do a bit of her makeup.

“I told you he wanted to date you!” Her roommate kept repeating.

“And I’m telling you he just feels bad,” Emile responded over and over.

She didn’t tell the twins about the date, and when Lee joined them on their way down to the village she definitely did not mention it. The group escorted Hermione and Ron to Honeydukes and Zonko’s, laughing at their astounded expressions.

As Fred and George showed their brother the best products in the joke shop, Emile slipped out of the shop, opening the door carefully so she didn’t ring the bell. She headed up to the Three Broomsticks, nervously rubbing her hands together. A light rain was falling and  it was so cold Emile could see her breath.

Outside of the Three Broomsticks she could see Oliver, who smiled as she approached. He held the door to the tavern open for her as they entered, sitting down in one of the booths and ordering butterbeers.

“So,” Oliver looked over at the bags Emile had next to her. “I see you went to Honeydukes.”

“Yes, I like to stock up on sweets.” Emile looked up at Oliver. “Where do you usually go during the trips?”

“Well, I usually go to Spintwitches, Tomes and Scrolls, and this place.” Oliver gave a small laugh. “I don’t really do that much.”

“Have you ever been to Gladrags?” Emile held onto her cup of butterbeer, warming her cold hands.

“A clothing store?” Oliver gave her a really odd look.

“They have screaming socks, I bought them for Cedric last year for Christmas,” Emile smiled and took a large gulp of her butterbeer.

After they had finished their drinks, they headed to the Shrieking Shack. Oliver was quite interesting one on one, when he wasn’t talking about Quidditch. When Emile mentioned a muggle object he actually knew what it was, unlike so many wizards here.

“There it is,” he said as they drew closer to the abandoned building. “It’s got to be one of the most haunted places in Britain.”

“Sounds very dangerous,” Emile teased. “What’s the story behind it?”

“They say that every full moon you can heard shrieks and thuds coming from inside, that a beast unlike any other dwells within.”

“Or a werewolf,” Emile rolled her eyes, smiling at Oliver.

“Or a werewolf,” He agreed, putting his arm around her.

At the Halloween feast, Emile sat with Angelina, her face aglow. Angelina wouldn’t stop asking questions about the date, and Emile had to whisper her responses to her so that the twins wouldn’t hear.

“Em, you disappeared from us sometime after Zonkos,” Fred leaned across the table as she helped herself to the pudding.

“Indeed I did, did you miss me Fred?” Emile batted her eyelashes at the redhead.

“No, but George certainly did.” Fred winked at his brother, who smirked and rolled his eyes.

“Where did you go, Em?” George asked as he leaned over.

Emile shrugged, trying her hardest not to blush. “I got some quills, grabbed some butterbeer. Stopped by the shrieking shack.”

“I heard from Percy that there was some oafs snogging by the shrieking shack,” Lee leaned over and joined into the conversation. “Did you see who it was?”

“No!” Emile said much too quickly, her face growing hot as Angelina giggled next to her.

Lee stared at her, open mouthed. Before he could say anything the feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

“Em, wait up,” Fred called out as she quickly dragged Angelina out of the great hall.

Lee ran up to then, gasping. “It was you?”

“Maybe.” Emile felt her face growing even hotter.

“And Oliver?” Lee stared at her, jaw dropped.

“Yes!” Angelina cried out next to her, jumping up and down.

“I can’t believe it,” Lee stared at Emile. “I thought you knew…”

Emile frowned at her friend, knowing the answer. “Knew what?”

“I… nothing.” Lee began to walk away from her.

“Lee, please don’t ignore me again,” Emile reached out and grabbed his arm. “I’d miss you, you’re one of my best friends.”

“I--” Lee broke off his sentence, smiling feebly at Emile. “Just give me a week to wrap my head around this, alright?”

Emile nodded and let go of his arm as they approached the moving staircases. He hung back in the crowd to wait for the twins as Angelina pulled Emile onward.

“Why is this place so crowded?” Angelina asked, turning to Emile just as Dumbledore swept through the group, heading towards the portrait. The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore.

Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sit. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily.

"Poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professor," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Chapter Text

That evening everyone slept in the great hall. Dumbledore conjured up squashy purple sleeping bags for everyone to sleep in, Emile didn’t sleep very well. She was up well into the morning, staring at the star covered ceiling and fretting about her own worries.

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of the day telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and Replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a complete lunatic," said Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy. "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

“The first Quidditch match is this Sunday,” Oliver said one day when they were studying together in the library, Emile leaning against Oliver.

“Cedric told me he had been made Captain of the Hufflepuff team, and that they were playing you lot this week.” Emile absentmindedly wrote down some notes from the battered old potion book she had once again checked out of the library. It helped her be top of the class and most liked Gryffindor of Snape’s, and she intended to stay that way.

“Really?” Oliver shifted next to Emile. “What position does he play?”

“Um, seeker I think,” Emile chewed on her lip, uncertain whether that was correct. “I’m pretty sure it’s seeker anyways.”

All of her friends grew more and more stressed as the game drew nearer. Emile was forced to listen to angry rants from each of the team members at least once, though most of them were from Oliver and Fred. Oliver was convinced that the team wasn’t taking Hufflepuff seriously and Fred was upset because he thought Oliver wasn’t taking them seriously.

“With the amount of trouble you get into it’s hard to,” Emile tried to joke with Fred.

He glared at her for a moment before smiling a bit. He seemed to lighten up after that.

The morning of the match, Emile sat between Lee and the Quidditch team. Her friend had resumed talking to her again, though he didn’t seem as open as he had been before. They were going to watch the match together, since neither of them were on the team and Lee wasn’t commentating on this match.

"It's going to be a tough one," said Wood, who wasn't eating anything.

"Stop worrying, Oliver," said Alicia soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went.

Emile had a large umbrella, fit for a family of five, that she brought down to the field. Lee got them good seats in one of the front rows and they huddled under the umbrella as the rain and wind lashed at the people on the stands.

As the sky grew darker and the rain fell harder, Gryffindor was leading with fifty points.

“If someone doesn’t catch the snitch soon this game could go into the night!” Emile yelled to Lee over the crowd and rain.

At that moment, Cedric flew past them, chasing a golden flash. Harry noticed and quickly followed, and the two disappeared into the low clouds after the snitch. An anxious moment later Cedric reappeared, the golden snitch clutched in his hand. The crowd’s cheer was interrupted by screaming as the small figure of Harry fell through the cloud bank, followed by a group of dementors.

Emile froze, her breathing growing heavy. Those terrible thoughts, those horrible memories. In the presence of the dementors everything she wanted to keep in came bubbling up to the surface.

She was hardly aware of Lee shouting her name next to her until he shook her shoulders.

“Let’s get out of here!” He yelled over the crowd as he helped Emile up to the castle.

Soaking wet, they entered the Gryffindor common room, Lee helping Emile over to the fireplace. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a piece of chocolate for Emile.

“Thank you,” she whispered as it warmed her up inside.

He hesitantly rested his head on her shoulder. They sat there, staring into the fire for a while until Angelina returned with the rest of the team. Lee pulled her away and whispered something into her ear. She nodded and pulled Emile away from the fire and up to their room.

“Come on dear, you need to go to bed.” Angelina pulled Emile into the room, handing her her pajamas.

“Angelina, wait.” Emile looked up at her roommate sadly. “I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t tell someone.”

“Is this about Oliver?” Angelina took her hand comfortingly. “Breaking up isn’t that hard.”

“No, I don’t want to break up with him. It’s about my family.”

Angelina didn’t tell anyone what Emile told her, though she did keep an awkwardly close eye on Neville for a few days. Oliver was down in the dumps, Emile couldn’t find any way to cheer him up. It wasn’t until she lectured him that he agreed to join the team for a visit to Harry in the hospital wing.

As time passed he grew hopeful again, looking forward to the next terms matches in excitement.

“I think the next Hogsmeade trip will be the weekend before term ends.” Oliver smiled at Emile as they walked through the halls towards the great hall, hand in hand.

“I’ve got to get everyone Christmas presents.” Emile chewed on her lip. She hadn’t even thought about what to get for who, she didn’t even know what she was doing these holidays.

“How about I join you for lunch at noon, and then we can go shopping for presents?” Oliver smiled at Emile as he held the door to the hall open for her.

“I’d like that,” Emile said as she smiled back at him.

Fred and George were talking about going home for the holiday’s before insisting that they join Emile for a butterbeer first thing on the hogsmeade trip.

“The walk there is going to be freeing, I want to warm up a bit before walking around,” George said as he helped himself to a serving of mashed potato’s.

“So should I meet you guys outside the castle so that we can walk down together or at the Three Broomsticks?” Emile mumbled through her mouth of roast chicken.

“Three Broomsticks,” the twins said in unison.

“In case you want to walk down with your boyfriend.” Fred rolled his eyes at George.

“I don’t want to have to skip the trip because I was sickened by you two lovebirds.” George smiled sweetly at Emile as he said this.

She frowned at him. “At least we aren’t like Katie and her ex-boyfriend.”

“You make a fair point Emile, you make a fair point.”

Saturday morning, Emile put on her black trenchcoat and the grey beanie and scarf she had gotten from Cedric last Christmas. Angelina insisted on curling Emile’s hair. She had been attempting to get Emile into more girly things for some while.

Emile got to Hogsmeade a bit earlier than expected and went into Spintwitches to pick out a present for Oliver. In the end she got him a new broomstick servicing kit and new Quidditch gloves. His old ones were pretty worn and he had started getting rashes on his wrist from them.

When Emile entered the Three Broomsticks she bumped into Lee. They sat down together at the counter and waited for the twins. First five, then ten, then twenty minutes passed.

“Why aren’t they here?” Emile asked after finishing her second mug of butterbeer.

Lee shrugged. “The might have decided not to come. You know, they were kind of upset you didn’t trust them enough to tell them about Oliver. I was too.”

“I apologized for that,” Emile sighed deeply.

“Yes, you did.” Lee took a swing of his butterbeer.

“It’s almost noon, Oliver should be here soon.” Emile said right as a familiar Scott sat down next to them.

“Hello Lee,” Oliver smiled as he ordered a butterbeer. “Will you be joining us for lunch?”

“Actually I think I’d better go find um, the twins. Yes.” Lee said, standing up hesitantly. “I’ll see you later Emile.”

“Goodbye, Lee!” Emile called as he left the tavern.

Oliver cleared his throat next to her. “Well I think I’ll have the cornish pasties, what about you?”

“Shepard's pie,” Emile said bluntly as Madame Rosmerta brought over Oliver’s drink.

“You alright?” He asked after taking a sip.

“Fine, I just don’t like the idea that the twins are upset with me.” Emile said as her pie was served.

“Emile, you must learn to trust us,” Oliver smiled sadly at her. “We all love you, but we hardly know anything about you.”

“Oh and believe me when I say you don’t want to,” Emile sighed as she took a bite of her pie. “This is very good.”

“I don’t know how long it will take you to trust me, but I’ll keep trying,” Oliver mumbled around his cornish pastie.

Once they finished their lunch, the two headed out of the tavern and up the street to Gladrags where Emile finally showed Oliver the screaming socks. He found them immensely amusing, and Emile bought two pairs for the twins. In Honeydukes she purchased a bag of Droobles Best Blowing Gum and sugar quills.

As they passed Ron and Hermione on their way out Emile heard Ron say, "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?" She made a mental note to tell Fred about this as soon as time permitted.

“I reckon I should pick something up for Mrs. Diggory in Rosa Lee’s Tea bags,” Emile thought aloud as they strolled past Madame Puddlefoot’s Tea Shop.

“Reckon you could help me choose something out for my mother too?” Oliver smiled down at her as they approached the shop.

“Hmm,” Emile smiled up at him, “But what would I get out of it?”

With that Oliver put his hand around her waist and dipped her, kissing her roughly before standing her back up. A classic movie star kiss.

“You’ve made your point,” Emile said, blushing.

“You’re adorable,” he said, smiling at her.

“You two sicken me,” said a voice behind them. George Weasley was standing with his twin their arms crossed. But they were both smiling.

”In a good way of course,” Fred smiled as he walked up next to Emile.

“What do you two want?” Emile frowned at the twins.

“We were just on our way to Honeydukes after an uneventful butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron.” George said, turning to Emile. “Why didn’t you meet us there?”

“I was waiting for over an hour and you guys weren’t there, so I continued with my plans with Oliver.” Emile crossed her arms as they neared the teashop.

“Of course, did you two go to Madame Puddlefoots?” Fred nudged Oliver in the side.

“No, we’ve been Christmas shopping.” Oliver took Emile’s hand and pulled her into the shop. “And we’ve got a few more stops to make before heading back to the castle so if you’ll excuse us.”

“Come on Fred, they want some privacy.” George nudged his brother as they walked away.

“I hate them sometimes,” Emile sighed as the wandered through the teapots and tea flavors. Emile bought a fine China Teacup set for Mrs. Diggory and a small box of Licorice Spice tea for herself, and after a lot of questioning helped Oliver pick out a fine tea set for his mother.

After a few more stops, the pair headed back up to the castle, Emile shivering violently. She had to pack her supplies, as she was returning home for the holidays the next morning. Though she wasn’t looking forward to the minister’s dinner that much, Emile was looking forward to seeing Nepeta again.

“You need to show me a picture of your horse,” Oliver said as they ate dinner that evening.

“I have pictures in my room; I have a photo album.” Emile finished her salad as she spoke, chewing slowly. “I can show them to you on the train tomorrow.”

“Sounds great,” Oliver smiled as he took a bite of baked potato.

The train ride the next day was normal. Emile dressed warmly in her favorite jeans and a maroon sweater.  She sat in a compartment with Oliver and Carrot, showing him her photo album. She was careful to leave out any details regarding her father, who was in a few of the pictures. He was very interested in her horse and the Diggory manor, and gawked at the sketches of the area Emile showed him.

After the snack trolley came around and she had had a hot cup of pumpkin juice, Emile fell asleep with her head resting on Oliver’s shoulder. She was woken quite rudely when the twins came into the carriage as they reached the outskirts of London, a letter in their hands.

“Em, we just got this,” Fred gasped as George handed her the folded piece of parchment.

“What is it?” She asked, beginning to unfold it.

“It’s a letter for Mr. and Mrs. Diggory asking if you can spend Christmas with us.” Fred smiled at her. “If it’s alright with Oliver, of course.”

“I’m not worried,” Oliver said as he put his arm around Emile’s shoulders.

“Brilliant, we’ll be waiting for your letter then, alright Em?”
“Sounds good,” Emile smiled and rested her head on Oliver once again as the twins left the compartment.

Oliver spoke after a moment, when it was announced that they would be arriving in five minutes.

“I suppose I ought to give you your present now,” he said as he pulled a parcel out of his pocket.

Emile smiled and pulled his present out of her mokeskin pouch, and they exchanged gifts.

“No opening until Christmas,” Emile teased as he shook the parcel curiously.

“Oh but what’s the fun in that?” He smiled and leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek.

“You missed,” she whispered as she leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the mouth.

As she began to draw away he leaned forward, his lips locking with hers again. This kiss was more rough, more urgent, more passionate than any other she’d received. It was a kiss that made her stomach churn, a kiss that left her craving more.

Their snogging session broke off as the train drew to a halt at King’s Cross and the students were being escorted off. Emile jumped off of the train with Oliver, giving him a quick kiss goodbye as he headed off to where his parents were waiting for him.

“Emile,” Lee walked up to her, a small smile on his face. “I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, and to give you your present.”

Emile smiled as she took a small parcel from Lee. “Thank you, I’m afraid I haven’t wrapped your present yet.”

“That’s fine, you can send it by owl.” Lee drew her in for a hug, one that lasted a bit too long. “I’ll see you in the new year.”

“Happy Christmas,” She whispered into his ear as he let her go, confused by the pity she felt for her friend.

As he walked away she spotted Cedric and Mr. Diggory waiting by one of the fireplaces. Clutching the letter from Mrs. Weasley to her chest, she headed toward her Uncle and cousin, ready for the lectures about boys she sensed in her near future.

Chapter Text

Christmas Eve, Emile awoke in the treehouse by the frozen river. She had placed several mason jars of fire around the room, and was feeling very grateful for Darren’s idea of insulating the treehouse walls and ceiling. She had spent several nights in the treehouse, and was beginning to think of it as her own home.

As she ate a quick breakfast of dried muggle cereal, she sat on her sleeping bag wrapped in a blanket, looking out the window across the white wasteland. Here and there little sparrows flitted among the branches of the trees, and a small herd of deer cautiously made it’s way through the woods.

Once she had eaten breakfast, Emile got dressed and packed her hiking bag with everything she had brought along with her for her several night trip. Her ice skates she took off a hook on the wall and wrapped them in her pajamas so that they wouldn’t get scratched, placing them in the bag on top of the many empty food containers.

After a several hour trek through the woods, Emile arrived at the Diggory manor. The mansion was warmly lit and Emile could see Uncle Amos and his wife eating dinner in the dining room. Cedric was no doubt already preparing for the Minister’s dinner, god only knew what took him so long.

“Emile!” Her Uncle grinned as she entered the dining room after dropping of her pack in her room. “Good to see you child, do tell me where you’ve been lurking these past few days.”

“I went camping, Uncle. By the lake. Spent my day’s ice skating watching the wildlife, it was a very eye opening experience.” Emile sat down across from Mrs. Diggory and helped herself to the lasagna and caesar salad before her.

“Oh don’t bother making up lies, child.” Mrs. Diggory sniffed as she took a sip of her tea. “You’ve been off with your boyfriend.”

“I believe Emile, my dear. If she says she was in the forest, she was in the forest.” Emile’s uncle winked at Emile as he spoke. Obviously he had the same idea as his wife, that Emile had gone off to Oliver’s and done god only knows what with the boy.

“Dating a seventh year, simply revolting,” Mrs. Diggory muttered.

It took all of Emile’s willpower to keep from rolling her eyes as she finished her lunch and poured herself a cup of tea.

“Emile, I expect you to be ready to go to the Weasley’s by three pm. I will meet you in the sitting room,” Her uncle said as she stood up from the table.

“I understand, Uncle Amos. I will see you soon then.” And with that Emile headed to her room to freshen up before she left for the Weasley’s.

A nap and a hot shower later, Emile stood in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, her mokeskin pouch in one hand and Carrot’s cage in the other. She had put on her black trench coat and the grey beanie, and was waiting for Mr. Diggory to show up.

“Emile,” Cedric walked up to her in his dress robes, his hair gelled back.

“Cedric, what are you doing here?”
“My father told me to tell you to go on without him, he says you’re old enough to go on your own.” Cedric fumbled around in his pockets before taking out a small parcel. “I also wanted to give you your Christmas present before you left.”

“Oh, thank you Cedric.” Emile smiled at her cousin. “I left gifts for all of you under the tree in the dining room.”

“Good to know, i’ll make sure Mother and Father remember to get them tomorrow morning.” Cedric smiled and gave her a hug before leaving the room.

Emile let out a sigh before taking a handful of floo powder from the ornate bowl next to the fireplace and casting it into the fire, shouting “The Burrow!” as she stepped through it.

A dizzying minute later, Emile spun out of the fireplace, wobbling around the room on unsteady feet until she felt someone grab her arm and sit her down.

“It’s good to see you again, Emile,” Mrs. Weasley’s smiling face came into focus in front of Emile.

“I’m happy to be here. Thank you for inviting me,” Emile said as soon as her vision came into focus again.

“I’m afraid Arthur took the boys out to run some errands for me, but we can take you up to Ginny’s room and get you settled in. Do you remember where it is?”

“Yes, I think so. Are you sure you don’t need any help? I’d be happy to stay and-”

“Oh that’s very nice of you dear but I’m alright for now. Go on, Ginny’s anxious to see you again.” Mrs. Weasley stood up with Emile and pushed her in the direction of the stairs before returning to the kitchen.

Emile had no choice but to go up to Ginny’s room and ‘settle in.’ The young redhead was delighted to see her again and the two of them talked for a while as Emile helped set up the bed she would be sleeping in. As they talked, Emile placed Carrot’s cage by her bed and fed her pet rat, listening to Ginny prattle on and on about Hogwarts gossip. One comment in particular caught Emile’s attention.

“George seems awful jealous of you and Oliver, he always turns red when Fred brings it up.” Ginny smirked at Emile in a way much like her brothers. “I’d say he either wants a relationship like that, or he has quite a little crush on you.”

Emile turned red but before she could respond the twins burst into Ginny’s room and grabbed Emile’s arms, dragging her out as their sister yelled at them in the background.

“You came much earlier than expected, that was quite rude of you,” Fred said as they hauled her into their room. Emile was glad to find it much cleaner than last time, though there was a significantly larger amount of scorch marks on the ceiling and floor.

Emile smiled as she sat down on the bed with them. She had missed her friends.

That evening after dinner, Emile sat by the fire eating popcorn with the Weasley family minus Ron and the oldest brother Charlie, who was away in Romania. But Bill was home for the holiday’s from Egypt, and he had many stories to tell.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do after you get out of school, Emile?” Percy asked her as Mrs. Weasley left the room with Ginny to get a pot of hot chocolate.

“Yes,” Emile answered honestly as she took a handful of popcorn from the bowl in George’s arms.

“Have you made any decisions?”

“No,” Emile laughed. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, what do you enjoy doing? It’s always a good idea to find a job related to your hobbies and passions, that makes working more enjoyable.” Mr. Weasley joined into the conversation.

“Oh I don’t have any hobbies. I’m not very good at any-”

“Nonsense Em, your art is amazing.” Fred leaned over to join the conversation.

“Art?” George looked very confused.

“Well there you go,” Bill smiled, “that opens up a whole list of opportunities. If you like being creative and working with your hands you could paint portraits, be a photographer for the Daily Prophet, study wandlore-”
“Wandlore?” Now it was Emile’s turn to lean forward. “You mean, I could learn to make wands?”

“Or you could work for us,” Fred grinned. “Once we open up our joke shop-”

“You two better not be talking about your, wizard wheezes or whatever it was called.” Mrs. Weasley returned with the hot chocolate, frowning at the twins as she and Ginny handed the hot cups out to the group.

“Why mother, why would you ever think that,” Fred said shamelessly.

“Sometimes I almost feel like she doesn’t trust us,” George said, shaking his head sadly.

“I wonder why,” Mrs. Weasley said sternly, though she couldn’t help but smile at the boys.

Christmas morning, Ginny woke up Emile by bouncing on her makeshift bed. Emile attempted to tell her off, but as soon as she lay back down for a few more minutes of shut eye the twins burst into the room and Emile was dragged off down the stairs.

“Guys I have three parcels by my bed still,” Emile objected as she was dropped onto the living room sofa. “And my glasses.”

“I’ll get them,” Ginny yelled as she ran up the stairs.

Soon the rest of the family was awake, and after a delicious pancake breakfast the presents under the tree were distributed among the people gathered.

Emile smiled at the collection of parcels in front of her, opening the large bulky one first, knowing it contained a honorary Weasley sweater. Emile immediately put the red sweater on, receiving a satisfied smile from Mrs. Weasley as she did so.

Cedric had gotten her a jar of invisible ink, something the twins both gawked over. They had gotten her her own set of wizards chess, promising to teach her the rules. Lee’s present was a small pocket journal, something Emile found delightful. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory had simply given her a small bag of galleons with a note saying to spend them wisely.

The last present left for Emile to open was the gift from Oliver. She wasn’t sure whether she should open it in front of the twins or hide it and open it in the bedroom. When Fred asked what she had received from Oliver, she had no choice but to open it in the living room.

“I’ll bet you a sickle it’s something to do with Quidditch,” she heard Fred whisper behind her as she unwrapped the parcel.

“I’ll take the bet,” George whispered back.

“Well, I think it’ll be something romantic,” Ginny said from Emile’s side.

Fred turned out to be right. Inside the parcel was a charm bracelet, with each of the Quidditch balls on it as well as a tiny charm of the Nimbus 2000, the broom Emile rode. She smiled slightly, putting this bracelet on with the rest of her small bracelet collection.

“That doesn’t count,” George complained as Fred demanded his sickle.

Emile laughed. “Pay up Georgie, that’s what you get for betting.”

“Alright, alright. But you have to promise to never call me Georgie again.”

“Does it make you not feel manly?” Emile punched him lightly in the shoulder a few times. “Feel manly yet?”

“Fight me,” he muttered in response.

“Gladly.” Emile laughed as she began to tickle George in the side. He quickly retaliated and tickled her back, since he wasn’t very ticklish. Unfortunately, Emile was. Once George had her pinned down Fred joined in, and it took the rage of Mrs. Weasley to call them off of their attack.

After they had gotten dressed the twins, Emile, Ginny, and Bill headed down to the nearby muggle village. George thought Emile would appreciate how the muggles decorated their houses for christmas, with their electric lights hanging from their houses.

Emile bought a bag of crisps at the greengrocer which they all shared as they strolled down the street, window shopping. The purebloods found the muggles quite amusing, and weren’t at all surprised to find out Emile was a halfblood.

“Not that it matters that we’re purebloods, we’re considered blood traitors to the rest of the wizarding world. That’s probably why we’re dirt poor,” Fred grumbled as they headed back to the burrow.

“Now Fred, it’s not that bad.” Bill said a bit sternly, sounding a lot like his mother. “We can all still get decent jobs, they look for skill not blood status.”

Ginny sighed next to Emile, sending the message that this was a conversation often had by the family, so she remained silent as they climbed the hill.

“You lot never told me you had a lake by your house!” Emile attempted to change the subject, running off the road as she said this.

“Didn’t we?” Fred looked over at George, who shrugged.

“Well, it’s more of a pond then a lake,” George said as they walked off the main road to the edge of the frozen water.

“You should have remembered from when you were here in the summer,” Ginny smiled as Emile gazed longingly at the frozen water.

“If only I’d brought my skates,” she sighed longingly.

“You ice skate?” George cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why don’t you tell us these kinds of things!”

“We have spare skates you can probably borrow,” Bill said, urging the group onward. “Let’s go home and see if we can find them.”

“Is it even strong enough to hold us all?” Ginny asked, cautiously walking out onto the edge of the ice.

“Only one way to find out,” Fred smiled mischievously as he walked up to his sister and gave her a shove, pushing her out across the ice.

“Fred!” Bill yelled, whipping out his wand in case he had to save his sister. But Ginny skidded out ten feet across the ice before falling on her bum.

“It’s very thick!” She called back, crawling across the lake towards the group.

“Merlin’s beard, you guys,” Bill sighed as he put his wand away. “I’m freezing, let’s go see if father will go skating with you lot.”

Thirty minutes later the group returned to the small pond, skates in hand. Emile got Mrs. Weasley’s skates. She hadn’t joined them because she was busy making Christmas dinner, and insisted that Emile borrowed her skates.

The group played ice hockey and had a snowball fight on the ice, returning to the burrow after a few hours dripping wet and exhausted for Mrs. Weasley’s delicious dinner consisting of roast ham and turkey with gravy and cranberry sauce. A pile of roast potatoes sat by a large bowl of buttered peas. There was even a large pile of wizard crackers, one for each person at the table.

Emile ate as much as she could fit, enjoying every bite. After she had eaten, she brought down Carrot and fed her some peas from a small saucer Mrs. Weasley provided, before the rat settled down in her sweater pocket and fell fast asleep.

For dessert, Mrs. Weasley brought out flaming christmas pudding. Emile found two sickles embedded in her piece, which she put into her pants pocket for safekeeping from Fred, who was greedily looking at the money.

After dinner, George sat Emile down in front of the fireplace with her set of wizards chess, intent on teaching her how to play.

“I’ve played wizards chess before, George,” Emile interrupted him as he began to explain the role of each piece.

“But were you any good at it?” He retorted, grinning.

“No...” Emile smiled feebly and let him continue his explanations.

She swore she heard Mrs. Weasley mutter something to Mr. Weasley that sounded an awful lot like ‘we were like that once.’ She warily played with the small charms on Oliver’s bracelet, wondering if he had liked his present.

“You aren’t even listening to me,” George’s indignant comment broke her train of thought.

“Yes, let’s play. I agree,” Emile leaned forward and studied the board. “Pawn to B3.”

“That isn’t what I-” George was interrupted by a stampede of feet coming down the stairs.

“TAKE IT!” Ginny screeched as she ran into the room with Fred and shoved a crumpled letter into her hands.

“What is it?” George asked, looking at Fred.

“A letter from lover boy,” Fred frowned indignantly, crowding around Emile to see what it said.

Under the supervision of three Weasley’s, Emile opened the letter from her boyfriend.

Dear Emile,

Thank you for the gloves, they’re exactly what I needed.

“You got him gloves?” Fred interrupted, frowning at Emile.

“Quidditch gloves,” Emile said, shoving him in the side.

“Real romantic.” He rolled his eyes at his brother.

“All you got us was socks and muggle deodorant,” George complained.

“That is very nice smelling deodorant, you’re sure you get a girlfriend, you ignorant twat,” Emile said as she shoved George aside.

I hope you like your present, I know you have a bracelet collection from important people in your life, and I wanted to make sure I was on it.

“That's so cute!” Ginny gushed, receiving a glare from her brothers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the upcoming Quidditch season, and was wondering what you thought I should do about Harry. The team can’t risk him having a fallout with the dementors again. He plays such an important role. And he doesn’t have a broomstick. Do you think I should write him a letter or wait until we return to school?

I can’t wait to see you again.

Love,

Oliver Wood

“Most of that letter was about Quidditch,” George frowned at Emile. “How do you survive this?”

“Girl’s find it cute when a guy is passionate about something,” Emile said, smiling as she folded up the letter, putting it in her pocket.

“Passionate?” Fred snorted. “He’s practically married to the sport.”

Chapter Text

After New Years, everyone returned to the school via floo network. When you stepped into the fire you were supposed to say Hogwarts and what house you were in so that you could pop out of your Head of House’s chimney. Bill said it was because they didn’t want too many students getting tangled in the fireplace.

Emile went first, popping out of Professor McGonagall’s fireplace.

“Emile, good. Are the Weasley’s with you?”

McGonagall had barely said the words when first Fred, then George, and then Ginny appeared, falling on top of each other as the struggled to leave the fireplace.

“Good. Now get out of here you lot, don’t want even more traffic in my office.”

Ginny quickly went off to find some of her second year friends while Emile and the twins headed to the great hall for dinner. As soon as they entered, Emile was pulled aside by Cedric, who without uttering a word, handed her a letter. Emile knew who it was from, and gave her cousin a weak smile as she tucked into her pocket.

“Not much longer,” her cousin whispered in her ear before heading off to the Hufflepuff table.

Emile joined the twins at the table and listened to Lee and Angelina’s renditions of their holiday break. Lee had gone to the minister's dinner this year, and Angelina had spent New Year’s Eve in Paris. She showed Emile a photo of her and her cousins watching the fireworks coming from the Eiffel tower.

On the way up to the common room, Emile spotted Oliver talking to a few seventh years. Unwilling to interrupt their conversation, she continued walking with Angelina.

“I heard that in a few weeks we’ll be meeting with our heads of houses to discuss our career paths,” Emile said to Angelina as they approached the moving staircases.

“Oh yes, but I’m not too worried about that. Did you hear anything new about Sirius Black over the holiday’s?” Angelina asked as they entered the common room.

“No, I don’t pay attention to the news.” Emile sat down on one of the sofa’s as she spoke, kicking off her shoes.

“Where could he be?” Her roommate wondered aloud as Emile pulled out her sketchbook.

“I don’t know, maybe he has an invisibility cloak?” Emile said, flipping through her sketches unenthusiastically.

“Unlikely,” Oliver sat down next to her, smiling.

Emile smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Oliver smiled as Angelina giggled across from them.

“Have you talked to Harry yet?” Emile asked, closing her sketchbook.

“No, I was just about to go do that.” Oliver put his arm around her. “I just wanted to say hello first.”

“Go on you big lump,” Emile shoved him away as Angelina’s giggling grew louder.

They watched as he walked away, Angelina turning to Emile with a grin on her face.

“He’s so into you,” She grinned.

“No, I always third wheel to quidditch.” Emile rolled her eyes and laughed before heading to her room.

Once she was inside, she changed into her pajamas and climbed into her bed, taking the letter from Cedric with her. She knew it was from her father. Hands shaking, she opened the worn envelope.

Hey Kiddo,

I’m alive, don’t worry. You always were a worrier, just like your mother.

Another year’s passed and I still haven’t seen you once, do you think that uncle of your’s could maybe bring you for a visit sometime in the summer? I sure would love to see a friendly face.

The food here is garbage, I miss your cooking. I miss our old house. Heck, I even miss that bastard dog you used to have. I’d forgotten what it was like to be sober, and I’m not very happy to say I remember why I hated it so much.

I’ve enclosed some money for you to buy yourself something nice, as a gift from your old man. Spend it wisely, don’t get Doritos.

I love you very much Emile.

~Poitr Gorski

Emile held the letter against her chest, wishing she could somehow connect with her father. Know he was alright. She remembered him telling her that if she was to go into any wizarding field it ought to be something to do with muggles so that she wouldn’t miss out on all the upcoming technological advances. Damn, she missed him.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week.

Emile didn’t mind too much, she spent most of her time studying in the library with Lee. Now that the OWL’s were only a few short months away the amount of homework they received dramatically increased. Emile was doing great in potions and care of magical creatures, not that they did much in that class. She wasn’t too concerned about charms, but history of magic and astronomy were another story. She was terrible at memorizing names and dates.

“I’m never going to get this,” she said one evening, slamming the astronomy book shut.

“Not with that attitude you won’t,” Lee teased. He took the book from her and opened it up to the middle. “Here, I found these easiest to remember. I’ll say the constellation and you plot it on the map.”

After he had named several constellations he took Emile’s chart from her and looked it over. As he did so Oliver squeezed into the space and sat down next to Emile, his ears red.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“McGonagall won’t give Harry back his Firebolt, he needs to train with it if he wants to use it in the match against Ravenclaw. He has no chance of catching the snitch on a Cleansweep.” Oliver grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure McGonagall will come around, she wants us to win as badly as you do. But if Sirius Black did send Harry that broom then we need to put his safety first. Would you rather have to find and train a new seeker or keep your very good current one safe?”

Oliver sighed and put his arm around Emile. “Thank you,” he said, pecking her on the cheek.

“You’re an idiot,” she smirked, kissing him on the lips. “Have you told Harry yet?”

Oliver jumped up, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. “Blimey, I should probably go do that.”

Once he left Lee looked up at Emile, frowning slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him ask you how you’re doing.”

Emile frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You messed up Cygnus and Gemini, the rest are fine.” Lee handed her back the star charts, getting up. “I need to go get a book for muggle studies.”

A few days later, Emile returned to the common room to find everyone buzzing with excitement. Harry had finally gotten his Firebolt, and was cradling it like a baby. Ron’s rat had disappeared, and Hermione’s cat was blamed.

“Scabbers was old anyways,” Fred shrugged it off, not very concerned.

The morning of the match Oliver had Harry put the Firebolt on the table to show off.

“Put it here, Harry,” he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy’s Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.

“Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!” said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely “Penelope and I have got a bet on,” he told the team. “Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!”

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table.

“Harry — make sure you win,” said Percy, in an urgent whisper. “I haven’t got ten Galleons. Yes, I’m coming, Penny!” And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

“Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?” said a cold, drawling voice.

Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

“Yeah, reckon so,” said Harry casually.

“Got plenty of special features, hasn’t it?” said Malfoy. “Shame it doesn’t come with a parachute — in case you get too near a dementor.”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

“Pity you can’t attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy,” said Harry. “Then it could catch the Snitch for you.”

Emile and the Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy’s pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry’s broom really was a Firebolt.

“Good luck out there today,” Emile said as the team rose to head down to the field.

“We don’t need luck Em,” Fred smiled and patted her on the head.

“That’s right, we’ve got a Firebolt.” George grinned and waved as he headed down to the field.

It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; ideal Quidditch conditions. Emile sat in the commentators box by Lee in her jeans and a white blouse.

“They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship —”

“Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall’s.

“Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information — the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —”

“Jordan!”

“Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal . . .”

Emile was chortling to herself in the corner as she turned her attention back to the game. Harry had gone into a sharp dive, followed by Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker. But one of the Ravenclaw beaters hit a bludger at him, and though he managed to avoid it he also seemed to lose sight of the snitch. George vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it.

“Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now, see it turn — Chang’s Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long —”

“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

Emile was laughing pretty hard next to Lee, turning away from the microphone so that it wouldn’t pick it up.

“Do you go off topic on purpose?” She whispered to him.

“All the time,” He replied, grinning at her.

At that moment Harry and Cho dashed toward the Ravenclaw end of the field. They had spotted the snitch! Harry was beating Cho, getting closer and closer each second until Cho stopped, pointing up.

Three dementors were gliding over the field toward Harry, who had his hand under his robes. He whipped out his wand and cast a spell that shot silver light at the dementors, hitting them full force and causing them to fall out of sight.

As Emile saw Snape run off in the direction the creatures had fallen Harry reached out and grabbed the snitch, causing cheers to erupt from the bleachers. Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and the game was brought to a close. Emile watched as the Gryffindor team flew down to Harry and he disappeared from sight under a pile of scarlet robes.

“You should go congratulate your boyfriend,” Lee said as they exited their box with Professor McGonagall.

Before the Professor could say something, Snape strode up and whispered something in her ear, and the two hurried off towards the edge of the field.

Emile ran to the highest point of the bleachers, followed by Lee. They watched as McGonagall yelled at a familiar blonde Slytherin and his henchmen.

“I hope they get detention,” Lee said gleefully as they headed off of the field.

It felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Emile, Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

“How did you do that?” squealed Angelina as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

“With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Emile heard Fred muttered in Harry’s ear.

Emile let Oliver talk as much as he wanted about this victory, she knew his goal for this year was to win Gryffindor the Quidditch cup. There may have been a bit of snogging later on, but that wasn’t till past eleven pm, when at least half the students had gone to bed.

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were up till three talking. They might have been up later, but Emile fell asleep at around three.

Not long after Angelina was shaking her awake.

“Whatsall the hubbubub?” Emile sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“There was some sort of commotion in the boys dormitory. Everyone’s in the common room.”

Emile sighed and grabbed her glasses, wrapping herself up in her quilt before heading down to the common room. As she entered, Fred came down from the boys side.

“Excellent, are we carrying on?” said Fred Weasley brightly.

“Everyone back upstairs!” said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

“Perce — Sirius Black!” said Ron faintly. “In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!”

The common room went very still.

“Nonsense!” said Percy, looking startled. “You had too much to eat, Ron — had a nightmare —”

“I’m telling you —”

“Now, really, enough’s enough!”

Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.

“I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!”

“I certainly didn’t authorize this, Professor!” said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. “I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare —”

“IT WASN’T A NIGHTMARE!” Ron yelled. “PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!”

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?”

“Ask him!” said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan’s picture. “Ask him if he saw —”

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

“Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?”

“Certainly, good lady!” cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

“You — you did?” said Professor McGonagall. “But — but the Password!”

“He had ’em!” said Sir Cadogan proudly. “Had the whole week’s, my lady! Read ’em off a little piece of paper!”

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

“Which person,” she said, her voice shaking, “which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week’s passwords and left them lying around?”

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

The whole house stayed awake for the last few hours before sunrise, knowing that the castle was being searched for Sirius Black. They wanted news on whether he had been caught or not.

Emile fell asleep with her head on Oliver’s lap at around 5am, exhausted. She woke up at dawn when Professor McGonagall came in to announce that Sirius Black had escaped once again.

Chapter Text

Throughout the next few days, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black’s break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast — a Howler.

The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once — Ron had got one from his mother the year before.

“Run for it, Neville,” Ron advised.

Neville didn’t need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him.

They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall — Neville’s grandmother’s voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

“I feel so bad for him,” Emile sighed as she headed to charms with Angelina.

“He still doesn’t know that you’re his-”
“No!” Emile put her hand over her roommates mouth. “He doesn’t know. And you’re the only person who knows, so if we could keep it on the down low, I would really appreciate that.”

After class, Emile went to the library with the intention of finishing her charms homework as soon as possible. Half a roll of parchment later, Oliver came into the library space and joined her. He was working on an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” he said, looking up from the essay. “Are you planning to go?”

“Yes, but I have to cut the trip short. I’ve got my career meeting with McGonagall at three pm.”

“Oh, well we can do something before then, right?” Oliver looked at her, smiling hopefully.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we?” Emile stared at him, confused.

He shrugged. “I thought you might want to spend some time with the twins, and Lee.”

“Of course I do, I always spend a bit of time with them. But I set aside time especially for you.”

“That’s good to hear, wouldn’t want to think that one of them is trying to get your attention.” Oliver smiled at her and she rolled her eyes, grinning.

That Saturday morning Emile walked down to Hogsmeade with Oliver. The stopped by Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft’s Quill shop, and Tomes and Scrolls before heading to the Leaky Cauldron. There they met up with the twins and Lee, and after a cup of butterbeer or two went their separate ways.

“I can’t believe he lets you hang out with three guys,” Fred teased as they headed to Zonkos.

“Why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t own me.” Emile rolled her eyes, and George smiled next to her.

“Have you thought about what your plan is for your future?” Lee asked somewhat cryptically as they entered Zonkos.

“Yes, I think I’ve made a decision.” Emile took a deep breath, turning to her friends. “I want to learn more about wandlore and wand making.”

“Brilliant,” George beamed. “When you become the next Ollivander you can open a shop next to ours.”

“We could have deals, with each new wand purchased from Emile you get a coupon for a free item from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, with an additional purchase of course.” Fred grabbed Emile’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Splendid doing business with you.”

“Absolutely spiffing,” George added as he shook her other hand.

Lee laughed behind them “Come on you lot, these Dungbombs aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Professor McGonagall was surprised by Emile’s career of choice.

“Wandlore?” She gave Emile a curious look. “May I ask why?”

“Well,” Emile hesitated, thinking for a moment. “It’s always interested me. I spoke to Mr. Weasley about it over the holiday’s and when he asked what kind of job I would prefer I said one where I work with my hands. I enjoy creating things, and I think I would be very good at this, given the opportunity.”

Professor McGonagall smiled. “Well, I completely agree.”

“You do?” Emile was surprised, she didn’t expect the professor to be so enthusiastic about wand making. If anything, Emile thought McGonagall would rank wandlore almost as low as she ranked Divination.

“I do, my dear. Not many wizards choose to go into wandlore, but the ones who do usually decide at a young age. I have no doubt you will be as good as Mr. Ollivander.” Professor McGonagall beamed at Emile before quickly flipping through her papers.

“Now, next year for NEWT classes I suggest you do Charms and History of Magic definitely. Astronomy and Ancient Runes are also strongly recommended. Though I would be delighted to see you in Transfiguration, that is really more of an optional class for you.”

“Thank you very much Professor,” Emile grinned and stood up as Professor McGonagall handed her a paper.

“Oh and Emile, dear? In your seventh year, if it interests you, I can get you a letter of recommendation for an apprenticeship with Ollivander.” Professor McGonagall winked at Emile as she thanked her and left the room, thrilled.

Since it was already growing dark Emile saw no need to return to Hogsmeade and instead she went up to her room to unpack her recently acquired objects.

After an hour or so, people began to trickle into the Gryffindor common room where Emile was studying Astronomy. Angelina stopped by to nervously ask what kind of mood McGonagall was in before heading off for her own career meeting.

“Emile!” Oliver sat down next to her on the sofa, putting his arm around her. “How did it go?”

“It went pretty well,” Emile grinned and took out the paper from McGonagall. “I have to take four NEWT classes sixth and seventh year.”

“Four?” Oliver took the paper from her and read it over, frowning slightly. “Wandlore?”

“Do you have something against that?” Emile grabbed the paper back from it, tucking it into her sketchbook.

“It would be a waste of your skill on a broom!” Oliver said indignantly. “Emile you’re amazing, I saw you the first time you played Quidditch, remember?”

“Not like I’ve gotten a chance to ever play in a game since then!” Emile retorted, her blood boiling. “Oliver, Quidditch is really your thing, not mine.”

“So it can’t be our thing?”

“Since when has Quidditch ever been our thing? I haven’t played it since last year!”

“I know but,” Oliver broke off and fumbled for a moment as if searching for the right words.

After a moment he sighed and sank into the sofa.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Emile. You’re a fifth year and I’m a seventh year. It’s stupid to date someone in your seventh year when you know you’ll be going off soon.”

“So, you’re breaking up with me.” Emile shook her head, more disappointed than sad. “I see your point Oliver, but this is still pathetic. If you really cared about me you would try to make it work out between us, but I see that the only thing you’ll ever love is Quidditch.”

With that said Emile took her books and went over to the stairs leading to the dormitories. She was surprised at how little emotion she felt towards this, and at around three am she came to a conclusion. This had been one of those stupid high school flings, and they should have remained just friends instead of becoming friends with benefits.

Chapter Text

Soon the Easter holidays came. Emile spent most of them crammed in the library with Lee, studying anxiously for their OWL’s. The twins joined them sometimes, but overall they weren’t as concerned about the exams as Lee and Emile were.

“I’ve got to get this right,” she repeated over and over, scribbling out star charts and class notes.

“Emile, you need to take a break,” Lee said worriedly as she had him check the fourth star chart of hers in the same study session.

“I’ll take a break when I’m dead,” she replied without glancing up from her potions notes. The battered old potions book had a lot of useful potions that Emile had copied down legibly and organized with most likely to be on the OWL on the top of the pile of parchment.

“Emile, you’ve got them all right!” Lee gave her a tight hug as he passed back the star chart. “You’re sure to do fine on the OWL.”

“I’d better, Astrology and Wandlore are connected, I need to remember these things.”

At that moment the twins came into the hiding hole, scowling.

“What’s up?” Emile asked as George sat down next to her.

“Oliver’s overtraining us in anticipation for the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match next Sunday.” Fred sighed and flopped down next to Lee.

“He’s stressed and keeps repeating the same words over and over again,” George added. “‘We must stay fifty points up in order to definitely win, or we win the match but lose the

Cup. You’ve got that, haven’t you guys?”” He leaned against the shelves and rolled his eyes, groaning.

“I feel very bad for you guys,” Emile put her head on George’s shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. Everyone was having a very stressful time.

Never, in anyone’s memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

When Emile attempted to defend George in the hallways from jinxes, she accidentally struck Neville in the back with the full body bind. This small mess up was the pebble that brought down the dam, and she collapsed in the courtyard, sobbing.

Fred and George helped her to the hospital wing, where Madame Pomfrey diagnosed her with the first nervous breakdown of the OWL season.

“Don’t worry dear,” she soothed as she coaxed a Calming Draught into Emile.

“Will she be alright?” George asked nervously as Emile began to doze off.

“Go to class, you butt,” she managed to mutter before sleep came over her like a black wave.

Several hours later, Emile awoke from a nightmare she couldn’t remember, crying once more.

“I’m s-sorry for the in-c-convenience,” she spluttered between tears as Madame Pomfrey gave her more Calming Draught.

“It’s no problem dear, I promise you. Sleep, child. Sleep.”

Emile didn’t leave the hospital wing until the day of the match. Lee himself came and promised Madame Pomfrey that he would personally take care of her. After she had showered and dressed in jeans and a red plaid shirt she followed Lee to the commentator box, where they were soon joined by Professor McGonagall.

““And here are the Gryffindors!” yelled Lee Jordan. “Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years —”

Lee’s comments were drowned by a tide of “boos” from the Slytherin end.

“And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He’s made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill —”

More boos from the Slytherin crowd, though Emile saw his point. Draco Malfoy was easily the smallest boy on the team, the rest of them were huge.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve around Montague — duck, Angelina, that’s a Bludger! — SHE SCORES! TEN–ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight —

“OUCH!”

Emile gasped as Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

“Sorry!” said Flint as the crowd booed. “Sorry, didn’t see her!”

A moment later, Fred Weasley chucked his Beater’s club at the back of Flint’s head. Flint’s nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

“That will do!” shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!”

“Come off it, Miss!” howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

“Come on, Alicia!” yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. “YES! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY–ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Emile looked at Oliver for a long moment, who had flown up to attempt to block Slytherins penalty shot, before turning to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

“ ’Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!” Lee Jordan told the crowd with a wink at Emile as Flint waited for Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S SAVED IT!”

“Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! — Gryffindor back in possession and it’s Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she’s streaking up the field — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!”

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cartwheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Seeker.

“THIRTY–ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —”

Professor McGonagall was on him in a heartbeat. “Jordan, if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way — !”

“I’m telling it like it is, Professor!” Lee laughed as he turned back to the game. Emile was clenching her fists so tight her knuckles were turning white.

As Harry attempted to fly across the field the Slytherin beaters came at him from either side, clubs raised. Noticing them, Harry dived with ease at the last second, causing the two to run into each other.

“Ha haaa!” yelled Lee as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. “Too bad, boys! You’ll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it’s Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angelina! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh no — Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save — !”

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

“Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won’t happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession —”

Emile was appalled by what she saw in front of her. It was possibly the most gruesome game of Quidditch she had ever witnessed.

Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Oliver pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred’s and George’s absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Emile was shaking at this point, beginning to wish she had a bit more of that Calming Draught with her.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.

“YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!” she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. “Gryffindor penalty!”

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal — seventy-ten.

All eyes were following the seekers, who could end this game at any moment. Almost aware of the eyes on him, Harry burst upward on his Firebolt, only to be dragged down as Draco caught hold of it’s tail and was desperately holding on.

“Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I’ve never seen such tactics!” Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

“YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Lee was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s reach. “YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B —”

Professor McGonagall didn’t even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy’s direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor’s penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy’s foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

“Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores —” Lee groaned. “Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor. . . . Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!”

Harry dove at the Slytherins on his Firebolt, scattering them and leaving the space clear for Angelina.

“SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to twenty!”

As Harry recovered from his dive he flew straight after Draco, who was chasing a streak of gold. As the two boys raced neck to neck it was hard to see who was in possession of the snitch, until Harry lifted his arm, the tiny golden ball in his hand.

The stadium exploded at that point. Everyone was cheering so loudly you couldn’t even hear Madame Hooche’s whistle. The Gryffindor sunk to the ground in a giant group hug before getting drowned in a sea of red and yellow.

Emile and Lee cheered into the microphone as the team was lifted by the crowd and carried off to the tower.

“Well, if your last party lasted till one in the morning I have no doubt this one will last the whole night.” Professor McGonagall smiled before heading out, no doubt going to rub it in Professor Snape’s face that they had won.

Chapter Text

It was the Sunday before OWL week. The fast two weeks of studying and stressing had left Emile in the hospital wing two more times. Lee even suggested she boil her own personal store of Calming Draught so that she wouldn’t have to keep getting more, and Emile punched him in the arm.

Oliver wasn’t really talking to her, but George had said that he constantly asked him how she was doing. After the Quidditch victory he had cried actual tears, to nobody’s surprise. Now he often strutted around the halls when he wasn’t studying alongside Percy for his NEWT’s. Emile knew that, like Fred and George, he had his future all planned and didn’t really care about exam results. He was going to play professional Quidditch, to nobody’s surprise.

“What have we got tomorrow?” Lee asked, flipping through a large pile of papers.

“Charms,” Emile replied, nervously rubbing her hands together. “Lets practice the growth charm again.”

Fred pulled out a few apple strudels he’d wiped from the dinner table and placed it in front of them. Together, they took out their wands and yelled “Engorgio!” At the strudel’s, smiling as they doubled in size.

“Snack break,” George sang as he took a bite of his strudel, grinning.

“I’ll eat once I’ve managed to complete each of these charms,” Emile huffed, concentrating on the levitation charm. She made her strudel fly around the common room before landing in front of her.

“I’ll do some transfiguration too,” she grinned, vanishing George’s strudel as he was about to take another bite. Whoever said studying had to be boring?

The following morning, the fifth years ate breakfast in a solemn nervous huddle. Emile was quietly muttering charms between each bit of food, Angelina turned George’s milk blue.

“Why do you guys do this to me?” He complained, changing his milk back.

“Because we love you,” Emile said, putting her arm around him.

After a written exam in which Emile nearly forgot the counter charm for hiccups, it was time for the practical exam. Emile was standing next to Lee in the testing room, and they had to perform cheering charms on each other. Emile’s was a bit too strong, and she had to help Lee exit the testing room, laughing.

“I’m so screwed,” Emile sighed as she sat down in the common room with Lee.

“Everythings going to be all right.” Lee smiled up at her.

By the time the ancient runes OWL was over on Friday, Emile was on the verge of another breakdown.

“I’m going to fail the potions exam,” she said as they sat around the fireplace saturday evening.

“Emile out of all the people here, you’re most likely to pass the exam,” George tried to comfort her.

She sighed and put her head on his shoulder. “Quiz me.”

“Name the ingredients in Polyjuice Potion.”
“Lacewing flies, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, fluxweed picked on the full moon, shredded boomslang skin and a bit of whoever you plan to turn into.”

George laughed at put his arm around her shoulders. “See? No one else here could name that off the top of your head. You need to relax.”

“I try,” Emile sighed, sitting up and opening up the astronomy charts.

Monday’s Potions OWL went quickly, Emile was first in the class to complete it. She didn’t do too well in Care of Magical Creatures though. She couldn’t identify the knarl among a dozen hedgehogs and sustained a serious burn from the firecrabs. When she went to visit Madame Pomfrey the nurse gave her another dose of Calming Draught for her nerves.

“Do you get this stressed every year?” The nurse asked as she took Emile’s pulse.

“Yes, I usually do.” Emile sighed.

“And you’ve never thought to come to me before this?” Madame Pomfrey shook her head.

Emile left the hospital wing with a vial of Calming Draught in case of emergencies, and Madame Pomfrey told her to check back with her once exams were over.

The only exams Emile had left were in Divination, Astrology, and History of Magic. Divination was a bit hassled, Emile really didn’t care about the Professor who kept telling her cousin he was going to die. Astrology was easy now, thanks to Lee, so Emile did it with moderate ease. Leaving her History of Magic OWL she was pretty sure she forgot to mention the Goblin riots in her Essay.

“All we can do now is wait,” she said to Lee as they toasted to the end of the exams at dinner.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he said as Emile chewed through a bite of ham. “You’ll definitely pass the ones you need to.”

Friday morning at breakfast a horrible rumor was going throughout the castle.

“A werewolf!” George exclaimed, jaw dropping. “How could Professor Lupin be a Werewolf?”

“It makes sense, the sick days and everything.” Emile shrugged and took a bite of sausage.

“But still,” Fred argued. “A whole school year and no one realized.”

“He quit this morning.” Lee chewed on some eggs as he spoke. “Poor bloke’s probably scared of being told off by parents.”

They got their exam results back at the end of the week. Hands shaking, Emile opened the official looking envelope.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades    Fail Grades

Outstanding (O) Poor (P)

Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)

Acceptable (A) Troll (T)

Emile Victoria Gorska has achieved:

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: A

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: E

Divination: P

Herbology: A

History of Magic: A

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

Emile couldn’t believe her eyes. Three O’s, she’d gotten three O’s

“Three O’s!” Someone shouted. Lee was looking at her paper excitedly. “You’re better than the average student!”

“I can’t believe it!” Emile laughed and hugged Lee, jumping up and down.

“Emile!” Angelina ran up to her excitedly, showing off her paper. “I got an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts! I thought i’d failed that one!”
“That’s what I thought about Potions!” Emile laughed and they jumped up and down excitedly.

Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each. Gryffindor House meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated.

Soon the trunks were being packed and the walls were bare. The loft beds were deconstructed and replaced with the four poster beds. The common room was emptied and the goodbyes were being said.

On the train back, Emile sat with Angelina, Fred, George, and Lee.

“I’ll be seeing you at the Quidditch World Cup, right?” Emile smiled at the twins hopefully.

“We’ll have to get back to you about that,” George grimaced as he looked over at Fred.

“I’m sure our dad will find us tickets,” Fred shrugged as they exited the train.

Emile hugged the two of them tightly.

“You’d better write this summer.”

“Like you’d let us forget,” George teased as she let go and headed over to where Uncle Amos was waiting with her trunk.

Chapter Text

Emile stood in the entrance hall, impatiently tapping her foot. Today was a big day.

It was June 30th, a normal summer day like any other. The sky was blue with a few clouds lazily floating across. The horses were grazing in the pastures and Mrs. Diggory was having her mid-morning tea, accompanied by some Ministry bigshot and his wife. But that wasn’t important.

Today, for the first time in many years, Emile was finally having friends over. Fred and George Weasley were coming for the weekend, Friday and Saturday night, and Emile had plans for them.

At that moment the fire in the fireplace turned green and a familiar redhead emerged from it, coughing.

“Hi there, Em,” George smiled as he walked over to her in jeans and a t-shirt, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

A moment later Fred appeared, in similar getup, but he was covered in soot.

“You’re not supposed to move around during trips by Floo Powder,” Emile scolded as he shook his head, black dusk falling from his hair.

“Yeah I realized. This shirt was originally white.”

After the two of them had gotten settled and Emile showed them around the house, it was time to meet Nepeta. They crossed the backyard over to the pasture fence, which Emile climbed over. Once she was on the other side, she let out a whistle and turned to watch the twins as her horse trotted over.

“Blimey,” George stared at Nepeta, jaw dropped.

“It looks even better in person,” Fred said as he stood up on the railing of the fence, leaning over slightly.

“She’s not an it, she’s a who,” Emile cooed as she stroked Nepeta’s velvety nose.

She quickly fetched a few lead ropes from the barn, fetching Mr. Diggory’s horse, Meeko, and one of the carriage pulling horses, Jack, before tying up Nepeta.

“You two have been on horses before, right?” She said as she turned to the twins.

“Oh course,” Fred rolled his eyes and approached Meeko, petting the horses side as he did so.

“I had to ask, Lee didn’t know anything about horses,” Emile said as George pet Jack. “Come on then, untie the ropes and we can go get them saddled up.”

Once the horses had been brushed and the polished saddles put onto them, the trio set out across the yard and into the woods.

“You do this often, right?” Fred called a bit nervously after they had been in the woods for not even five minutes.

“Is someone scared of the forest?” Emile teased as George laughed and threw a pinecone at his brother.

Soon the group reached the meadow by the lake, which the twins gawked at. Emile let the horses graze as the three of them ate a small lunch she had packed.

“Did you two bring your swim trunks?” She asked as she finished a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Yes but we aren’t exactly wearing them,” Fred winked at Emile. “Would you like us to change right here, right now?”

Emile rolled her eyes and punched Fred in the shoulder. “I’ve got a place for you two to change in private, don’t worry.”

“Who said I was worried,” he said innocently, his laughter turning into complaints as both Emile and George punched him in the side.

A few minutes of riding later, they approached the treehouse by the river. Emile dismounted Nepeta and tied her to one of the branches of the Cedar tree the treehouse was in.

“Come on,” she called to the boys, who were having difficulty dismounting.

“You know this isn’t as easy as it looks,” George complained a moment before he succeeded in swinging his leg over the horse.

Emile climbed the ladder up into the treehouse, the twins following.

“Blimey Em,” Fred said as he climbed up, jaw dropping. “You built a livable tree house by yourself?”

“Darren helped,” she said as she unpacked her pack.

“Where is the famous stable boy?” George asked as Emile tossed them each a sleeping bag and pillow.

“On vacation to Italy to visit his ailing grandmother.”

The trio spent the rest of the evening setting up camp inside the treehouse and playing in the river. The twins gawked at the nature formed water slides until Emile pulled George onto one, slipping in herself and sliding down on his lap, screaming.

Afterwards the twins built themselves a fort out of sticks and logs while Emile sat on a rock and doodled in her sketchbook. Once the two finished the main structure, they disappeared inside. After an unusually long silence, Emile walked over and stuck her head in. They had stopped working on the wall and were now digging inside, making the fort larger.

“You guys want to eat dinner soon?” She said as she climbed into the fort.

“Depends on what’s for dinner,” George said with a grin.

“Sausages roasted over a campfire, and s'mores.”

“Oh yes, definitely!” Fred said enthusiastically.

“Great, I’ll gather firewood,” Emile said as she left the twins in their fort and went about setting up dinner.

Once she had gathered enough firewood and made a fire pit, Emile climbed into the treehouse and changed out of her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt. After she had climbed back down she got to work unsaddling the horses and letting them loose in a small pasture she had roped off among the tree’s.

The twins soon joined her by a steadily growing fire, dripping wet.

“We thought-t we ought to w-wash off the dirt,” Fred said through chattering teeth.

“You’re both so stupid, go change,” Emile shoved the two of them towards the tree house, smiling as they climbed up and waved from the window.

Soon the three of them were eating sausage and making toast over a warm fire. The sky was growing dark and Emile showed off her well earned O in Astrology by pointing out the constellations in the sky.

“There’s Orion!” She said excitedly, pointing above one of the tree’s at the familiar constellation. “You can tell by the three stars making up the belt, thats its most noticeable trait.”

“Blimey Em, we get it. You got an O in Astrology.” With a grin Fred rolled his eyes at George and took a bite out of his s’more.

“Well at least I got an O,” Emile laughed.

“Don’t be rude,” he mumbled around his mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate.

“We get enough of that from our mother,” George rolled his eyes at Emile as he grabbed a marshmallow to toast.

Emile smiled and leaned back, breathing in the cool night air. Little did she know this would be the last normal night she spent with her friends in a long time.

Chapter Text

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Mr. Diggory’s shots woke Emile from where she was dozing beneath the tree atop a hill. They were on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Cedric had woken her up very early that morning and the three of them had hiked out to where the portkey to the cup sat. The Weasley’s were set to join them at this portkey, much to Emile’s delight.

“Amos!” said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the group.

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” said Mr. Weasley after a moment, turning to the group of kids next to him. “He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric,?”

“Nice to see you too, Mr. Weasley,” Emile grinned as walked over to the twins, who were grouchy and asleep on their feet. Bill was there, as was another redhead who had to be Charlie.

Hi,” said Cedric, looking around at them all.

“Long walk, Arthur?” Uncle Amos  asked.

“Not too bad,” said Mr. Weasley. “We live just on the other side of the village there. You?”

“Had to get up at two, didn’t we, Ced? I tell you, I’ll be glad when he’s got his Apparition test. Still . . . not complaining . . . Quidditch World Cup, wouldn’t miss it for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy. . . .”

Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. “All these yours, Arthur?”

“Oh no, only the redheads,” said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. “This is Hermione, friend of Ron’s — and Harry, another friend —”

“Merlin’s beard,” said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. “Harry? Harry Potter?”

“Er — yeah,” said Harry a bit awkwardly.

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” said Amos Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. . . . You beat Harry Potter!”

Fred and George scowled next to Emile, who hadn’t warned them about the fierce pride Mr. Diggory had for his son.

Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told you . . . it was an accident. . . .”

“Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!”

“You must be Charlie, I’m Emile,” she said to the older redhead, attempting to forget the conversation behind her.

“Nice to meet you Emile,” he smiled and shook her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from the twins.”

“Don’t flatter her,” George mumbled next to her.

“It’ll inflate her ego even more,” Fred said through a yawn that turned to a groan as Emile elbowed him in the gut.

“Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. “Do you know whether we’re waiting for any more, Amos?”

“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn’t get tickets,” said Mr. Diggory.

“There aren’t any more of us in this area, are there?”

“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Weasley. “Yes, it’s a minute off. . . . We’d better get ready... You just need to touch the Portkey, that’s all, a finger will do —”

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

“Three . . .” muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, “two . . . one . . .”

A sudden jerk and swooping sensation surrounded Emile as she felt herself being pulled through the air, holding her breath until her feet slammed onto solid ground again. She clutched onto George’s arm for support as a voice sounded behind them.

“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,”

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

“Morning, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him.

“Hello there, Arthur,” said Basil wearily. “Not on duty, eh? It’s all right for some. . . . We’ve been here all night. . . . You’d better get out of the way, we’ve got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I’ll find your campsite. . . . Weasley . . . � Weasley . . .” He consulted his parchment list. “About a quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager’s called Mr. Roberts. Diggory . . . second field . . . ask for Mr. Payne.”

“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned his group to follow him.

“Will I see you guys later?”Emile said to the twins, who shrugged in response.

“It’s a huge place, Em,” Fred said with a yawn.

“Maybe we can get a message through to you,” George said with a wave as the Weasley group split off from them, walking off to talk to the manager of their field.

Mr. Diggory had gotten them a rather luxurious tent near the water tap. It looked just like any old muggle tent on the outside, but on the inside there were three separate bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room, kitchen, and dining room.

Emile claimed the bedroom on the left side of the tent, unpacking her favorite pillow and putting it among the ones already on the bed. Then she took out her clothes and hung them in the closet and lit a scented candle on the nightstand, making the space seem a bit more homey.

“Cedric my boy,” Uncle Diggory’s booming voice sounded in the sitting room outside. “Go fetch us some water from the tap, we’ve got to make sure the muggles don’t suspect anything fishy.”

After a small silence he turned to Emile, as if he just remembered that she was there too.

“Why don’t you go off into those nearby woods and gather up some firewood for a campfire?”

Emile obliged with a nod and walked out of the tent, admiring all the ones she passed on the way there. The Irish had overgrown their area with shamrocks, making their tents no more than holes in hillsides. And the Bulgarian’s had themselves a large wizard photo of Victor Krum, stone faced and silent.

“Emile?” She heard a familiar voice behind her.

Emile tried not to groan as she turned around, forcing a smile. “Hello, Oliver. How have you been?”

“Pretty good, actually. I’ve just been signed on for the Puddlemere United reserve team,” he beamed, puffing out his chest.

“That’s great, I’m very happy for you.” They stared at each other awkwardly.

“I, uh,” Oliver coughed before continuing,”I see you’re still wearing my bracelet.”

The silver charm of the Nimbus 2000 stood out on Emile’s wrist among the other woven bands and leather straps in her bracelet collection.

“Of course I’m wearing it,” she said a bit quietly, fingering the charms around her wrist. “The bracelets around my wrists are all from people who have been important to me at some point in my life.”

As Oliver opened his mouth to respond, a familiar heavy browed Bulgarian walked up to them and kissed Emile’s hand.

“Vlovely to see you again, Emile,” Victor Krum said, smiling at the two of them.

Oliver’s jaw dropped as he looked from Emile to the famed seeker and back to Emile again.

“Likewise, Victor.” Emile grinned, thankful for the interruption. “This is an old friend of mine, Oliver Wood. He was just signed onto the Puddlemere United reserve team.”

“Ah, another Quidditch player. I hope to play you in the future.” Victor bowed to Oliver, who was struggling to contain his excitement.

“I should really be off collecting firewood,” Emile backed away from the two of them and speed walked away towards the woods, turning around once to see Oliver talking very fast and and making jerky hand motions as Victor nodded. She smiled and began to search for wood to take back to the tent.

As evening fell, Emile found herself walking alongside Cedric around the campsite, looking at all the merchandise the vendors were selling. She bought a pair of Omnioculars and a Bulgarian scarf with a roaring lion on it.

“I thought you support Ireland!” Cedric said indignantly as she replaced her Gryffindor scarf around her neck with the Bulgarian one.

“I do, but I don’t see any scarves from Ireland and It feels weird to be walking around in a school scarf.” Emile replaced the scarf around her neck, shivering at the momentary exposure to the evening wind.

Soon a horn sounded, drawing everyone towards the field. Emile couldn’t believe the size of the Quidditch field. From the outside it looked huge, but when they got to their seats you could see that five cathedrals could fit inside the stadium with room to spare. They were sitting in the top box alongside Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge, the minister of Magic.

Ludo Bagman whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said “Sonorus!” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

A team of Veela, enchanting women with white blonde hair much like that of the Malfoys, came out and began dancing. Emile rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat as members of the male gender all around became entranced by their mystical dancing.

Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn’t want the veela to go. Next to Emile Cedric had his hand over his heart and had stopped breathing.

“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. The giant shamrock was made of tiny little leprechauns who showered the crowd in gold.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova!” A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!”

Emile cheered with the rest of the crowd as her friend flew out of formation, pumping his fis in the air.

“And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!” yelled Bagman. “Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!”

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Through the Omnioculars, Emile watched closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open — four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!”

Cedric was yelling next to her, his face digging into his Omnioculars.

“TROY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten zero to Ireland!”

The Irish team was the dream team on the field today. They worked together flawlessly, leaving the veela on the right side of the field flipping their hair as they tried to act as if they didn’t care. As the match became more brutal the Veela’s resumed their dancing. At first they danced just when Bulgaria scored, but when Ireland received a penalty they didn’t stop.

Emile found herself laughing as the referee flew down to the veela and flexed his muscles as he watched them. One of them giggled and winked, causing him to smooth his mustache.

“Now, we can’t have that!” said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. “Somebody slap the referee!”

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

“And unless I’m much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!” said Bagman’s voice. “Now there’s something we haven’t seen before. . . . Oh this could turn nasty. . . .”

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words “HEE, HEE, HEE.”

Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians’ arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

“Two penalties for Ireland!” shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. “And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms . . . yes . . . there they go . . . and Troy takes the Quaffle . . .”

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Foul!” roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

“Foul!” echoed Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice. “Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to collide there — and it’s got to be another penalty — yes, there’s the whistle!”

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns.

“Wow, what a woman,” Cedric said next to her as he stared at the Veela, a dazed expression on his face.

At that moment their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders. Cedric fell out of his seat in fright and Emile laughed out loud before helping him back up.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above.

“Levski — Dimitrov — Moran — Troy — Mullet — Ivanova — Moran again — Moran — MORAN SCORES!”

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members’ wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov — The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum’s nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn’t blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Emile couldn’t blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

“I hope he’s alright,” Emile fret as Krum fly by, blood streaming from his nose.

“Time-out! Ah, come on, he can’t play like that, look at him —”

“Look at Lynch!” Uncle Amos yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Emile was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing. . . .

“He’s seen the Snitch!” Cedric shouted. “He’s seen it! Look at him go!”

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on . . . but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again.

For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

“He’s got the snitch! He’s got the snitch!” Emile screamed next to Cedric, jumping up and down.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.� “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

Emile put her Omnioculars to her eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but she could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

“Vell, ve fought bravely,” said a gloomy voice in front of Emile. She looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

“You can speak English!” said Fudge, sounding outraged. “And you’ve been letting me mime everything all day!”

“Vell, it vos very funny,” said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!” roared Bagman.

The Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, two panting wizards came carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he’d been using sign language all day for nothing.

“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch.

“Are you alright?” Emile said as he sat down behind her, wincing.

At that moment his name was announced and a deafening roar from the crowd blocked out his response. Emile gave a small smile and turned around.

Then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned � happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly’s, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, “Quietus.”

“They’ll be talking about this one for years,” he said hoarsely, “a really unexpected twist, that. . . . shame it couldn’t have lasted longer. . . . Ah yes. . . . yes, I owe you . . . how much?”

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

“Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley called from where he was sitting with Bill and Charlie.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns.

Emile got permission from Uncle Amos to go visit the Weasley’s in their tent, and joined them for a cup of hot cocoa.  They were soon �chatting enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Emile followed Hermione and Ginny into their girls tent. Once Ginny was tucked into bed she talked with Hermione about the OWL’s for another half hour until Hermione said she was too tired to continue. Emile went over to the boys tent and talked with Bill and Charlie for a bit.

“Any particular reason you don’t want to go back to your tent?” Charlie asked with a grin.

“I’m not too excited to walk past all of the drunk Irish supporters celebrating,” Emile said with a shrug. “I’m not a large fan of drunk people.”

Charlie opened his mouth to respond as loud screams came from outside, followed by a stampede of feet. Mr. Weasley ran out of the tent as Bill let out a laugh.

“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on,” Bill smiled as Mr. Weasley ran over to them, gasping.

“That’s not the Irish.You guys have to go.” Mr. Weasley drew his wand and ran over to the rooms. “Charlie, go outside and help. Bill, wake the twins. Emile, go get the girls.”

Emile nodded and ran to the next door tent, momentarily passing through the chaos outside and running into the girls tent.

“Wake up, wake up you two! Can’t you hear the screams?!” She yelled as she shook the girls awake. Once they two of them had pulled on shoes and a jacket, they ran back to the boys tent, wands drawn. Emile nearly ran into the twins outside, and the group joined together.

“We’re supposed to get back to the portkey!” Fred yelled, grabbing Ginny’s hand and pulling her into the crowd.

George copied his brother and grabbed Emile, the two of them squeezing each other as they followed Fred through the crowd. Emile thought she caught a glimpse of Percy and Charlie at one point but there was too much going on to be sure.

It was chaos. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field, their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice one of the marchers blasted a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Emile recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

“Don’t look at them Emile, just run!” George yelled, pulling her along with the crowd.

At that moment a tent next to them was struck by a fiery blast, sending the two of them flying through the air. George flew one way and Emile the other, the burning tent between them. As Emile struggled to get up amongst the running crowd, she was vaguely aware of George calling her name in the distance. Before she could get up a boot hit her on the back and pinned her to the ground, facedown in the dirt.

“Say hello to your mother for me,” a rough voice growled into her ear.

Emile opened her mouth into a silent scream as her world caught on fire before turning black.

Chapter Text

It was very cold. That was the first thought Emile registered when she awoke. She didn't open her eyes yet, but she was aware of being awake. She was aware of the paper thin sheets against her nude body as she hesitantly moved her fingers. She was aware of her ears registering the crackling noise the paper sheets made.

Slowly Emile wiggled her fingers and toes, glad to be able to move again. She forced one of her eyes open, then the other. In front of her was a wooden door. The walls in the room were white. Emile immediately recognized her surroundings as those of St. Mungo's hospital.

Emile panicked and attempted to sit up in bed as a tired looking nurse entered the room, reading off her clipboard. She gasped as she caught sight of Emile, sitting up in the hospital bed in nothing but a paper gown.

"She's awake," the nurse whispered, dropping her clipboard.

"She's awake!" The nurse yelled, running out of the room.

A moment later a group of healers ran into the room, wands drawn and bottles in hand.

Emile was immediately bombarded with questions, and to be honest she didn't completely understand what was going on until a senior healer came in and chased the others out.

"I suspect you don't understand much of what's going on at the moment," he said in a gentle voice as a nurse began to check Emile's vitals.

"The last thing I remember is running from the death eaters at the world cup with George and Fred."

A sudden pain in her head caused Emile to gasp and put her hand over her forehead. The nurse quickly got to work adjusting something on Emile's neck she hadn't noticed until now. When she was finished Emile leaned back as the nurse adjusted the bed so that she could sit up.

"Let's start with the basics," the healer said kindly as the nurse left the room. "What is your name?"

"Emile Victoria Gorska."

"Where do you live?"

"The Diggory manor."

"Who are your parents?"

"Piotr Gorski and Alice Longbottom."

With a nod the healer scribbled something on a clipboard without looking at Emile.

"So what exactly happened?" She asked after a moment.

"Well, at the death eater rally you were struck on the back with Fiendfyre, the cursed fire, resulting in damage to your back and neck. We have cleared up a majority of the scarring, but we are afraid your hair won't grow back the way it once was."

Emile started at the healer, trying to take in this information. The only thought forming in her mind was 'I need to get a haircut.'

That afternoon, Mrs. Diggory came by and released her from the hospital. The first thing they did after leaving the hospital was go to Diagon Alley to a wizarding hair salon so that Emile could get her hair taken care of. The messy waterfall of dirty blonde was now charred to uneven lengths around her neck.

Two hours later Emile was sitting outside a tea shop in a turtleneck sweater listening to Mrs. Diggory ramble about how much better her hair looked now. It was a fiery shade of auburn and ended just below her chin, the poofy layers and side bangs framing her face.

It was September 1st, and Emile was going to travel to Hogwarts by floo powder that evening. When they returned to the manor Emile found her books sitting on her bed. Cedric had bought them for her when he had gone to Diagon Alley a week ago, according to Mrs. Diggory.

After a much needed shower and a rushed packing of items Emile was in her robes by the fire, a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck to hide the scars.

When the clock struck six she grasped a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, walking through with her trunk and Carrots cage after yelling “Hogwarts!”

She spun out of a fireplace in the familiar great hall, nearly stumbling into a familiar professor.

“Lily?” Professor Snape gasped as Emile’s glasses fell off of her face.

“Pardon?” She said, picking them up and wiping them off on her scarf.

“Oh, Miss Gorska. May I inquire as to why you did not take the train to school?”

Emile frowned at the professor as she picked up her trunk again. “I wasn’t on the train because I was released from St. Mungo’s an hour after it departed.”

“Is that why you have changed your hair, Miss Gorska?”

“Now that’s a bit personal, wouldn’t you say so Professor Snape?” Emile tried to tease as she put the trunk down outside the hall, breathing heavily.

“I simply wish to know if any problems with your health will prevent you from attending my classes this year. I saw that you are taking NEWT level Potions.” Professor Snape took out his wand and pointed it at her trunk and Carrot’s cage, levitating both. “You may go sit down at the Gryffindor table, I believe your classmates should be here momentarily.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Emile smiled at the Potions master before walking back into the great hall and sitting at the Gryffindor table. Soon people were flooding into the great hall, Cedric among the first.

“Em!” He called, rushing over and giving her a hug before pinning something onto her robes. It was her Prefect badge. “You look great, I’m glad you’re alright,” he said with a grin before patting her on the shoulder and heading over to the Hufflepuff table.

A moment later, Fred and George walked in with Lee and Angelina, the group of them whispering amongst themselves. Emile immediately stood up and ran over to the group, throwing her arms around the lot of them.

“Excuse me but who are-” George broke off and stared at her, a shocked look on his face. “Emile?”

“Emile!” Angelina yelled, hugging her back.

Soon everyone was hugging her and they walked over to the table, tears in Emile’s eyes. She self consciously wiped them away as she sat down between Angelina and George, a smile on her face.

“I don’t say this to many girls Em, but damn!” Fred laughed across from her. “You look great!”

“What happened to you?” George asked, still looking concerned. “I lost you in the crowd and you didn’t respond to any of our letters-”

“Your letters,” Fred interrupted with a grin. “Not that I wasn’t concerned, George is just better at writing.”

“Shut it, Fred.” George said, a small smile on his face.

“Well, I woke up just this morning at St. Mungo’s-” Emile was interrupted by all four of her friends as they each began asking questions.

“Shut up!” She yelled, putting her hand over George’s mouth, a small smile on her face. “I bet that if you listened a moment longer your question would be answered.”

“Anyway’s, I woke up at St. Mungo’s just this morning. At the world cup something happened and I got in the way of some FIendfyre. It burned a lot of my hair off and I had to get it magically altered. And I’ve also got some pretty bad scars on my neck now, unfortunately. But I got a potion that should help them fade in a month or so.”

Emile paused and looked around the group. “Any questions?”

“No that’s a pretty decent explanation.” Fred grinned.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” George said next to her as Angelina nodded. “I probably wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you had died that night.”

“Aw, George,” Emile smiled and put her head on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Your hair is so soft now,” Angelina gushed as she pet Emile’s head, causing Lee to laugh for the first time.

“I’m glad you’re alright Em, I don’t think I could have done a good job of showing the first year’s to the common room.”

After a delicious feast of mashed potatoes, ham, and chocolate gateau, Dumbledore stood up to give his speech.

“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.”

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.” The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched.

He continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. “It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

Gasps and mutters sounded from each of the house tables as Dumbledore made this comment. Fred and George were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, too appalled to speak.

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —”

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teacher’s table.

The strange man's face looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing.

But it was the man’s eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was mov� ing ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man’s head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Emile couldn’t hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg could be seen, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . .”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“Er — but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . .” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I� hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

“Death toll?” Angelina muttered nervously next to Emile, who shrugged. She hadn’t heard of the tournament before.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.”

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for� the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

“I’m going for it!” Fred hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches.

Emile wasn’t so sure. What use was all that money if you were dead?

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This” — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.”

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred’s and George’s mutinous faces. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

“They can’t do that!” said George , who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. “We’re seventeen in April, why can’t we have a shot?”

“They’re not stopping me entering,” said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. “The champions’ll get to do all sorts of stuff you’d never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!”

Before Emile could lecture them, Lee tugged at her arm and pulled her over to a scared looking group of first years.

“Right,” she said aloud, standing in front of them. “Come on you lot, I’ll show you the most direct route to the common room. My name is Emile, and this is Lee. Feel free to come to us with any questions you have.”

“Are you going to enter in the competition?” A young boy who looked an awful lot like Colin Creevey asked as they left the great hall.

“Do I look like I want to die an early death?” Emile asked with a smile. “No thank you. I’ve already got a bunch of money saved up for when I leave, I don’t need more.”

“But imagine the fame!” The kid argued as they approached the moving staircases.

“All I can imagine is a streak of publicity that ends in a month,” Emile said, causing Lee to laugh next to her.

“Balderdash,” he said to the fat lady as they approached, the portrait door swinging open.

The two prefects grinned at each other as the first years gasped in astonishment at the common room.

“Boys on the left, girls on the right!” Emile called out, leading the girls up to their dormitories before heading back down to the common room.

“George!” She yelled as she spotted him by the fire with his brother.

“Hey Em. Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong? My best friends are trying to get themselves killed, for starters.”

Fred laughed as she spoke, rolling his eyes. “You don’t actually believe the death toll thing, do you? That’s something Dumbledore made up to scare us.”

“How could you be so stupid?” Emile could feel her eyes getting hot, and she gave them a self conscious swipe with her sleeve.

“Em?” George said, but was interrupted by his brother.

“Stupid are we? Well, I’m sorry we weren’t all raised on fancy manors with galleons in our pockets to spare.” Fred was getting defensive, and Emile didn’t want to get into a fight but something snapped.

“You don’t know anything about me, Fred Weasley.” A few tears slid down her face, and she bit her lip nervously.

“Yeah, because you don’t trust us enough to tell us anything.” Fred crossed his arms and turned away from her, walking towards the boys dormitory.

Emile sat down on the ground by the fire and wiped her face with her scarf. After a moment, George sat down next to her.

“I just don’t want anyone else I care about to leave me,” she whispered as George put his arm around her and she put her head on his shoulder.

“We would understand if you told us.” He said quietly after a moment.

“What is there to understand? My mother’s gone, my fathers in prison, my grandparents are dead and the rest of my extended family is scattered all over the globe. I don’t have anyone.”

As soon as the words came out Emile put her hands over her mouth and stood up, leaving common room. She went through the castle to Madame Pomfrey, who gave her a small teaspoon of Calming Draught mixed into a cup of warm milk and honey as she applied the special potion to her scarred neck.

“Fiendfyre, huh? You are one lucky gal to get away with just a scarred neck and a haircut.” She rambled as Emile felt herself dozing off.

Once the potion had been applied and a fresh bandage wrapped around her neck for the night Madame Pomfrey escorted Emile back to the now empty Gryffindor common room. Emile headed up to her dormitory to find that her bed, this time in the corner, had already been reconstructed into a loft bed. With an exhausted promise to unpack tomorrow Emile hastily put on pajamas and slid underneath the warm quilts, feeling relieved when sleep finally overcame her.

The next morning at breakfast, Emile sat by Angelina, ignoring the hovering presence of Fred and George Weasley as she nervously rambled to her roommate about the NEWT courses. Emile was taking Potions, Astrology, History of Magic, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Did you see that we needed dress robes this year for school?” Angelina said through a mouthful of egg.

“No, I didn’t,” Emile stared at her roommate. “I guess I’ll need to get some at Hogsmeade.”

“That’s what I was planning to do! We can go together, it’ll be so much fun!” Angelina squealed.

“So it’s a date?” Emile asked with a smile.

“It’s a date,” Angelina greed and the two girls high fived.

Just then a particularly loud comment about methods one can magically age himself caught Emile’s attention. She turned to see Fred, George and Lee sitting a few people down, and Fred was staring right at her.

“I have to go,” she said hurriedly to Angelina, wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck as she walked out of the great hall to the potions room for her first lesson.

After two engaging lessons of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Emile headed down to lunch. As she passed the courtyard a rather odd sight of Mad Eye Moody bouncing a ferret in the air while Crabbe and Goyle stared caught her attention. She approached the little scene at the same time as a distressed Professor McGonogall.

“Professor Moody!” She said in a shocked voice.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.

“Teaching,” said Moody.

“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody.

“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a good sharp shock —”

“We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

“I’ll do that, then,” said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike. Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words “my father” were distinguishable.

“Oh yeah?” said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. “Well, I know your father of old, boy. . . . You tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, will it?”

“Yes,” said Malfoy resentfully.

“Another old friend,” growled Moody. “I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. . . . Come on, you. . . .” And he seized Malfoy’s upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

Emile followed the large crowd who had stopped to watch the scene into the great hall, pausing at the entrance as she caught sight of the twins and Lee with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

She turned around and headed to the library, suddenly not feeling all that hungry.

That Thursday, Emile was heading up to ask Professor Moody a question on his assignment when she ran into Neville, who was heading down from the room with a vacant expression and a book under his arm.

“Good day Emile!” He called as she drew nearer.

“Hello Neville, what are you doing here so late? Hasn’t your class been over for a while?” Emile paused on the steps for a moment, leaning against the railing to catch her breath.

“Yeah, but Moody kept me after. We were learning about the Unforgivable Curses and he wanted to make sure I was alright after seeing the Cruciatus Curse, considering what it did to my-” his ears turned red and he dropped his book, fumbling for words.

“Considering what the curse did to your mother,” Emile finished quietly as he picked up his book, his entire face red now.

“How do you know about that?” He whispered angrily.

“My Un- um well I know Cedric’s parent’s well, I’ve lived with them for years. I’ve heard Mr. Diggory talk about what happened to his sister.” Emile congratulated herself on another convincing lie, grumbling on the inside.

“That makes sense,” he said quietly, letting out a sigh.”I’m proud to be their son, they endured so much pain and survived, but i’m not ready to everyone about that yet.”

Emile smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

With a grateful smile, Neville headed down the stairs and Emile continued up to Professor Moody’s room, not very surprised to find him waiting by the door.

“Alright there Emile?” He grunted as he held the door open for her before hobbling in himself.

“Yes Professor, I just had a question about the assignment you gave.” Emile pulled out a quill and a roll of parchment from her bookbag, unrolling it eagerly. “I was wondering if you would consider this an acceptable definition of the Cruciatus Curse?”

Professor Moody barely looked over the paper before giving her a look.

“Miss Gorska, I think we both know you can write more on the Cruciatus Curse. You aren’t your half brother.”

“How did you-”

“An old man like me, obviously I knew your mother. We had something of a history.” Mad Eye’s eye spun in his socket as he spoke, making Emile nervous.

“I heard about what happened at the World Cup, Fiendfyre eh? What do you remember about your assailant?”

“Why do you want to know?” Emile frowned as she rolled her parchment back up.

“I’ve caught a mess of dark wizards in my day Miss Gorska. I was just curious if this particular person may have been an, an old friend of mine.”

Emile swallowed nervously. “To tell you the truth I can’t remember anything about them, or what happened. The last thing I remember is running away with George and after that I -agh!” Emil grabbed her neck with both hands as a hot current ran through her scars.

“Perhaps you ought to go to Madame Pomfrey,” Mad Eye suggested after a moment, handing Emile her bookbag.

That’s exactly what she did.

Chapter Text

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

Emile read the notice over once more, taking it in. She didn’t have any classes on Friday’s so it didn’t really apply to her, but she had to be sure to be outside of the school on time.

“Em!” Lee called as he ran over to her. “I see you saw the notice, what do you reckon the other schools are like?”

“Like us but with accents,” Emile smiled as she sat down on one of the common room sofas. “Honestly Lee, I don’t think there will be too much to worry about. I heard Professor McGonagall talking about it this morning at Breakfast, and it looks like whatever method of transportation they are using to get here will also be where they sleep.”

“I bet the french girls are attractive,” Lee said dreamily as he sat down across from her. She threw a pillow at him.

“Lee!” The twins ran over and sat down next to him.

“Did you see the board?” Fred asked excitedly, ignoring Emile.

With a sigh she stood up from the sofa and left the common room, on her way to Madame Pomfrey’s for her last application of the potion.

“Emile!” George called after her as she left.

As she reached the moving staircases she felt someone grab her arm. Fred was standing there, gasping for breath.

“You, walk, fast.” He wheezed, hanging onto her arm.

“What do you want, Fred?” Emile frowned at him as he let go, self consciously tucking her bangs behind her ear.

“I- um.” The redhead tugged at the collar around his throat. “I just wanted to apologize for being rude and ignoring you. George told us what you said afterwards, and I understand why you’re concerned.”

“I just don’t want anyone else to leave,” she said quietly. “It’s stupid, because people always leave.”

“Come here you big lump.” Fred drew her in for a hug, and she hugged him back.

“I’ve got to Madame Pomfrey,” Emile said as he let go. “See you in the common room?”

“Sure, you can help us attempt to blackmail a certain git who owes us money.”

Everyone and everything was feeling the excitement building in the castle. The castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teacher’s table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Emile, Fred, and George at the Gryffindor table.

“It’s a bummer, all right,” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.”

“Who’s avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down next to them.

“Wish you would,” said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George.

“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George.

“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?” Harry asked, much to the disapproval of Emile.

“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn’t telling,” said George bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon.”

“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We’ve done dangerous stuff before. . . .”

“Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven’t,” said Fred. “McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they’ve done the tasks.”

“Who are the judges?” Harry asked.

“Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel,” said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, “because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage.”

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that friday. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

When the bell rang Emile left the library with Lee and went down to the entrance hall.The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

“Weasley, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair.”

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

“Follow me, please,” said Professor McGonagall. “First years in front . . . no pushing. . . .”

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Emile shivered slightly as a cold breeze blew around her.

“How are you cold?” George whispered into her ear. “You’re wearing a sweater and a scarf under your robe!”

“George, you should know by now that I’m a cold blooded creature,” Emile whispered back a moment before she received a smoldering look from Professor Snape.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“There!” yelled Emile, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

“Don’t be stupid . . . it’s a flying house!” Said another.

His guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed — then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year’s foot, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Out of the carriage stepped the largest woman Emile had ever seen.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers. Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.They were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

“ ’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ’orses —”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges.”

“My steeds require — er — forceful ’andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong. . . .”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing.

“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

“Some of those french boys were quiet the eye candy,” Angelina whispered to Emile, who let out a laugh.

“Oh please, I’m all the eye candy you need,” Fred said, posing ridiculously.

The girls laughter was interrupted by a low rumble.

“The lake!” yelled Lee, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor. . . . What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool.

“It’s a ship!” Emile stage whispered to Angelina, who was jumping up and down in an attempt to see what was going on.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank. People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes� passing the lights in the ship’s portholes.

As they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, she saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur.

But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. “

How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . .”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Emile smiled and waved, recognizing Victor Krum. He gave her a small smile and a curt nod as he passed, getting ushered into the castle by Professor Karkaroff.

As whispers travelled throughout the gathered students Lee began jumping up and down behind George, trying to get a glimpse of the famed Quidditch player.

“For Merlin’s sake Lee,” Emile said as she pulled him down to the ground. “He’s just a person.”

“Oh yeah, he’s no big deal,” George said in a neutral voice, his eyes gleaming.

“He’s just the seeker of the Bulgarian Quidditch team.” Fred said in a nonchalant tone.

“He only caught the snitch at the Quidditch world cup,” Lee added with an eye roll.

“Not impressive at all,” Angelina shook her head, smiling.

At dinner the Beauxbaton students sat at the Ravenclaw table and, to Ron’s disappointment, the Durmstrang students sat with the Slytherins. The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion.

“Who else is coming?” Emile said, turning to Lee.

Before he could respond Dumbledore stood up.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

“Still like the french girls?” Emile muttered to Fred, who rolled his eyes.

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Emile had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

“What’s that?” Said Fred, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

“Bouillabaisse,” said Angelina.

“Bless you,” said George.

“It’s French,” said Angelina, “I had it on holiday summer before last. It’s very nice.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Fred, helping himself to black pudding.

A few minutes into the meal, Lee nudged Emile in the side, pointing up to the staff table.

“Look who’s joined the party,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy’s boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

When the second course arrived a large amount of desserts was sitting before them, some foreign ones included.

“Tiramisu!” Emile gasped, helping herself to as much as she could.

“Isn’t that Italian?”Angelina frowned as she got herself a saucer of Creme Brulee.

“Who cares?” Emile mumbled around a mouthful of mascarpone and ladyfinger.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Fred and George leaned forward, studying the headmaster with great concentration.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket  just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation” — there was a smattering of polite applause — “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow �night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” Fred said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. “Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s in that goblet, you’re laughing — it can’t tell whether you’re seventeen or not!”

“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance,” said Hermione, “we just haven’t learned enough . . .”

“Speak for yourself,” said George shortly. “You’ll try and get in, won’t you, Harry?”

Emile sighed and walked off, glancing over to where Professor Karkaroff was speaking with the Durmstrang students.

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Krum shook his head as he pulled his furs back on.

“Professor, I vood like some vine,” said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy —”

With a grin, Emile headed up to the dorms, eager for a good night’s sleep.

Chapter Text

The next day Emile overslept, as she usually did on Saturday’s. She got up at noon to go eat breakfast, entering the crowded hall in her pajamas.

The first thing she saw was Lee heading towards the door with Fred and George, who were both sporting long white beards.

“Given up yet?” She grinned at the boys.

“Yeah, I think so,” George laughed, spitting out hairs a moment later.

Emile watched them leave before sitting down next to Angelina at the Gryffindor table. The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.

“Emile, I know you’re going to be mad but,” Angelina swallowed nervously, ”I think i’m going to enter the tournament.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried.” Emile smiled at her friend. “But I think someone who got five O’s has a better shot at winning than those dorks.”

Angelina grinned and hugged Emile before walking over to the goblet, a piece of paper in her hands. As she dropped it in the Hogwarts students cheered, and Angelina was pulled out of the room by a crowd of Ravenclaw sixth years.

The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid’s front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it.

“Must be enchanted,” Emile said to herself as she finished a late breakfast and headed back to the common room.

“Emile!” A familiar bulgarian called her over into one of the classrooms.

“Hello Victor, did you enter the tournament?”

“Of course I did,” Victor grinned as though it was obvious. “How about you?”

Emile laughed. “No way, I’d probably die a minute into the first task.”

“You are probably a lot better than you think,” he tried to encourage her, leaning over and stroking her hair. “You have changed it.”

“No, that was some death eater.” Emile shrugged as he put his hand back down. “I just had to deal with the aftermath.”

“VWas this at the vworld cup?” He asked, his eyes dark.

“Yes, I’m afraid it was,” Emile desperately searched for a way to get out of this conversation. “That reminds me, I need to go see Madame Pomfrey about my friends, they were the ones with the beards down in the great hall. I’ll talk to you later!”

Emile darted out of the classroom and speed walked towards the infirmary. It hadn’t been a total lie, she wanted to get the ointment for her scars on before the choosing ceremony after the halloween feast. She still had one more day of this before the scars were supposed to be gone, thankfully.

“Good morning Madame Pomfrey,” she called as she entered the infirmary and sat down next to Fred and George.

“Good morning Emile dear, I’ll be right with you!” The healer called from where she was treating a Ravenclaw girl’s beard.

“Do we look better?” Fred asked, grabbing Emile’s hand.

“The beard is definitely shorter,” Emile grinned as Madame Pomfrey rushed over with the now familiar green bottle and some cotton swabs.

“Come now dear. Lie down over there and let’s remove yesterday’s bandages.”

Emile drew the curtain around her bed a little, to block the twins view of her. She removed the Gryffindor scarf from around her neck before laying down, giving Madame Pomfrey a chance to remove yesterday’s bandages and look over the scars.

“Well dear there’s good news and bad new,” the healer said after a moment. “The bad news is there’s a scar on the side of you neck that won’t go away, but it’s not all that big.”

“It looks pretty cool though,” George said from behind her.

“A bit like a lightning bolt,” Fred added.

“Give a lady some privacy!” Madame Pomfrey bellowed, chasing them back to their beds.

“What’s the good news?” Emile asked as she returned.

“The good news is that all the other scars have faded. Your skin is as pink and fresh as a newborn baby’s.”

“That’s good,” Emile smiled as Madame Pomfrey applied the potion once again and wrapped her up for the last time.

“Now you take it easy and come back tomorrow so that I can take those off,” the healer smiled and let Emile go.

The sixth year wrapped her Gryffindor scarf back around her neck self consciously and left the infirmary to go change.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore’s empty chair at the teacher’s table. Fred and George — clean-shaven again — seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

“Hope it’s Angelina,” said Fred as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down next to him.

“So do I!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Well, we’ll soon know!”

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second feast in two days, people weren’t enjoying the extravagant food as much as usual. Emile however dug in and appreciated every bite, particularly the leftover Tiramisu for dessert.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — he indicated the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

“Any second,” Lee whispered impatiently to Emile.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

A girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

“Blimey,” Fred said admiringly next to Emile. She rolled her eyes and elbowed him.

Two of the girls who had not been selected dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. Angelina shot Emile a bemused expression, which faded as the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

“No!” Fred yelled from next to Emile, his cry blocked out by the cheering from the Hufflepuff table. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table.

“I thinks its good that Hufflepuff will get recognized for something,” Emile said to Lee over the noise, who nodded in response.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand � and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. T

There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore.

And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, “Harry Potter.”

Emile gawked at Harry, and she wasn’t the only one. The whole Gryffindor table was staring at him, jaw dropped.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t.”

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

“Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

“Well . . . through the door, Harry,” said Dumbledore as the fourth year reached him. He wasn’t smiling.

The headmaster quickly excused the hall and sent everyone off to bed, leaving a lot of rumors floating around.

“One would think that he would tell something like that to his best friend,” Ron was saying indignantly.

“If it makes you feel better he didn’t tell us either,” George said with a frown.

“Why would that make me feel better?” Ron snapped and stomped off to his dormitory.

“This calls for a celebration!” Fred said with a grin, running out of the common room.

“Are you coming to get food, Em?” George lingered for a moment as Emile shook her head and sat down by the fireplace, taking out her sketchbook.

The twins returned loaded with crisps, nuts, and cakes of all kind. Not long after some house elves brought up a few barrels of butterbeer and a large amount of mugs, and the party was on. Everyone was chattering excitedly about the tournament and Harry being in it.

When the poor fourth year returned to the common room he was overwhelmed with questions and people and food. Emile hung back in the crowd, Harry looked terrible. Everyone was pestering him with questions, and he adapted a pained expression when Lee tied an old Gryffindor banner around his neck. After half an hour of repeatedly insisting he didn’t do it, he became frustrated and went to bed, leaving a confused crowd in the common room.

“What’s his problem?” George groaned as he sat down next Emile.

“His quote-unquote problem, George, is that he didn’t do it and nobody seems to believe him.” Emile frowned at her friend, getting ready to leave.

“No, don’t go,” George grabbed her hand as she stood up, handing her a plate of tiramisu. “I got this just for you, it’s the last piece.”

“You can’t tempt me,” Emile said, sitting down and taking the plate from him, eating the delicious cake.

“It looks like I can,” he grinned at her. “So why are you so sure Harry didn’t do it?”

“He keeps saying he didn’t and when no one bothered to listen he got frustrated and left,” Emile said, taking another bite of the cake.

“I see your point, but I’m still not sure.”

“George,” Emile looked him in the eyes. “I didn’t believe Harry could have opened the Chamber of Secrets, and I was right. Can’t you trust me on this?”

George gave Emile a doubtful look before turning to his brother, who had just sat down next to them.

“Are we talking about our feelings?” Fred rolled his eyes and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. “Just go on a date already you two, get it over with.”

His laughter turned into a groan as both Emile and George punched him in the side.

Chapter Text

The Friday after that, Emile found herself being summoned from the library by Professor McGonagall. Emile hastily put her books and parchment rolls into her bookbag before heading up to her head of house's office.

“You called for me, Professor McGonagall?” Emile said, entering the book filled space and sitting in front of the desk.

“Yes I did, I wanted you to meet someone.” The Professor beckoned an older man forward. “May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?”

“Ah yes, I remember you.” The older man smiled at Emile. “Thirteen inch, larch with a phoenix feather core. Surprisingly springy flexible, great for charms.”

“This young lady is interested in going into wandlore,” Professor McGonagall said as Emile stared at Mr. Ollivander, her jaw dropped.

“Is she now? Very interesting,” Mr. Ollivander looked Emile over, his eyes twinkling. “Well then, I don’t suppose you would be interested in coming to watch the wand weighing ceremony?”

“I am, I’m not completely sure what it is but I’d love to see it.”

Mr. Ollivander and Professor McGonagall laughed and led the way out of the room and down the hallways of the school to a classroom where Cedric was standing with Fleur and Viktor. Two of the three champions smiled at Emile, while Fleur tossed her silver blonde hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms.

“Vwhat are you doing here, Emile?” Victor asked as she sat down in the corner of the room.

“I have an interest of going into wandlore, so my head of house invited me to watch Mr. Ollivander perform the wand weighing ceremony,” she said with a smile and a shrug.

“You want to go into wandlore?” Cedric smiled at her and shook his head. “Typical Emile, so unusual and unpredictable.”

Before Emile could respond Dumbledore came out of a broom cupboard with Harry and Rita Skeeter. The famed journalist took no note of Emile as she sat down next to her, pulling out a sheet of parchment and a quill.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

“Hmmm . . .” he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me . . .”

“An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands . . . however, to each his own, and if this suits you . . .”

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, “Orchideous!” and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. “Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand.

“Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn . . . must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches . . . ash . . . pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition. . . . You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night,” said Cedric, grinning.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Mr. Krum, if you please.”

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . however . . .” He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

“Yes . . . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot at Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . Avis!”

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. “Which leaves . . . Mr. Potter.”

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander.

“Aaaah, yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.”

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry’s wand than anyone else’s. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —”

Emile followed Professor McGonagall and Mr. Ollivander out of the room as Rita Skeeter held up the champions for some photos for the paper.

“That was incredible,” she gasped as they drew out of earshot of the classroom.

“I’m glad you found it interesting.” Mr. Ollivander smiled at Emile. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Actually, yes.” Emile tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “What makes Harry’s wand so different? You didn’t treat it the same way you did the others.”

“Ah you noticed that did you?” He let out a small chuckle.

“Well for starters that boy needs to polish his wand more often,” Mr Ollivander frowned and wiped his hands on his cloak. “But there’s no point of answering questions with a straight answer, you won’t learn anything that way. May I suggest that you do some research into the connection of the twin cores?”

“Will do, Mr. Ollivander,” Emile smiled as Professor McGonagall excused her.

After a quick dinner she headed up to the library and found as many promising books as she could find.

Soon the second task was just days away, But Emile wasn’t too concerned about it. After all, she wasn’t the one who had entered the tournament. When she wasn’t studying or completing numerous essays, she was reading up on wand cores, trying to find out more on the connection of the twin cores.

“What information do you have for us today?” George said dramatically as Emile sat down with him and Lee at dinner.

“I found it,” Emile said, her eyes shining.

“And?” Lee mumbled around a mouthful of casserole.

“When two wands have a core from the same animal they won’t work properly against each other,” Emile said as she loaded her plate with salad and casserole. “But that didn’t really answer my question, what has that got to do with Harry’s wand?”

“Maybe I could talk to him,” George suggested.

“To find out what, his wand contains a unicorn hair from the same unicorn that you-know-who’s wand has?” Lee scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You never know,” Emile said indignantly. “And even if my question wasn’t answered I learned a lot. I’ve read all the books in the library about wand cores, I think I’m going to read more about wand wood next.”

“Blimey, that sounds like a bore,” Fred said as he sat down next to George. “Let's talk about something more interesting, like the hogsmeade trip tomorrow.”

“The trips tomorrow?” Emile gasped, looking around for Angelina.

“Blimey Em, why so nervous?” Fred laughed.

“Do you have a date?” Lee asked, wide eyed.

“No, Angelina and I are going shopping,” Emile snapped, upset that her dorm mate wasn’t in the room.

“Well you can come shopping with us afterwards, right? Whatever you’re getting shouldn’t take too long.”

Emile laughed as George made this comment.

“It would probably be better if I met up with you guys beforehand. We can walk down together, visit a few shops and I can meet Angelina at the Three Broomsticks after lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan,” George smiled at Emile and she smiled back before taking a bite of the casserole in front of her.

That Saturday, Emile found herself in a large group of boys on the way down to Hogsmeade. She was wearing jeans, high tops, and one of the turtlenecks Mrs. Diggory had bought her to hide the scars around her neck.

“Hurry up Ron,” George called as the fourth year dawdled behind the group, looking up at the castle as they neared the village.

“Is he still not talking to Harry?” Emile whispered to George, who nodded back to her.

“Hey Ron, I had a question for you,” Emile dropped behind the group to join the fourth year.

“Ask away,” he grumbled, looking at the castle once more.

“It’s um, it’s kind of got to do with Harry and I was wondering if that’s alright with you?”

“Is it a lecture about me needing to get over myself?” He snapped, frowning at her.

“Not at all. Ron that’s your problem and I don’t want to get involved.”

“Good.” The fourth year let out a sigh and raised his hands in defeat. “Ask away, I guess.”

“Brilliant,” Emile pulled out a small notebook from her pocket and a pen. “Can you tell me anything about Harry’s wand?”

“Eleven inch, Holly, with a phoenix feather core. Dumbledore’s Pheonix, Faux, is the one who gave the feather for Harry’s wand. Apparently you-know-who’s wand is it’s brother? I’m not entirely sure about that bit.”

Emile stopped and stared at Ron, her mind racing.

“Did that help?” He asked, looking at her oddly.

“Yes, very much. Thank you.” Emile fumbled with the notebook, tucking it back into her pocket. “If you have any questions for me feel free to ask.”
“I’ve got two actually,” Ron smiled maliciously. “Why does my brother like you so much?”

“Which brother?” Emile stared at him.

“And I didn’t believe him when he said you had no idea,” Ron laughed and shook his head.

“I see you aren’t going to answer that, so what’s your other question?”

“What’s that?” He pointed to the pen in her hands.

Emile shook her head and handed it to him. “You are just like your brothers.”

After a couple of stops at Honeydukes and Zonko’s, the group met up with Angelina in the Three Broomsticks for lunch before Emile left them behind. The rest of the afternoon was spent in Gladrag’s Wizard Wear, where Emile and Angelina spent three hours searching for the perfect dress robes. In the end, Angelina bought a slim fitting floor length sky blue gown while Emile got a slim black halter top dress that ended just below her knee.

“I hope there’s a ball of some sort,” Angelina squealed as they made their way back to the castle for dinner.

“You just want Fred to ask you,” Emile teased her, knowing fully well he probably would.

“And who would you want to go with?” Angelina said as the entered the castle grounds. “Lee? George? Victor? Cedric?”

“Ok, definitely not the last two, and as for the first two-”
“Emile!”

“Speak of the devil,” Angelina muttered into Emile’s ear as the twins and Lee walked up to them.

“Did you take care of your girl stuff?” Fred asked, an innocent expression on his face. His comment earned him a punch from both Emile and Angelina before the group headed down to dinner.

The first task was taking place in the forbidden forest after lunch. Fred and George were going around collecting bets on each of the champions, so Emile headed down to the forest with Angelina and Lee.

“What do you think the first task will be?” Angelina said as they neared the end of the trail the teachers had sent them on.

“If you ask that one more time I will put hair removal cream on your pillow,” Emile said in an exasperated voice as Lee laughed.

When they reached the end of the trail they found themselves in a clearing surrounded by stands. Being on of the first ones there, they claimed some good seats in the first row of stands, saving spots next to to them for the twins.

A roar and a burst of flame from behind the stands in front of them caused Emile to jump.

“Well, now we know what it is,” she muttered as she glimpsed Charlie Weasley running into a tent on the far side of the field.

When the task finally began it was very hard to watch. First came Cedric, up against the Swedish Short Snout. He attempted to transfigure a nearby rock into a labrador, a marvelous piece of magic, to distract the dragon. It worked, for a moment. The dragon realized it was being tricked and released its fire, burning Cedric just as he reached his golden egg.

As the dragon was taken away and Cedric was led into a different tent by Madame Pomfrey, Emile noticed she was squeezing Lee’s hand so hard it was losing color.

“I’m sorry!” She gasped, letting go of her friend’s wrist.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded as he massaged his wrist.

Next up was Fluer, battling the Welsh Green. She managed to put the dragon into a trance, but us she neared her egg it let out a snort and her skirt caught on fire. She quickly put it out with a small jet of water, and though she did have a small amount of points taken off for catching on fire she did not in fact sustain any injuries.

“That was somewhat anticlimactic,” Angelina said in a disappointed tone as the dragon was dragged off.

“I bet Viktor will have some sort of trick up his sleeve,” Emile said as the Chinese Fireball was brought into the ring.

“They haven’t even announced who’s going yet, how do you know it’s Viktor?” Lee argued.

“The Chinese Fireball just seems like his kind of Dragon,” Emile smiled at Lee and took a handful of popcorn from George, who was sitting behind them.

Sure enough, Viktor Krum was the contestant to battle the Chinese Fireball. He cast a spell that hit the dragon square in the forehead, leaving it teetering around the clearing in pain. Victor claimed his golden egg a split second before his dragon trampled half of the real ones.
“He’s going to get a load of points taken off for that,” Angelina yelled to Emile over the cheering crowd.

Finally it was Harry’s turn. The crowd screamed as the fourth year entered the ring, trembling. After a moment, he raised his wand into the air and yelled something that was drowned out by the yelling of the twins behind Emile.

Then they heard it, whistling through the air as it flew over the tree’s and into the ring.

“It’s the firebolt!” Lee was yelling next to Emile, beside himself.

Harry mounted the broom and soured into the sky until he was no more than a hovering black speck. Then he dove, swerving to avoid the prickly head of the Hungarian Horntail as it let out a stream of fire.

“Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?”

Harry circled the Horntail on his broom, making it mad. The crowd gasped as the fourth year swerved out of the way of another jet of fire, only for the tail twigs of his broom to catch on fire. Then the large spiked tail came out of nowhere, grazing Harry’s side as it passed.

Harry continued angering the Horntail for a good ten minutes, swerving this way and that to avoid her gaping jaws and smoldering flames.

“Anticlimactic,” Angelina mumbled next to Emile through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Ok no more for you two, I payed for this,” George yelled over the crowd as Emile snuck another handful of popcorn.

The girls laughed and turned their attention back to the ring as Harry dove under the dragon, emerging with the golden egg in hand.

“He’s done it! He’s done it!” Lee yelled next to Emile, standing up and pumping his fist in the air.

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”

Harry landed by the stands and was helped into the infirmary tent by Professor McGonagall. As everyone started heading back to the castle, the twins grabbed Emile by the arms and dragged her along with them.

“We need help carrying food down to the common room for the party,” Fred said between pants as the three of them ran up to the castle, going down to the kitchen and tickling the pear.

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every� surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail’s head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire. Emile disapproved of these at first, though in the end she laughed along with the others.

“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let’s just see what’s inside it!”

“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly. “It’s in the tournament rules. . . .”

“I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too,” Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily.

“Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!” several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and pried it open. It was hollow and completely empty — but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee. . . . Maybe you’ve got to get past one of those next, Harry!”

“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!”

“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. “They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower, Harry.”

“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her.

Fred grinned. “It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch —”

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. “Just my little joke, Neville. . . .”

Hermione took a jam tart.

Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?”

“Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “ ‘Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful . . . get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”

“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.

“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and —” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”

“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly.

“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?”

Several people chortled. Hermione didn’t answer.

“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly “You’ll put them off their cooking!”

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

“Oh — sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed —”

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!”

“Are you alright, Neville?” Emile asked, leaning over to help the laughing boy back onto a sofa.

“I’m alright,” he said, his laughter subsiding as he coughed up a few feathers.

Emile smiled at her half brother before going over to sit in between the twins.

“Did you like the first demonstration of our upcoming line of products?” Fred asked shamelessly.

“It’s brilliant. I’m never eating a candy you offer me again.”

Fred and George laughed out loud at her comment, no doubt imagining ways to get her to eat their future creations, whatever they may be.

With a smile Emile helped herself to a jam tart, feeling calm for the first time in a long time. The rest of the party went by in a blur, she just remembered waking up at three am with her head on George’s shoulder as he shook her awake, insisting she went up to her bed. Emile yawned and obliged, happy to put on her pajamas and curl up in her loft bed, the sound of Carrot running on her hamster wheel lulling her to sleep.

Chapter Text

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter, Emile was glad of its fires and thick walls every time she passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. She thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too.

“I have an announcement the headmaster wishes me to make,” Professor Snape interrupted the usual Potions class.

Emile looked up with the few others in NEWT Potions. Snape wore an unusually sour expression on his face, and he had been avoiding Emile all year. In the hallways when he saw her he would wince and walk the other way, and the hardly ever called on her during class anymore.

“The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —”

Several snickers sounded throughout the classroom, but were silenced with a glare from the Professor.

“Dress robes will be worn,” he continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then —” Professor Snape stared deliberately around the class. “The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to — er — let our hair down,” he said, in a disapproving voice.  “But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts. Have I made myself clear?”

Emile nodded along with the rest of the class as the bell rang and everyone packed their bags. She made up her mind to ask Snape about why he’d been ignoring her more than usual.

“Professor, may I have a word?” Emile called out as the last few students exited the room.

Snape pretended not to hear her as he went into his office and shut the door. Emile let out a sigh and went out into the hallway, on her way to dinner.

Over the course of the next few days, a lot of Emile’s friend were asked to the ball. Katie Bell’s ex-boyfriend had asked Katie, much to the delight of her roommates. Alicia was hoping Lee would ask her.

“Why Lee?” Emile asked one evening, surprised.

“I’d rather go with someone I consider a friend then someone I might end up making advances on,” Alicia sighed and leaned back against her pillows, smiling. “I just want to have fun.”

“Preach it, sister,” Angelina called from where she was changing behind her curtains.

The list to remain behind for the holiday’s was incredibly long. No one fourth year or higher wanted to miss the ball. When the list reached Emile she winced, thinking about how crowded the common room would be.

Now that the holiday’s were drawing near, Emile and Lee had prefect duties to take care of. They were in charge of decorating the school. Mistletoe and holly being strung throughout the hallway’s, ice sculptures being made. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them.

“End of term, decorating, and the yule ball all at once,” Lee moaned as they returned to the common room late one night. “It’s a lot of stress to handle.”

“Just ask Alicia to the ball, she wants to go as just friends.” Emile rolled her eyes and smiled at Lee, who was turning a bit red.

“Well I don’t know if I’ll ask Alicia yet, I had another girl in mind.”

“Good for you,” Emile gave her friend a high five before walking over to Fred and George, who were busy writing another letter to Ludo Bagman.

“Any luck?” She whispered to George, who was frowning at the paper.

Before he could respond a loud explosion sounded behind him. Ron had just lost a game of exploding snap and had his eyebrows singed.

“Nice look, Ron . . . go well with your dress robes, that will.”

Fred and George left Emile and went over sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt how much damage had been done.

“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked.

“No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?”

“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically.

“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George.

“Who d’you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron.

“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So . . . you lot got dates for the ball yet?”

“Nope,” said Ron.

“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred.

“Who’re you going with, then?” said Ron.

“Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

Emile couldn’t help but gawk at the twin. This was the first she had heard of this arrangement.

“What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked her?”

“Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, “Oi! Angelina!”

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia near the fire, looked over at him.

“What?” she called back.

“Want to come to the ball with me?”

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

“All right, then,” she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

“There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of cake.”

He got to his feet, yawning, and said, “We’d better use a school owl then, George, come on. . . .”

As the twins left a stunned Ron, Emile shook her head and went over to Angelina, laughing at her star struck roommate.

The next day, Emile found a somewhat dejected Neville wandering through the halls on his own.

“Something bothering you, Neville?” She asked, walking up to him.
“Oh, hi Emile,” he said with a sigh. “I asked Hermione to the ball, but she’s already going with someone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Neville.”

Emile was desperately searching for a solution to Neville’s problem.

“I know, how about you ask Ginny? She’s staying for the holiday’s, and she’s a third year so she won’t have anything to do.”

“That’s, that’s brilliant!” Neville gave Emile a hug as they entered the common room. “Thanks a lot.”
“No problem!” Emile called after him as he ran off, smiling.

“Emile!” Alicia was now running Emile, a smile on her face. “You’ll never guess what I did!”

“You passed Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“Don’t be rude.” Alicia shoved Emile in the side. “I asked Lee to the Yule Ball!”

Something similar to a pit opened up in Emile’s stomach.

“R-really?” She asked, a forced smile on her face. “That’s great, I’m happy for you.”

Alicia smiled at Emile. “I’m glad you aren’t mad, sometime’s it looks like you and Lee might have a thing for each other.”
Emile laughed out loud. “No, no. I couldn’t -I mean- I would never-”

“And the best part is he said yes!” Alicia wasn’t paying attention to what Emile was saying, she was too happy.

Emile put aside her own feelings and listened to her friend rambling happily, not at all concerned about her date to the Yule Ball.

Term had ended.  Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feathers all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Emile that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. She was far less willing to accept food from them after that.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid’s cabin, while the Durmstrang ship’s portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.

“It is too ’eavy, all zis ’Ogwarts food,” she said grumpily in the Great Hall one evening. “I will not fit into my dress robes!”

Emile rolled her eyes at Angelina, who giggled in response.

Christmas Eve came faster then Emile would have liked, she had done all of her shopping but she still didn’t have a partner for the ball.

“I’ve had an epiphany,” She said to George one evening. The were sitting together in front of the fire, drinking hot cocoa at one in the morning in their pajamas. Everyone else had gone to sleep. Fred had gone to use the restroom, but Emile was pretty sure he had gone to bed too.

“What is your Epiphany?” George asked, taking a sip out of his mug of hot chocolate.

“You remember in third year when we slept down here, and we slid down the stairs on our mattresses?”

“Vividly,” George said with a grin.

Emile smiled mischievously. “What if we did it, right now? Slid down the girls stairs?”

“But boys can’t go up the girls stairs,” George reminded her.

“Do you trust me?” Emile grabbed her friend’s arms and looked him in the eyes.

“Yes?” He answered a bit hesitantly.

“Then don’t stop now,” Emile grinned at him, running over to the girls dormitory’s.

She climbed the steps to her room, casting the muffliato charm on all of the doors she passed. Once she reached her room she quietly levitated her mattress off of the loft bed and out of the room. At the top of the staircase she leaned the mattress against the wall before going back down, casting the muffliato charm again as she went, to make sure no one was woken up.

“I’m here!” Emile gasped as she ran back up to George.

“What are you up to?” He asked, setting his mug down and standing up.

Emile quickly pointed her wand at her friend. “Levioso!” She said, carefully floating a nervous George up the stairs of the girls dormitory’s. Once they reached the top she carefully kicked the mattress off of the wall so that it was lying down on the stairs before she set George down on top of it.

Emile barely had time to jump onto the mattress before a loud screech filled the stairwell and the stairs turned into a slide. She was dimly aware of George holding onto her waist tightly as they slid down the spiral staircase, laughing. The mattress slid into the common room and crashed into one of the armchairs, sending the people on it flying into the air and landing on the ground with a thud, the male on top of the female. They lay there for several moments, panting and gazing into each other’s eye’s.

“I am never not trusting you again,” George said after a moment, helping Emile stand up.

“And we didn’t even wake anyone up!” Emile smiled, feeling proud of her accomplishment.

“I need to finish my cocoa and get to bed,” George said after a moment, leading Emile over to the fire.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their hot cocoa and gazing into the fire.

“We’re so old,” George said after a moment. “Sixteen.”

“I’m seventeen,” Emile corrected him, knowing what was coming next.

“Really? Whens your birthday?”

“I-” Emile broke off and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “August thirty-first.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” George gawked at her. “All those times you were over, and you never mentioned it! Heck, this year you didn’t even get to celebrate. You were unconscious in a hospital!”

“George, please stop,” Emile whispered.

Clearing her throat, she spoke louder. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell you, but in order to explain I would have to reveal something that could hurt someone I care about. I’ve only told one other person, ever.”

George gave a small nod and stared off into the fire for a few more moments.

“Hey Em?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna go to the Ball with me?”

Emile grinned down at her cup of hot cocoa and then up at George. “Of course.”
“Brilliant,” George grinned at her before draining the rest of his hot cocoa and heading off to bed, claiming he had a letter to write. Emile figured it was just another letter to Ludo Baggman and headed off to her own bed, taking the mattress with her.

The next day Emile overslept and ended up eating lunch for breakfast. Lunch consisted of a load of roasted turkey and christmas pudding and wizard crackers. Emile left lunch with three different wizard hats and the intention of going to open her presents in her dorm. But she ended up joining Harry and the Weasley’s for a snowball fight on the grounds, leaving early with Hermione to get ready for the ball as well as open her presents.

“What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at them incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head.

“Who’re you going with?” he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle alongside Emile.

“Can you tell me who you’re going with?” Emile asked hesitantly as they approached the common room.

“I suppose everyone will find out sooner or later,” Hermione turned to Emile, a grin on her face. “Viktor Krum.”

“Really? Good for you!” Emile applauded the fourth year as they went to their separate rooms to get ready.

Once she was in the privacy of her currently abandoned dorm, Emile grabbed her bathrobe and shampoo and headed down to the prefects bathroom to take a bath. Inside she found all sixteen female prefects and head girls discussing the ball, and gladly joined in.

An hour later, Emile was up in her dorm, her hair in a Ravenclaw prefect’s curlers and her skin more exfoliated then ever. She turned on the enchanted muggle radio she had gotten from Mr. Diggory a few years back and listened to christmas carols as she opened up her presents.

This year Cedric had gotten her a stunning silver necklace that came with a note telling her she’d better wear it to the ball. Mrs. Diggory had sent her a box containing the clothes of hers they had retrieved from the tent at the World Cup. Emile was glad to see the Bulgarian scarf still intact and sitting on top of the pile. Mr. Diggory had sent along a small bag filled with galleons. There was a letter from her father, which Emile promised not to open until until after the ball. Fred and George had given her a bag of sweets and a bracelet from each of them, which Emile added to her collection. Angelina’s gift was a full makeup set, no doubt it would be used that evening, and Lee had given her a big box of her favorite wizards candy and wizard socks.

The most touching gift was from Mrs. Weasley. Alongside the usual honorary Weasley Sweater (this years a light beige with a White E on the front) and a box of homemade fudge came a small box and a letter.

Emile Dear,

George sent me a letter in the wee hours of the morning as I was preparing to send off these parcels telling me all about your birthday and how you had been in the hospital. I spoke to Arthur and he agrees that you deserve this. It is tradition in our family that each wizard receives a watch when they come of age. Us female’s usually prefer something a bit more fancy than a wristwatch, so I have for you a very nice silver pocket watch, it even comes with a chain!

We hope you consider us family as well. You will always be welcome in this household, if you ever need anything then you know where to find us.

Yours,

Molly Weasley

Emile felt a tear slide down her cheek as she put the letter down and opened up the small box. Inside was one of the most elegant pocket watches Emile had seen. It was silver, with detailer carvings of a vast countryside engraved on the back. She immediately attached the chain to the strap of her mokeskin pouch and tucked the watch inside.

At that moment Angelina and Alicia came in, fresh out of the shower. They squealed when they saw the curlers in Emile’s short, red hair, and the remaining two hours went by in a blur. Emile’s face was wiped, tweezed, and suffocated under layers of makeup, but the end result was worth it. As a last minute touch, Emile put on the silver necklace from Cedric, thanking Merlin for her nuisance of a cousin.

Emile twirled in the mirror, admiring her own bouncy curls before slipping on her Chuck Taylor wedges and joining Angelina and Alicia on their way down to the common room. The three of them waited by the common room fire for their dates to show up, and when they finally did they all headed down to the ball in a large group, arm in arm with their dates.

“You look ravishing,” George said as they went down the moving staircases.

“As do you,” Emile grinned, admiring his dress robes. Sometimes boys could clean up very well. They just had to have a reason. “Thank you, by the way. That was really sweet of you, and you mother. Thank her for me.”

“What about my mother?” Fred called back to them as they neared the great hall.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” George said with a wink at Emile.

“Oh Lee, watch where  you step,” Angelina groaned as he tripped.

“I’m alright!” He cried, jumping up.

George laughed and patted Lee on the head as they passed him and Alicia and entered the entrance hall. It was filled with students milling around, waiting for their dates to show up or for the doors to open at eight.

“Two more minutes!” George grinned at Emile excitedly.

“You’re oddly excited for a dance,” Emile teased her friend.

“I’m excited that something different is happening,” he responded with a grin. “Instead of a boring old school year we get to watch the Triwizard Tournament! That’s pretty big.”

“Well here’s something different for you,” Emile nodded in the direction of Viktor Krum, who was accompanied by Hermione.

George’s aw dropped at the sight of the fourth year, as did a majority of the school’s when they realized who it was that Viktor Krum had brought as his dance partner. It was Hermione. But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling rather nervously.

“Ron’s going to be a sourpuss when he realizes,” George said, looking around for his brother as Professor McGonagall called the Champions and their partners to the front of the group.

“He’s over there,” Emile nudged George and pointed across the hall, where Ron was standing next to Padma Patil of Ravenclaw with a sour expression on his face.

“We’re going in!” Angelina appeared next to Emile with Fred as the crowd surged forward and into the Great Hall.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron’s as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.

“What’s your brother doing here?” Emile nudged George as they sat down at a table with Fred, Angelina, Lee, and Alicia.

“I don’t know, but it can’t be anything good,” George muttered as he looked over at Fred, nodding up at the judges table. Fred frowned back, and the twins shrugged in unison.

“It’s like they have their own language,” Angelina whispered to Emile.

“We do,” they responded in unison, laughing.

Across the table a couple of Ravenclaw Boys had opened up their dinner menu’s and were reading it over.

“Pork chops!” One said aloud.

No sooner had he said these words a delicious dinner of pork chops appeared on his plate, the tempting smell drifting over the table and encouraging the others to do the same.

Emile also ordered pork chops, while George got a plate of goulash. In between bites they talked about many things, the ball, the tournament, schoolwork.

“I don’t think mum will be pleased to hear we’re going ahead with the joke shop as soon as we get that money from Baggman,” George mumbled around a mouthful of goulash.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Emile grinned and ate the final bite of her pork chops and looked over the dessert menu.

“But it’s a good idea, right?” George asked after he’d swallowed.

“Oh course it is!” Emile looked at him over her menu. “It’s right up your alley, you guys are going to make millions.”

“At least you support us,” George grinned and took another bite of food.

After everyone had finished eating Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments as the champions stood up and went out onto the dance floor, preparing for their dance.

Once a few more people had joined into the dancing Fred led Angelina onto the dance floor, leaving Emile and George to snicker at them from the sidelines. Lee and Alicia soon followed, Emile noticed that Lee was trying a bit too hard to show how good of a dancer he was. He wasn’t particularly good, and when he tried he was simply terrible.

“Shall we?” George said after a moment, holding out his hand.

“We shall,” Emile grinned and took his hand.

George led her out onto the dance floor, putting one hand on her waist and holding her hand in the other.

“I’m thinking something along the line of a waltz,” George grinned and began something in between a waltz and a foxtrot.

“I don’t know what you’re doing but it definitely isn’t a waltz,” Emile laughed as she tripped over her own feet for the third time.

Before George could respond the song ended, and amidst the crowds applause the Weird Sisters started up a faster song. Nearby Emile spotted Fred and Angelina, who were dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury. Emile looked back at George, who laughed and began to imitate his brother.

After a few songs, Emile’s side hurt too much to continue, so George suggested they take a break. Emile sat down at one of the remaining tables as George went to get them some ice cold butterbeers.

“Hey,” Lee sat down next to her, gasping.

“Hey you, where’s Alicia?”

Lee looked around, as if he’d just noticed his date was missing.

“She’s uh, oh yes she’s over with Fred and Angelina.” Lee squinted towards the center of the dance floor.

Emile followed his gaze to where Alicia was talking to Angelina, her arms crossed. Fred kept glancing over to where she was sitting with Lee, a frown on his face.

“Lee, get out there to your date,” Emile frowned at her friend, shocked that he would leave Alicia like that.

“I don’t- I mean- I-” Lee took a deep breath before looking at Emile. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to dance?”

“Now Lee, don’t you go causing trouble,” George said warningly as he returned with the drinks, handing Emile her bottle of butterbeer.

“Lee, what the heck?” Emile glared at the boy, standing up. “You can’t just abandon Alicia, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? Nothings wrong with me, what’s wrong with you?” Lee stood up and glared at Emile. “Ever since you colored your hair you’ve been acting like a completely different person.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Emile asked, taken back.

“Lee, would you just tell her and get it over with?” George interrupted, glaring at him from beside Emile.

“Tell me what?” Emile looked back and forth from one boy to the other as they held eye contact for a solid minute.

“If you don’t tell her, I will,” George crossed his arms as he held eye contact with the dark skinned boy.

Lee let out a sigh and looked over at Emile.

“Emile, I-” he broke off and swallowed nervously. “I’ve been in love with you since the fourth year. I’ve been trying to tell you, but something would always come up.”

Emile looked from one boy to the other. After a moment she turned to Lee. “Lee that’s very sweet, but this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re just leaving Alicia on the dance floor.”

“I didn’t want to come with Alicia!” Lee objected, looking hurt.

“Then you should have said no to her! Or, you could have asked me to go with you earlier!”

Emile stared at Lee. Part of her wanted to tell him that she felt the same way, but she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. The only thing she was certain of was that Alicia deserved better treatment than this.

“I’m going to talk to Alicia.” Emile turned away from the two boys and headed out across the dance floor.

“Is everything alright?” Alicia called out as Emile joined them.

“No.” Emile quickly explained what had just happened.

“He’s so stupid.” Fred groaned, looking at where Lee was sitting alone at a table.

“He can sit and mope, I’ve had my eye on a Beauxbatons guy that came stag!” Alicia yelled over the music before winking at disappearing into the crowd.

Emile and Angelina laughed before turning back to Fred, who left a moment later when they convinced him to talk to Lee. A few songs later, the Weird Sisters played another slow song, and since their dates were gone the girls danced together, passing Alicia and her new date as the gallantly waltzed by.

Soon Fred and George returned, frowns on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Emile asked, noticing with a pang Lee’s now empty seat.

“We just talked to Ludo Baggman,” Fred sighed.

“He doesn’t seem to be breaking,” George growled under his breath.

Emile took George by the arm. “Hey, want to go on a walk?” Emile said into his ear.

George nodded and they headed out of the Great Hall and into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes, winding, ornamental paths, and large stone statues. Emile could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches.

Emile walked towards the noise of splashing water till she came to a large fountain. She quickly went over to it and stood on the rim of the pool of water on the bottom, holding George’s hand as she walked around the edge. With a sigh of relief she pulled of her wedges and dipped her sore feet into the water. George took off his own shoes and socks before joining her, rolling up his pants as he did.

“When was the last time we had a drama-free year?” Emile asked after a moment of silence.

“Third year?” George said somewhat hesitantly, as if he couldn’t exactly remember either.

“We’re so OLD,” Emile groaned, leaning backwards and almost falling off of the edge of the fountain.

“Careful!” George laughed as he grabbed her arm until she regained her balance.

At that moment a drunken couple stumbled by, giggling, and went into the nearby rosebushes. Emile and George stared at each other in silent amusement as sounds of snogging came from the bushes, followed soon by an angry outburst from Professor Snape, who was patrolling the gardens.

“Should we be concerned about Snape?” George said as the voices behind the bushes faded away.

“I don’t really care,” Emile said haughtily.

George laughed as splashed her lightly with water from the fountain. Emile gasped as the icy water hit her legs and splashed him back. Soon the two were running around the fountain, churning up the water as they went. Angry yells came from across the grounds, indicating that it was time to go.

George and Emile grabbed each others hand and their shoes as they ran back into the castle, soaking wet and laughing. Once inside they hid behind the statue of the three eyed witch, slipping into their shoes as fast as they could.

“Exaresco,” Emile whispered, pointing her wand first and her clothes and then at George’s, drying them instantly.

The pair began walking back towards the great hall, running into Snape on the way there. No doubtedly he thought they weren’t the pair he was looking for because of their dry clothes, and when he turned the corner the two of them burst out into fits of laughter.

The great hall was half empty by now. Angelina and Fred were still there, sitting at one of the tables with bottles of butterbeer in hand.

“Look in the corner,” Angelina whispered to Emile as she sat down next to her.

Alicia was behind one of the christmas trees with the Beauxbaton boy. The pair seemed to be having an intimate snogging session.

“Go Alicia,” Emile cheered silently to Angelina, who giggled.

“Here you are, Em.” George passed her a butterbeer, which Emile took gratefully, opening the bottle and chugging half of it.

After a half hour or so of talking, the two pairs returned to the dance floor for what were to be the last five songs. After jumping and twirling to four rather upbeat songs, a slow dance played. Instead of waltzing to this one Emile wrapped her arms around George’s neck and leaned against him, feeling a wave of exhaustion come over her as they rocked back and forth.

“Merlin’s beard,” George muttered after a minute or so.

Emile looked around to see nearly all of the couples around them snogging, the exceptions being Neville and Ginny and the teachers who weren’t paying too much attention. Even Fred and Angelina were getting in on the action.

“I reckon we shouldn’t be the odd ones out,” George said teasingly.

“I reckon you’re right,” Emile grinned, too tired to fathom what was going on.

But when George kissed her something felt different. It wasn’t like Oliver’s quick pecks, it was something more meaningful. Emile didn’t want him to stop.

“Wow,” he said after pulling away. “That was weird.”

“Very,” Emile agreed, butterflies in her stomach.

“Can we agree not to do that again?” He said as the music ended and the teachers began to chases the kids back to their common rooms.

“We can agree to disagree,” Emile teased, taking Angelina’s arm and heading to bed with her friend, eager to discuss tonight’s events.

Chapter Text

“Gorska! See me after class.”

A small chorus of snickers echoed throughout the classroom, the familiar voice of Lee amongst them. Mad Eye’s magic eye swept over the room, silencing the whispers. Ever since the professor had had them practice the imperius curse on each other, everyone had begun to take him very seriously.

“Did I do something wrong, Professor?” Emile asked hesitantly once everyone had left the room.

“Not at all,” he grunted, sitting down at his desk. “I have a message for you to take to your cousin.”

“Cedric?” Emile frowned at the Professor.

“Aye, Diggory. Tell him to take a bath with that egg of his.”

Emile stared at Professor Moody. “A bath?”

“You heard me,” he grunted, taking off his false leg with a sigh. “Here, let me get the door for yo- ARGH!”

Emile let out a small shriek as her hand flew to her throat, as at that moment Professor Moody had tripped and fallen onto one of his sneakescopes, shattering it, the scar on her neck had let out a flash of pain.

“I’ll fetch Madame Pomfrey,” she gasped as she stumbled out of the room, half blinded by the pain. The further away from the classroom she went, the more the pain ceased. When she arrived in the infirmary it had faded to a dull thud.

When Madame Pomfrey gave Emile a small painkiller she ran up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Emile sat on one of the hospital beds for a few minutes before heading down to dinner, which was sure to be an exciting event.

“Cedric,” Emile called as she neared the Hufflepuff table.

“Em!” Her cousin stood up and gave her a hug. “What’s up? I heard Moody held you after class.”

“Yes about that, he has a message for you and it’s a bit weird but don’t judge me too harshly.”

Cedric shrugged. “Fire away.”

“Professor Moody suggests that you take a bath with your golden egg.”
Cedric stared at Emile. “A bath.”
“A bath,” Emile stared at him, a small smile growing on her face. “I swear that’s what he said.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Cedric laughed and waved as Emile headed over to the Gryffindor table and sat down in between Alicia and Angelina.

“You alright?” Alicia asked as Emile loaded some pork chops and mashed potatoes on her bed.

“I’m not sure,” Emle frowned and massaged her scar self consciously.

There was a Hogsmeade weekend halfway through January. Since Lee was being an ignorant sourpuss, Emile spent the day with Angelina. Alicia had made arrangements with the Beauxbaton boy, and they two had gone to Madame Puddlefoot’s tea shop.

“I almost wish Fred had invited me,” Angelina said remorsefully as they glimpse Alicia and her man through the window.

“Mmm,” Emile nodded as they walked into the Three Broomsticks. The pub was filled with students warming up, and Angelina and Emile squeezed into a seat by the counter.

“So when are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and George?” Angelina asked shamelessly as Emile took a sip of her butterbeer, choking on it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emile objected once she had finished coughing.

“Oh please, we saw you two at the ball,” Angelina rolled her eyes. “Lee saw you too, he was with some Beauxbaton girl.”

“Good for him, he moved on quickly and now he’s giving me the cold shoulder.” With a frown Emile chugged down the rest of her butterbeer.

“No, he was trying to make you jealous,” Angelina argued as they got up to leave the pub.

“Well, he did a good job. That doesn’t mean I would date him!”Emile objected as her friend squealed.

“Why not?” She said ecstatically, grabbing Emile’s arm.

“We’re going to graduate soon, I think I’ll save myself for something that might go somewhere.”
Angelina groaned as Emile dragged her into Honeydukes. As much as Emile wanted to be done, she knew her friend wouldn’t stop trying.

That night Emile couldn’t sleep. The letter from her father had disappeared, the only explanation was that someone had taken it.

She sighed as she watched Carrot roll around in her hamster ball towards the door. Emile picked up her pet and carried her down to the common room, desperate to talk to someone.The warm room was dimly lit by the fire in the fireplace, illuminating the empty armchairs. Emile quietly crept up the stairs to the sixth year boys dormitories, pausing outside the door.

She stood there for several minutes, contemplating her decision. As she lifted her hand to knock a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“Emile? Merlin’s beard it’s one in the morning.”

Emile turned to face Lee, shaking slightly. He winced as she faced him. No doubt she looked like a mess, her eyes were red and her hair was crumpled. Her glasses were in her bedroom, so the deep bags under her eyes were clearly visible. And there she was, at one in the morning, in her pajamas. Holding onto her pet rat in front of the boys dormitory.

“You alright?” He asked hesitantly, stepping a bit closer.

“My roommates were all asleep and I just really needed to talk to someone,” Emile said quietly.

Before Lee could respond a loud bang came from inside the room. A moment later Fred and George emerged, coughing.

“Do not go in there, Lee.” Fred coughed as he leaned against the wall.

“Emile?” George stared at her curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Emile said a bit louder.

“Well you can tell us down in the common room, looks like we’ll be sleeping there.” Fred ushered the group of them down to where they sat on a sofa by the fire.

“I’ll bring you guys some spare blankets, here watch Carrot.” Emile ran up to her room and grabbed her quilt and three blankets.

“You’re too kind,” Fred gushed as she handed each of them one of her blankets.

“What was that?” Emile asked as she wrapped herself in her quilt and settled down between George and the fire.

“A fake wand,” Fred said with a glare at his brother. “Because SOMEONE forget what their own invention looks like.”
George rolled his eyes. “We were working on our new candy and I grabbed one of our fake wands instead of my real wand. The whole room is filled with pink and blue gas.”

“I opened the window so that it will clear out, but there’s no guarantee it’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Fred yawned and wrapped the blanket tightly around him.

“Are you going to tell us what you were doing up there?”`Lee interrupted with a nod towards the boys dormitories.

“I wanted to talk to someone,” Emile shrugged. “It’s not too important.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Fred laughed before turning serious.”It’s obvious that you’ve been crying.”

Emile felt another tear slide down her cheek. “I’ve lost the letter from my father.” She whispered.

“What?” Fred turned to Lee, who shrugged as George put his arm around Emile.

“My father’s been in prison since the summer before fourth year. He sends me a letter every Christmas, and I can’t find the one he sent this year.” Emile felt a few more tears slide down her cheek as she spoke.

“Have you gone to visit him at all these past few years?” Fred asked, looking off into the distance.

“No, he wasn’t allowed visitors until this past summer, and we were going to the World Cup then,” Emile sniffed. “We were going to go this summer.”

“That’s good,” George said comfortingly, attempting to cheer her up.

“But he sounded so sad in his last letter.” Emile began to sob. “I’m worried he might try something dangerous. I think he might try to hurt himself. I don’t want him to leave me.”

“Oh, Em,” George said as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Fred and Lee sat in silence across from them as the fire flickered solemnly.

“Harry?” Freed’s voice caused the lot of them to wake up. They had fallen asleep in the common room floor, no doubt it was an interesting scene to walk in on.

“What are you doing up so late?” George frowned at the champion as he walked over to them.

“I was just working on the egg,” he said a bit awkwardly as he noticed Emile with George.

“Have you cracked it yet?” She asked, causing the twins to laugh.

“I think so,” Harry said, smiling a bit as he sat down next to Lee and Fred.

“That’s good,” Emile yawned before standing up and stretching. “You three have fun down here, I’m going to bed-Ow!”

Emile fell over, her hand on her scar.She felt like her life was flashing before her eyes, except it wasn’t hers. A pair of older hands was holding onto a piece of parchment and laughing gleefully.

“You alright?” Lee asked as Emile came back into focus.

“Did you see that?” She asked hesitantly as she stood up.

“See what?” Fred frowned as she stared around the group.

“I must be more tired than I thought,” she said with a whisper as she headed towards the girls stairs.

“Goodnight!” George called after her as she climbed the stairs to her room.

The month of January went by without too many interesting events happening. NEWT classes were getting harder as teachers began to prepare them for the end of term exams. Emile found herself in the library a bit more often than usual, studying some chart or book. Before she could comprehend how quickly time was passing it was halfway through February, the next task was upon them.

Emile stood by the lake in her black trenchcoat and the scarf and beanie from Cedric. She was waiting for Angelina and the twins, who were meeting her to watch the task. Emile had packed two bags of popcorn and a handful of Honeydukes sweets in her mokeskin pouch, which was swinging from her hand. She also had a large thermos of butterbeer. It was a cold day, and she needed something to warm her hands later.

“Where have you three been?” She yelled as the twins and Angelina appeared over the rise, heading down to where Emile was waiting by a boat. “The task starts in,” Emile checked the silver pocket watch, “ten minutes!”

“We were grabbing some snacks from the kitchen,” George gasped as they all climbed into the boat and it carried them toward the middle of the lake. He proudly displayed a bag of popcorn.

“I told you yesterday that I was taking care of that,” Emile groaned and showed them the content of her pouch. George gave a weak smile and added his bag among the contents of the pouch.

They joined Lee in the stands as Mr. Baggman stood up.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!”

Upon his command each of the champions did something different. Fleur and Cedric applied the bubble head charm and dove into the water. Harry stuffed something into his mouth and followed, and Viktor transfigured his head into a shark before diving in after the lot.

“What now?” Fred asked when the crowd had ceased cheering.

“Now we stare at the lake for a full hour,” Emile grinned, pulling out her snacks. She gave George back his bag of popcorn and handed Angelina another before pulling out the thermos of butterbeer and a spare cup, pouring herself some of the drink. Soon they were all sitting around sipping butterbeer and eating popcorn as the clock ticked on.

“Miss Delacoure has been forced to quit the task!” Ludo Baggman called thirty minutes in as the blonde haired girl limped out of the water, shivering.

“Finally, something happens,” Fred sat up, eagerly scanning the water. After ten minutes of inactivity, he gave up and slouched in his seat, grumbling.

“These tasks are very anticlimactic for the audience,” Angelina sighed, stuffing another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“As we reach the one hour limit there is still no sign of any of the champions!” Baggman called out somewhat anxiously.

At that moment Cedric burst out of the lake with Cho Chang. The stands exploded in cheers as they swam towards shore, followed soon by Krum and Hermione.

Fleur was pacing the shore anxiously as the clock ticked on.

“We have now well past  the one hour limit!” Ludo Baggman stood up and turned to the crowd as the four wet figures were handed warm towels. “If Harry Potter emerges he will be docked points-”

“Look!” Fred cried from where he was standing on his seat.

Three heads had emerged from the lake. As Emile squinted she recognized Harry, Ron and a silver haired girl. Seaweed green heads were popping up around them as the trio swam to shore, accompanied by loud cheers from the crowd.  Harry and Ron helped the silver haired girl out of the water.

Fleur was going ballistic on the shore, fighting to return to the water.

“Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ’urt?”

As soon as the trio emerged from the lake she was the first to ran forward, embracing the little girl, her sister apparently. Harry and Ron were swamped by a large group of people, and the crowd sat by since they could do nothing but wait for the results.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. . . .”

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

Emile cheered along with the crowd for her cousin, a small rush of pride going through her.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

The audience sheered loudly. Now the two Hogwarts champions were tied for first place.

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

With that Madame Pomfrey began herding the champions and their hostages in the direction of the castle, Leaving the rest of the students to follow behind.

Soon it was March, and somewhat milder weather came with it. The day of the March Hogsmeade trip was very warm, and Emile regretted wearing her trenchcoat as they reached the outskirts of the village.

She spent the day wandering around the familiar stores with Fred, George and Angelina. Though they had invited Lee, he had insisted that he already made plans with one of the Ravenclaw prefects.

“He can’t avoid us forever,” Angelina muttered as they watched Lee awkwardly walk by with a group of Ravenclaw’s.

Emile shrugged and ran into Honeydukes, which had just introduced donuts. Emile helped herself to a jam filled one as Fred and George dragged them back out into the street towards Zonkos.

“We’ve been making notes about what draws people to this place,” Fred said as they were shoved into the store.

“And we could use a consumer's opinion.” George pulled out a notebook and the pen Emile had given him as he spoke.

“Well,” Emile shared a bemused look with Angelina. “It’s very big.”

“It’s very colorful,” Angelina added.

“It’s a joke shop,” they said in unison, high fiving each other.

“So much for them believing in us,” George shook his head at Fred, who gave an exasperated sigh.

“Guys look at it this way,” Emile put her arms around the boy’s shoulder, with some difficulty because they were much taller than her. “You two are some of the most popular people in Gryffindor. People like you and what you do. So don’t try to copy what someone else does,and just do you.”
“Yes, Guru Emile.” Fred bowed to her.

“Do we have to pay you for your wisdom?” George teased, tickling Emile in the side.

“My wisdom is both a blessing, and a curse,” she said dramatically.

Angelina laughed along with the twins, and the group headed up to the castle for dinner.

Chapter Text

Emile was called to the Diggory manor for Easter holiday’s. Uncle Amos came to pick her and Cedric up from Hogsmeade station, and took them back to the manor by side along apparation.

“Emile I have some upsetting news,” He said a bit hesitantly, sitting her down on a sofa.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, handing it over to her and leaving the room, his head in his hands.

Mr. Amos Diggory,

It is our task to regretfully inform you that prisoner number 35813, Peter Gorski, has passed away whilst in the vicinity. The autopsy informed us that he passed away in his sleep, suddenly. No poisons were found in his blood. As he was a man in good health, this development has shocked many of the people here.

Please come as soon as time permits to pick up the body of your deceased family member.

Sincerest Apologies,

Warden Warren Jenson

Emile stared at the paper, reading it over several times. Another paper was behind it, containing information of the autopsy. As the letter stated, there was no information of how someone could have died.

“You alright kiddo?” Uncle Amos came back in with Cedric and a large bowl of chocolate pudding.

“Yes, it hasn’t sunk in yet,” Emile grabbed the bowl from her Uncle and began to eat the pudding as fast as she could. Barely halfway through the bowl she began to cry, tears slowly falling into the chocolate.

“H-here t-t-take it-t-t,” she sobbed as she handed the bowl back to her Uncle, sobbing.

Cedric sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, sobbing harder still.

That evening, Emile sent a wet piece of parchment to Hogwarts.

Hey guys,

I’m at the Diggory manor. Turns out my father mysteriously died in the night. We’re having the funeral Sunday, I’ll be back in school monday evening.

Emile Victoria Gorska

P.S. someone feed Carrot while I’m gone, I completely forgot about her

The next day, Wednesday, Emile went with Mr. Diggory to get her father’s body.

“This him?” The guard grunted tactlessly, opening up the box her father was in.

After a moment of silence, Mr. Diggory nodded and got to filling out a pile of paperwork the guard presented him with. Emile stood staring at the frozen, unmoving body. If it wasn’t for how pale the skin was, he could have been sleeping. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she began to notice the scars on his body that hadn’t been there before.

Over the next few days, members of Emile’s extended family on her father’s side began to arrive for the funeral. Many tears were shed as Emile was reunited with her old cousins. Sunday morning she woke up to find Alex, her American cousin, and his parents in the parlor.

“Emile!” Her cousin ran over and hugged her tightly. “How are you holding up?”

“I miss him,” Emile smiled as he took a step back so that his parents could greet her too.

“We all do, sweetheart,” His mother, Vivian cooed as she drew Emile in tightly for a hug.

The funeral was a solemn affair. A total of eighty nine people showed up, all related in some way or another. Emile’s great grandpa had had eight siblings, and her grandpa had twelve, so there were a lot of people who had carried on the family name.

Emile cried throughout the whole thing, Cedric standing next to her for emotional support. Her father’s will stated that he wished to be cremated, and that his ashes were to be placed in a bio-urn so that what was left of him could become a tree.

After the funeral, a lot of the family members left, but around twenty stayed for a dinner party before leaving.

“I never thought I would be alone,” Emile sighed as she took Alex to the stables, eager to see Nepeta.

“You aren’t alone, you have your cousin, and those friends of yours at that boarding school you go to,” Alex said, stroking Nepeta’s nose.

Emile remained silent for a moment longer, before letting out a long sigh.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Monday morning Emile was woken up early by Mr. Diggory. They were to go down to a lawyer’s office so that Emile could claim what her father had left her.

“To make it easy for you to understand, Miss Gorska, your father left you your family car, all of his belongings and his life’s savings,” the lawyer, a strict looking woman who smelled strongly of hairspray, lowered her glasses as she looked Emile in the eyes. Emile swallowed, focusing hard on not crying.

“I will need you to sign a few documents regarding your claim over these items. Do you have a driver’s license?”

“No, I was planning on getting one this summer,” Emile said quietly as she took one of the fancy pens from a small jar on the desk and signed the documents.

“I suggest you do that. And when you do, come back into the office with your uncle and we can take care of the matter with the car, completely. Until then it remains in the hands of your Uncle.”

Emile smiled for the first time in a week as Mr. Diggory turned white at the prospect of driving a car.

They left the office at noon, going into a side alley before apparating back to the manor. Cedric was waiting for them by the fireplace, impatiently tapping his feet.

“Did it go well?” Mrs. Diggory called from down the hall as Emile walked over to Cedric.

“It went fine, dear. I’m sending these two back to school.” He turned to the two of them, a serious expression on his face. “We’ll be visiting in June to watch the final task. Take care of yourself until then Emile. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
“I’ll see you later, Cedric,” Uncle Amos hugged the two of them before handing them the decorative urn filled with floo powder.

“If we hurry we can make it in time for lunch,” Cedric grinned as he walked into the Emerald Green flames.

Emile gave her uncle one last hug before following Cedric, yelling “Hogwarts!” as she entered the fire.

A moment later, she spun out of the fire and into the great hall where Cedric was waiting for her. He gave her a quick hug before heading off to the Hufflepuff table. Emile went over to where she saw Fred and George sitting with Angelina and Alicia.

“Emile!” Angelina smiled widely as she joined them at the table, sitting in between Angelina and George. “Good to see you.”
“Snape will be pissed you missed potions but turned up for Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Fred mumbled around a mouthful of garlic bread.

“I doubt it,” Emile said, forcing a small smile. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the beginning of the year.”

“And now you’re treated like the rest of us Gryffindors, good for you,” Alicia commented.

“Here, this is from our mother,” George passed Emile an Easter Egg the size of a Dragon Egg, full of homemade toffee.

“Thank your mother for me,” Emile said, forcing a larger smile on her face before letting it slowly fade away. She listened in silence to the gossip the four of them talked about, occasionally laughing along with the group. When they headed up to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Emile was simply glad no one noticed that she hadn’t eaten dinner.

“Gorska, a word,” Mad Eye barked the moment she entered the room.

Emile went over to the Professor’s desk, her hands in her pockets.

“First off, you aren’t in your robes,” he grunted, his magical eye looking her up and down disapprovingly. “Second off, I heard about your father. Your Uncle informed Dumbledore while I was there, and if it isn’t too harsh to speak my mind I wanted to tell you this sounds an awful lot like the work of a death eater.”

Emile gawked at the Professor. “You’re mad,” she snapped. “Of course it isn’t why would a death eater want to kill my father?”

“To get to you.” Both of his eyes held eye contact with Emile as he said these words.

“Why would they do that? I’m no use to them!” Emile was shouting now, blissfully aware of the class watching her. “You’re a crazy old man, I don’t need to stand here and listen to you lecture me with some insane story about how my father died!”

Emile stormed out of the room, aware of the Professor calling after her. She stomped to the seventh floor and paced back and forth for a moment.

I need a place to let off some steam.

I need a place where I can scream.

I need a place to hide.

A small door had appeared in front of her. Emile pushed open the door, surprised to find it much heavier. The entire space was once big, soundproof area with a punching bag in the middle.

Emile set down her schoolbooks by the door and took off her thick sweater, standing in front of the punching bag in just her jeans and a tanktop.

She stood in front of the bag, thinking. After a moment she punched the bag, surprised that it didn’t swing back. She began to punch harder, and harder. Emile was

“This is for taking away my father,” she yelled, hitting the bag with her right arm.

“This is for allowing Mad Eye Moody to get,” punch, “on,” punch, “our, ”punch, “nerves.”

Emile punched the bag so hard it flew backwards. After fifteen minutes or so of violent attacks, she curled up in the corner and sobbed into her bleeding hands.

“Why would you leave me?” She said over and over, until her voice has hoarse and she couldn’t cry anymore.

Emile curled up on the floor, stone faced. Her scar suddenly let out a flash of pain, but all Emile did was wince and close her eyes, enduring the pain as a vision came into focus. She was looking over the marauders map, and she felt very angry.

Where is she?

The thought echoed in her head, becoming more and more angry. Emile threw the map across the room, and stared down at her hands, taking a swing of the potion.

Emile sat up with a start. She had heard about visions like these before. Harry had gotten them before facing you-know-who in his first year. But why would she get them? She wasn’t anything special.

Emile lay on the floor, thinking, for what felt like hours. Maybe it had been hours, she didn’t know. Her hands were stinging and caked with dry blood. She couldn’t bear the pain any longer. She hesitantly got up and grabbed her pouch, leaving the room. She could see the sun setting out the window as she headed to the infirmary.

“Merlin’s beard, Emile!” Madame Pomfrey cried the moment she entered the room.

Emile sat down on one of the beds as the nurse rushed around the room, gathering various items.

“Now lie down and don’t move, I’ll have you out of here in an hour.”

An hour later Emile’s hands were bandaged tightly and she was sipping warm milk, honey, and calming draught through a straw.

“Now when you get back to your room, I want you to go to sleep immediately. When you wake up in the morning those hands should be good as new!” Madame Pomfrey chirped as Emile finished drinking..

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey. And I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Emile smiled and stood up from the bed.

“It’s no inconvenience dear, it’s my job.”

The common room was mostly empty by the time Emile got there. A few fifth years were anxiously finishing an essay for Snape in the corner, Emile heard them mumbling about polyjuice potion as she passed by.

Instead of heading to bed, Emile sat down by the fire and took off her bandages, watching the magic slowly heal her hands. She didn’t want to sleep. Now whenever she slept she would dream of her father. Some dreams were good and some were bad. The good dreams varied, they were often various memories from her childhood. But the bad dream was always the same. Her father, beaten and bloodied. A strange visitor in the night. A flash of green.

A flash of green.

Avada Kedavra.

“Moody was onto something, I remember it so clearly. It’s like I was there.”

Angelina stared at Emile as they headed down to breakfast the next day. “It was just a dream, Emile.”
“This was different!” Emile argued as they sat down at the Great Hall.

“Ok, it was different. You can’t do anything to prove it,” Angelina mumbled around a mouthful of egg.

“Eat some breakfast,” she said after she had swallowed.

“I’m not hungry,” Emile sighed and pulled out the borrowed potions book from the library.

Angelina sighed and took some bacon as Emile began to read about Amorentia.

Throughout the week, Emile ate only three times. She barely slept. Even though she thought she was fine, her friends had started to grow very concerned.

It started on Friday when Emile was talking to Lee in the space by the library, only for Lee to come in and sit down next to Lee. Emile had started yelling at Lee for being an imposter and saying that she wouldn’t go down as easily as her father. She ran out of the library, leaving Lee in a full body bind.

“You need to sleep, you’re beginning to hallucinate,” Angelina said, distracting Emile as Fred came up from behind her and knocked her out.

Emile woke up several hours later on one of the sofas in the common room. George was asleep next to her. A pale dawn light was flooding the common room, giving everything a somewhat rosy complexion.

“Happy May day,” Emile said to herself as she stretched.

“You’re awake, thank Merlin,” George yawned next to her. “Are you feeling better?”

“I didn’t dream,” Emile stared at George oddly. “Where you here the whole time?”

“We’ve been taking shifts,” George shrugged.

Emile hugged George, grateful for her friends. She had to move on, and she now knew there was people there for her.

“They’re giving Apparation lessons in the great hall today, are you going?”  He asked after a moment.

“Of course,” Emile said before yawning. “Blimey, I should go change into my robes.”

“Yeah I should go do that too,”George got up hesitantly and the two went their separate ways.

That afternoon a large group of sixth years was gathered in the great hall. The house tables had been moved and wooden hoops were scattered all over the floor. A small Wizard from the  ministry was standing in front of the room along with the heads of houses.

“Good morning,” said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. “My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests,” Twycross said with a look around the room.

“As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.”

“I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you.”

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshaling them into position and breaking up arguments.

Emile stood in between Angelina and George, Fred and Alicia in front of them. They were all exchanging nervous smiles.

“Thank you,” said Twycross. “Now then . . .The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D’s!” said Twycross. “Destination, Determination, Deliberation!”

“Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination,” said Twycross. “In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now.”

Everybody looked around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told.

“Step two,” said Twycross, “focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!”

Emile focused hard on getting into the hoop, staring fervently at the circle of wood in front of her.

“Step three,” called Twycross, “and only when I give the command . . . Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation! On my command, now . . . one —”

Emile glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.

“— two —” Emile fixed her thoughts on the hoop again; she had already forgotten what the three D’s stood for. “— THREE!”

Emile spun on the spot, lost balance, and nearly fell over. She was not the only one. Fred had done sort of a ballerina leap into the hoop, and was looking very pleased with himself until he noticed George and Lee laughing at him from the floor.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. “Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions. . . .”

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, so see one of Cedric’s Hufflepuff friends wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal her sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.

“Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,” said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, “occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continuously upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation . . . thus.”

Twycross stepped forward, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched, and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall.

“Remember the three D’s,” he said, “and try again . . . one — two — three —”

But an hour later, the Splinching was still the most interesting thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said,

“Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation.”

With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving toward the entrance hall.

The next weekend Emile managed to splinch herself, and had to sit out of the rest of the class. She had apparated into the hoop, but left her feet behind.

“Look at it this way, most of you has got the hang of Apparating already!” Fred said encouragingly as they headed up to the common room afterwards.

Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult as ever, though a few more people had managed to Splinch themselves. Frustration was running high and there was a certain amount of ill feeling toward Wilkie Twycross and his three D’s, which had inspired a number of nicknames for him, the politest of which were Dogbreath and Dunghead.

By the fourth lesson Emile had successfully apparated into the wooden hoop. Delighted, she showed off the skill to Angelina by apparating back out of her hoop.

When the day gave to go down to Hogsmeade to test for their apparating license, Emile  was ecstatic. Angelina, Fred, and George all went down with her. Lee wasn’t seventeen yet, so he remained behind at the castle with Alicia.

“How did you do?” George asked anxiously as she came out of the testing room, clutching a roll of parchment.

“You passed, of course,” Angelina said, taking the parchment from her, unrolling it. “You passed!”

After a small round of hugging Emile went off to get her license, grinning widely. She still had to get her driver’s license this summer. A pang went through her as she thought of the family car, a yellow Volkswagen bug. Soon it would be her car.

She sat by the door, clutching her apparating license in her hands as memories of the car and her father flooded back. Soon Cedric sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“I really miss him,” Emile whispered to her cousin.

“I know you do. But remember that you’ll always have me,” he said comfortingly.

Fred, George, and Angelina all got their licenses. After the whole group was done they went to the Three Broomsticks for a celebratory Butterbeer. Fred abused his new power that was being an of age wizard, and ordered a firewhiskey shot in his butterbeer. He had a lot of fun being carried back to the castle by his brother.

As they sat in the common room, happily talking about their licenses, Emile’s neck began to burn again. She closed her eyes, anticipating a vision.

She was burying a bone, her hands digging deep in the ground that Hagrid’s nifflers had recently dug up. She had to do it quickly, no one could know about this. There would be questions.

“Emile?”

George’s whisper in her ear brought her back to the present. No one else seemed to have noticed what was happening. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He gave an unconvincing smile back.

Chapter Text

Soon it was time for the final exams. The grounds had never looked more inviting, but Emile stayed in the library, studying. She only allowed herself free time after dinner, she was determined to pass every single one of her NEWT classes with an E.

The third task was to take place immediately following the exams. George told her that Ron heard from Harry it was to be a Maze, and the triwizard cup was to be hidden in the center of it.

“So, more sitting around and waiting for us?” Emile had said, causing Fred to spit out  his pumpkin juice and groan.

“Anticlimactic,” Angelina had grumbled, her arms crossed.

“How did it go?” George’s voice interrupted Emile’s thoughts, bringing her back to the common room..

“Fine, I think. I messed up in identifying one of the traits of Amorentia. I didn’t identify the smell correctly.” Emile sighed as fell back onto the sofa. “Instead of writing that its smell is whatever each individual person is attracted to I wrote what I smelled.”

“What do you smell?” He asked mischievously as he sat down next to her.

“Sage, Lemongrass, and Foxcrest scented Old Spice.”

George pulled something out of his pocket. “So the scent you got me?”

“I said you would smell good, didn’t I?” Emile sat up and winked at George as Fred walked over.

“Well if you two need privacy then don’t let me interrupt!” He cried out, turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

“Miss Gorska!” Emile jumped up at the sound of Professor McGonagall’s voice.

“Miss Gorska, I am to inform you that tomorrow after breakfast the Champions families will be gathering in the side chamber by the Great Hall. Seeing that you are finished with your exams and related to Mr. Diggory you may join.”

Professor McGonagall left as quickly as she appeared.

“Might as well go,” Emile shrugged before heading to bed for the night.

The next day she was waiting in the side chamber with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory when Mrs. Weasley and Bill came into the room.

“Emile!” Mrs. Weasley ran over and enveloped her in a hug. “Are you doing alright, dear?”

“I’ve been alright,” Emile gave a small smile as Mrs. Weasley let go.

Bill gave her a small side hug before letting go. At that moment Cedric, Fleur, and Krum came into the room.

“Cedric my boy!” Mr. Diggory boomed, patting his son on the back. Mrs. Diggory didn’t say anything, just embraced her son tightly.

“Emile, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Cedric cried dramatically, embracing her tightly.

“It’s been way too long!” She said as she squeezed him back.

“Where’s Harry?” Mrs. Weasley said, looking around.

“Probably in the hall, he didn’t think anyone would visit him,” Emile said with a smile as Cedric went to fetch the fourth year.

When Harry came in Emile’s attention was drawn to Fluer. Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother’s hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning.

As Harry walked over to the two Weasleys Mrs. Weasley beamed at him.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“You all right?” said Bill, grinning at Harry and shaking his hand. “Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.”

Fleur Delacour, Emile noticed, kept eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother’s shoulder. Emile tried to hide the smile growing on her face as Bill eyed her back.

Emile returned to her family members, listening to her Uncle boast about his son and give advice about the upcoming task.

“There you are, are you?” he said, looking Harry up and down as he passed them with the Weasley’s.

“Bet you’re not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric’s caught you up on points, are you?”

“What?” said Harry.

“Ignore him,” said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. “He’s been

angry ever since Rita Skeeter’s article about the Triwizard Tournament — you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion.”

“Didn’t bother to correct her, though, did he?” said Amos Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he started to walk out of the door with Mrs. Weasley and Bill. “Still . . . you’ll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven’t you?”

“Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily. “I would have thought you’d know that, working at the Ministry!”

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away. Emile smiled apologetically at Harry and Mrs. Weasley as they left the room.

At lunchtime Emile sat With Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Fred, George, and Ginny. They were having a good time until Hermione joined the group.

“Hello, Hermione,” said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.

“Hello,” said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face.

Harry looked at the two of them before tentatively saying “Mrs. Weasley, you didn’t believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh!” said Mrs. Weasley. “No — of course I didn’t!” But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that.

“Your mother reads Witch Weekly?” Emile asked George as they followed Harry and Mrs. Weasley out of the Great Hall. He rolled his eyes in response.

The feast that night was worth the several hour wait. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Emile thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There was more courses than usual. Emile stuffed herself with cornish pastie, escargot, and Tarator, which was a cold Bulgarian soup. For dessert there were eclairs, cakes, and piles of pumpkin pasties.  

As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

Emile ran up to her cousin, giving him a hug. “Don’t die, okay?”

“A bit of faith in me would be nice,” He teased as she let go. Emile gave a weak smile as she watched him turn the corner before returning to the dinner table.

“He’ll be fine,” Mrs. Weasley kept saying as they themselves headed down to the field several minutes later. Emile sat behind her and Bill near the front. Angelina was on her right and George was on her left.

The stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” said Professor McGonagall to the champions. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

The champions nodded.

Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, “Sonorus,” and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

“So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said Bagman. “Three — two — one —” He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

The crowd cheered as the Hogwarts champions disappeared into the darkness, soon followed by Krum and then Fleur. Soon there was nothing they could do but sit and wait.

“Want some?” George mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn as he passed the bag down to Emile and Angelina.

“How do you still have room?” Emile asked as Angelina pushed the bag back.

“I’m a growing boy, Em. I can’t help what my body want’s.”

At that moment an ear splitting scream sounded from inside the maze, causing Emile and a majority of the audience to jump. She felt her scar burn again, she was so angry, it hadn’t worked. Potter just couldn’t stay out of the way, self righteous people were horrible.

“It’s alright, that sounded like Fleur. Harry’s fine,” the sound of Hermione soothing Mrs. Weasley brought Emile back to the present.

Not ten minutes later red sparks were seen flying up from the maze, hovering in the air above wherever the Champion who sent them up was.

“It’s anticlimactic, but the suspense is killing me,” Angelina said jokingly beside Emile.

“I bet something a lot worst then suspense is doing some killing about now,” Fred muttered from the other side of George.

Emile shivered as she stared at the hedge, her body rigid as a statue. She wished she had Mad Eye Moody’s magical eye; no doubt he was tracking the champions moves through the hedge.

It could have been days. It could have been mere seconds. But it was no more than an hour later that the famous Harry Potter came stumbling out of the maze with Cedric, clutching the triwizard cup. Fleur and Krum, who had been rescued by teachers earlier, clapped from the sideline along with the rest of the crowd.

Fleur let out a sudden scream as Cedric and Harry lay unmoving on the ground.

“Get me down there-out of my way- CEDRIC!” Emile’s Uncle was pushing his way through the crowded stands to where the two bodies were lying on the ground. Madame Pomfrey had rushed forward along with Professor Moody and Professor Dumbledore.

“Let me through!” Emile stood up and began to push through the crowd along with her Uncle.

“Emile, don’t!” George tried to grab her, but the flood of people in between them was growing larger.

“He’s dead!” “He’s dead!” “Cedric Diggory! Dead!”

Emile was sobbing now as she helped Mrs. Diggory through the crowd after her husband.

“He’s not dead!” She said through tears. “He isn’t dead, he can’t be dead.”

He was dead. Amos Diggory was crying as he cradled his son’s body, soon joined by his wife. Emile was sitting a few feet away, sobbing. Several people stepped on her and kicked her as the crowd surged around them like a confused swarm of bee’s. Emile was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t respond. Her entire body was shaking with every sob leaving her as she stared at her cousin’s body.
“You can’t leave me too! You said you couldn’t die! You can’t leave me too!” Emile was yelling at Cedric, as she grabbed his arm and shook it.

“Emile, Emile dear come with me,” Madame Pomfrey was soothing her as she led her towards Mrs. Weasley, who was standing at the edge of the crowd. The older woman wrapped her arms around Emile as she sobbed into her shoulder.

“Take her to the infirmary.”

Emile was vaguely aware of Madame Pomfrey’s demand as Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arm around Emile and gently guided her towards the castle.

“There you go dear, now climb these stairs here. Blast my memory, I don’t know where the infirmary is,” Mrs. Weasley was muttering as she led Emile into the castle.

“G-go up the m-m-main stairwell-l,” Emile spluttered, happy when Mrs. Weasley remembered where to go from there.

Emile lay down on one of the infirmary beds by the window, staring out across the black lake as her crying slowed to a stop.

“Are you feeling better?” Mrs. Weasley asked gently, wrapping Emile in a blanket.

“No,” Emile whispered, her eyes beginning to tear up again. Silent tears slid down her cheeks until she eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

Emile woke with a start as her scar began to pulse with pain.

“Help!” She cried out, writhing in her bed.

If anyone came to her aid she didn’t know; she had been transported into the mind of her captor.

“I don’t want to talk!” Emile was vaguely aware of herself yelling as she saw through another person’s eyes, heard through another person’s ears.

“Can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked quietly, mere inches away from her face.

Yes,” She muttered.

“I would like you to tell us,” said Dumbledore softly, “how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?”

“My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother’s hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other’s appearance.”

Winky was shaking her head, trembling.

“Say no more, Master Barty, say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!”

“The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors.

“My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.”

“And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?” said Dumbledore quietly.

“Staged my mother’s death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master . . . of returning to his service.”

“How did your father subdue you?” said Dumbledore.

“The Imperius Curse,” Emile whispered. “I was under my father’s control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior.”

“Master Barty, Master Barty,” sobbed Winky through her hands. “You isn’t ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble. . . .”

“Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?” said Dumbledore softly. “Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?”

“Yes,” said Emile, her eyelids flickering. “A witch in my father’s office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father’s signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she’d found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently.”

“Why is she coming to nose into my master’s private business?” sobbed Winky. “Why isn’t she leaving us be?”

“Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,” said Dumbledore.

“Winky talked my father into it,” said Crouch, still in the same monotonous voice. “She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end.”

“It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know.”

“But Winky didn’t know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father’s Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boy’s pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn’t know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden.”

“Master Barty, you bad boy!” whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers.

“So you took the wand,” said Dumbledore, “and what did you do with it?”

“We went back to the tent,” said Crouch. “Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.”

“Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned.” Emile let out somewhat of a laugh.

“When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.”

Winky let out a wail of despair.

“Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then . . . and then . . .” Emile’s head rolled on her neck, and an insane grin spread across her face. “My master came for me. “He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.”

“It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years.”

“And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” said Dumbledore.

“He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first —”

“You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.

“Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody’s double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody’s clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boomslang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it.”

“And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?” said Dumbledore.

“Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father’s house, and to keep watch over my father.”

“But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore.

“Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.”

“My master sent me word of my father’s escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything.”

“Map?” said Dumbledore quickly. “What map is this?”

“Potter’s map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape’s office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

“For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father.”

“Noooo!” wailed Winky. “Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?”

“You killed your father,” Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. “What did you do with the body?”

“Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.”

“Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father’s body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father’s body. He became a bone . . . I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid’s cabin.”

There was complete silence now, except for Winky’s continued sobs. Then Dumbledore said, “And tonight . . .”

“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,” whispered Emile. “Turned it into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards.”

“EMILE!” An extremely bright light was shining into her eyes. Emile sat up with a start, waving her hands through the air.

“Someone hold her down!” That was Madame Pomfrey.

“I’m very sorry about this,” Bill’s voice sounded in her ear as he pinned her to the ground until she stopped trying to escape.

“Emile, are you back?” Mrs. Weasley asked somewhat hesitantly.

“Back from where? I’ve been here the whole time, haven’t I?” Emile felt another tear slide down her face.”Oh no, it happened again!”

“What did?” Madame Pomfrey asked, bewildered as Emile began to sob again.

At that moment, Severus Snape came into the room.

“Madame Pomfrey, if you aren’t too busy the headmaster needs you to go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room with me to fetch an injured personnel,” he said looking around the room.

Emile momentarily made eye contact with the potions master through her tears, but looked away quickly.

“Severus, you’re more knowledgeable of the dark arts then I am, perhaps you could take a look at Miss Gorska while I leave for a moment?” Madame Pomfrey didn’t wait for a response, she was already out the door of the hospital wing.

“As much as I would love to help I’m afraid the headmaster asked me to fetch the Minister of Magic from the grounds,” Professor Snape sniffed.

“I can fetch him, you can take a quick look to see if it’s something you know about,” Bill stood up and left the room as quickly as Madame Pomfrey.

“Seeing as though I have no choice,” Snape let out a sigh and put his head in his hands. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We aren’t sure exactly,” Mrs. Weasley said cautiously as Snape walked over to Emile.

“Well, I can’t diagnose something if you don’t know anything about it,” he seethed, crouching down next to where Emile was drying her tears.

“It’s that scar of hers,” George’s voice sounded behind Snape as he came into the room, followed by Fred.

“We’ve been listening for a few minutes,” Fred said, sitting down next to his mother.

“What scar?” Snape asked dryly.

“This scar?” Emile pulled down the scarf around her neck to reveal the pink zigzag going down on one side of her neck.

“Emile how many other scars have you gotten recently?” Fred attempted to lighten the mood but received an angry pinch from his mother.

“A cursed scar,” Snape said thoughtfully. “Tell me, Miss Gorska, did you receive this at the Quidditch World Cup?”

“Unfortunately,” Emile sniffed and wiped her nose.

“Do you remember anything about the death eater who did this?”

Emile frowned as she thought back to nine months ago. “I don’t, I mean, I’m trying to. But it’s like the memories blocked out, every time I think about it, it hurts.”
“The scar?” Snape was frowning at her.

“No, my toenails. Of course the scar!” Emile seethed and grabbed her neck as a flash of pain came from it.

“I’ve brought the minister!” Bill ran into the room with Cornelius Fudge.

“Out of my way!” Madame Pomfrey yelled behind them as she came in with Mad Eye Moody floating on a stretcher behind her.

“I’ll be back later,” Snape turned away and left the room, beckoning for the Minister to follow him.

Mrs. Weasley helped Emile into a hospital bed and left her with Fred and George as she went to talk to Ron and Hermione, who had just ran into the room. Madame Pomfrey was looking after Professor Moody, who was in a terrible state for someone whom had looked fine less than an hour ago.

As soon as the nurse had finished what she was doing, drawing the curtains around Mad Eye Moody, the Weasley family was on her, demanding to know where Harry was. At that moment, Professor Dumbledore strode in with the young champion and triwizard tournament winner and a large black dog.

Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. “Harry! Oh Harry!”

She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.

“Molly,” he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron,� Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, “Did you hear? He needs quiet!”

“Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog, “may I ask what — ?”

“This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you get into bed.”

“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” He left.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked as he passed Mad Eye Moody.

“He’ll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him.

As Harry fell asleep a few beds down, Emile did the same, holding George’s hand.

She woke half an hour later with a start. Her scar was burning.

“Can’t breathe,” she whispered as she felt the warmth draining out of her.

What was that thing? It looked an awful lot like a Dementor, but it’s hood was lowered. It had a terrible gaping black hole for a mouth. Emile could see something silver being sucked into it.

I can sense you poking around in my head.

Wow, who is this?

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

Are you the one who’s been poking around my head all school year?

Emile, it’s you who’ve been poking around mine.

How do you know my name?

I’ve been teaching you all school year, disguised as that nutty auror Mad Eye Moody.

Oh. I remember now, so I wasn’t hallucinating when you confessed to Dumbledore?

I took a page out of my master’s book and created a Horcrux, now I can’t die.

I don’t know why you’re telling me this.

You’re bright, figure it out on your own. This dementor is sucking my soul out of my body, soon most of my conscious self will be gone, except for the bit I’ve hidden inside you.

You’re insane.

I just want to please someone in life. If my father wouldn’t appreciate me then I’d go to someone who would. It’ll be nice talking to you over the course of your entire life,or until I get set free.

Or killed.

In order to kill me, you’d have to kill yourself. I can see inside your mind, Emile Victoria Gorska. I can see that the one thing you would never be able to do, is kill yourself.

Chapter Text

Emile was lying on the floor. It was very cold. She tentatively opened one eye to see George and Angelina staring down at her, tears on their face. Fred had his arms around Angelina.

“Did someone die?” Emile croaked weakly, attempting to sit up.

“Emile!” Angelina wrapped her arms around her.

“Well, we thought you died, you know. Just now,” Fred stared at her.

“You were so cold, and your heart stopped,” George wrapped his arm around her too.

“Quiet!” Mrs. Weasley hissed from where she was sitting with Harry, still.

Yelling was coming from down the hall. Emile struggled to her feet, supported by George, and hobbled over to where Harry was lying. He had just woken up, and was blinking sleepily around the group.

“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up!” “What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” she whispered. “And that’s Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it? But what are they arguing about?”

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —” Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out —”

The hospital doors swung open. The two arguing adults came in, arguing loudly and causing the people in the wing to stare at them.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

“He’s not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a hospital wing, Minister, don’t you think you’d do better to —”

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —”

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

Professor Snape swept into the room, his arms crossed.

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” said Snape, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —”

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —”

“My dear woman!” roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Emille had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —”

But Professor McGonagall’s voice drowned Fudge’s.

“The moment that — that thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and — and —”  

Emile remembered the silver light.

Did it hurt?

Did what hurt?

When they sucked out your soul?

Of course it did, what kind of question is that?

“It sucked out your soul,” she whispered, half to herself.

“What?” George looked at her, confused.

“By all accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!”

You’ve got that right, you old coot.

Merlin’s beard do you ever shut up?

I’m in your head. Not like I’ll have anyone else to talk to.

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.”

“Why he killed them? Well, that’s no mystery, is it?” blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

“You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore . . .”

This conversation is really touching, I never knew I was so important to all of these people.

You weren’t until you began to kill people off.

That’s besides the point.

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” said Dumbledore, “we heard Barry Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”

“See here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, and Emile was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you — you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now . . . certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who’s orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore . . .”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” said Dumbledore steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.”

“I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.”

Yeah you tell that old badger off, Dumbledore.

Fudge’s curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are — er — prepared to take Harry’s word on this, are you, Dumbledore?”

The silence that followed Fudge’s words was broken by the deep growl of the black dog by Harry.

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering. “

You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who . . . well . . .”

Fudge shot Harry another look.

“You’ve been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” Harry said quietly.

Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

“And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I have discovered that you’ve been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place —”

“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore coolly.

“You admit that he has been having these pains, then?” said Fudge quickly. “Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?”

“Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable  sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous.”

I wish I could look at you, because if I could I would stare through whatever’s left of your soul.

Well now you have an idea about what could be up with Harry.

Why would Voldemort make the person he want’s to kill a horcrux?

You bring up a good point.

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn. “You’ll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I’ve never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. . . .”

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —”

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape’s eyes flew back to Fudge.

“Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A very old family — donations to excellent causes —”

“Macnair!” Harry continued.

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!”

“Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —”

“You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven’s sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you’re still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he’s trustworthy?”

“You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!”

Emile winced as she thought of her cousin.

Sorry about that, but the good, self righteous people just get in the way sometimes.

So am I just going to have a constant, nagging voice in my head now?

Pretty much.

“I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!”

“He’s a lunatic,” Fred muttered to George, who nodded in agreement.

“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated. “If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors —”

“Preposterous!” shouted Fudge again. “Remove the dementors? I’d be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!”

“The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort’s most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!” said Dumbledore. “They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hardpressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!”

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage

“The second step you must take — and at once,” Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the giants.”

“Envoys to the giants?” Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. “What madness is this?”

This guy is hilarious, look at him. He’s in the depths of denial.

Dear lord.

“Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late,” said Dumbledore, “or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!”

“You — you cannot be serious!” Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. “If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career —”

“You are blinded,” said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!”

“Insane,” whispered Fudge, still backing away. “Mad . . .”

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry’s bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs. �Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Emile, Angelina, Fred, George, Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge.

“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit.”

Dumbledore’s voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

“Now, see here, Dumbledore,” he said, waving a threatening finger. “I’ve given you free rein, always. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you’re going to work against me —”

“The only one against whom I intend to work,” said Dumbledore, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be . . .”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can� still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said.

He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape’s arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . .”

Wow, rude.

I know, right?

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry’s bed.

“There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly . . . am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?”

“Of course you can,” said Mrs. Weasley.

She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute.

“We know what Fudge is. It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” said Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius.”

“I’ll go to Dad,” said Bill, standing up. “I’ll go now.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry —”

“Leave it to me,” said Bill. He kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

“Minerva,” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime.” Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us.”

“Very — very well,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Emile looked around the group of mainly students in the hospital wing now.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.

“And now,” he said, “it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form.”

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man. Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It’s okay!”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror. “Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?”

“He is here at my invitation,” said Dumbledore, looking between them, “as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.” Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

“I will settle, in the short term,” said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us.”

Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

“That will do to be going on with,” said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. “Now I have work for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupins for a while; I will contact you there.”

“But —” said Harry.

You’ll see me very soon, Harry,” said Sirius, turning to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah . . . of course I do.”

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Where is Snape headed off to?

What makes you think I would know?

He’s quite fond of you, says you’re the best Gryffindor he’s seen in a long time.

He’s been ignoring me all year. Besides, it’s not like students have intimate conversations with their teachers.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again. “I must go downstairs,” he said finally.

“I must see the Diggory’s. Harry — take the rest of your potion. Miss Emile, come with me. I will see all of you later.”

Emile followed Dumbledore as he swept out of the room.

“Professor, did Snape tell you about my scar?” Emile asked as she left the room.

“Yes, he did. And I think by now we both know what it is, isn’t that right Miss Emile?” Professor Dumbledore was not smiling as the walked down the main staircase.

“A horcrux.”

Professor Dumbledore winced as she said this. “And has Bartemius said anything since he entered your head?”

“He was making some rather rude comments about Cornelius Fudge,” Emile began.

Tell him I’ve won.

Who says you’ve won? There’s probably still a way I can get rid of you, at the very least block you out.

Oh but Emile, what’s the fun in that? Besides, I was just starting to like you  .

“You’re talking to him now, aren’t you?” Professor Dumbledore interrupted the mental conversation.

Emile blushed, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Now you’re just communicating with the small voice in your head.” Professor Dumbledore stopped outside of the hallway leading down to the kitchen.

“There is a lot going on at the moment that I need to take care of, but I promise that as soon as possible I will send you information on what is going on inside your head, as well as several ways you can deal with it.”

Oh, boo.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Emile gave a weak smile.

“Good, then let us go speak with your Aunt and Uncle.”

Chapter Text

Emile spent the next few days crying on and off. She tried not to cry in public, but sometimes a tear would leak out, and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. Thankfully, the small voice in her head managed to keep a lid on it during times like these to the point that she almost forgot he was there at times.

The morning after his death she had gone with her Aunt and Uncle to talk to Harry. She knew the story, so she sat silently, holding her Aunt’s hand as it was recapped.They did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric’s body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory’s grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“He suffered very little then,” she said. “And after all, Amos . . . he died just when he’d won the tournament. He must have been happy.”

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, “You look after yourself, now.”

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

“You take this,” he muttered to her. “It should’ve been Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it —”

But Mrs. Diggory backed away from him.

“Oh no, it’s yours, dear, I couldn’t . . . you keep it.”

Many people were spreading nasty rumors about poor Harry. They seemed to believe the nasty article Rita Skeeter had written not long ago, about how he was a crazy teen going through a mental breakdown. All Horserubbish.

Emile was slowly getting used to having another voice in her head. Bartemius was somewhat nice, when he wasn’t raving about the dark lord and his plans.

She wasn’t looking forward to going home for the summer. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were having Cedric’s funeral the day after she got back, and Emile didn’t think she could bear being all alone with Mrs. Diggory all day while her husband was at work.

Fred and George had promised to ask their mother if she could come spend the summer with them which was something Emile would really look forward to. Apparently, there was a different plan.

The final day of term, mere hours before the closing feast, a nervous first year came into the sixth years dormitories with a note for Emile.

Miss Gorska,

Will you kindly come to my office upon receiving this message? Head to the statue of the stone gargoyle and simply tell it the name of your favorite candy.

Professor Albus Dumbledore

“Have fun, we’ll take the loft bed down for you!” Angelina called after her as she went out the the room, Carrot perched on her shoulder. It took Emile several minutes to locate the stone gargoyle statue.

She desperately wished she had the Marauder’s Map, but the twins had given it to Harry, who had given it to Bartemius Crouch Jr.

It’s in the office, I’ve said this before.

Alright then we’ll go get it after this meeting.

Turn right here, the statue is down that hall.

Why should I trust you?

I’m older than you, you ought to respect your superiors.

You’re nothing but a voice in my head. Oh, there’s the gargoyle.

See? I can be nice.

Emile rolled her eyes and smiled, despite her attempts not to.

“Chocolate Cauldron,” she said out loud, jumping as the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a hidden staircase.

I’d forgotten that I’ve been here before.

Yeah, no kidding.

It’s a bit weird to think that you have access to my memories.

You have access to mine too, you just need to figure out how to get to them.

Emile paused at the top of the steps, knocking on the wooden door.

“Come in!” Called the voice of the headmaster.

Emile cautiously opened the door and slid in, closing it carefully behind her. Professor Dumbledore beckoned her forward, to sit down in a chair across the desk from him next to the familiar figure of Professor Snape.

“She’s the horcrux?” A familiar voice said gruffly from behind Dumbledore. The real Mad Eye Moody limped out from behind Dumbledore’s chair, wooden leg thumping on the floor and magic eye whirling in his socket.

“Professor Moody, glad to see you’re alright,” Emile said.

He was never really a Professor, that was me. I made a darn good teacher too.

You scared most of the kids half to death.

I was still nicer than this lumox would have been.

“Stop talking to him, child,” Professor Moody glared at Emile.

“How did you know?”

“You began to make weird facial expressions. It’s obvious that you’re having a conversation in your head.” He growled, sitting down next to Dumbledore.

“Now Miss Emile, it is vital that you learn Occlumency to protect yourself from suffering a fate not too different from the one Ginny Weasley almost faced two years ago,” professor Dumbledore got straight to business.

“Occlumency?” Emile frowned, she knew she had heard that term somewhere but where.

I’ve heard it, not you.

You have?

The Dark Lord is exceptionally gifted in invading one’s mind with Legilimency. Many of us followers attempted to learn it from him, but we didn’t succeed. So instead we learned Occlumency to protect our minds in case someone from the ministry was to attempt to penetrate our minds. Only the Dark Lord could accomplish such tasks as penetrating our minds.

“Thank you, Bartemius Crouch jr.” Professor Dumbledore said aloud after a moment.

Tell the old bat I say you’re welcome.

“He say’s ‘you’re welcome’,” Emile said with an eye roll.

“After your cousins funeral, you will join the Weasley’s in heading to a secret location where you will spend the remainder of your summer. There Professor Snape will meet with you weekly to train your mind,” Dumbledore continued.

“Professor Snape?” Emile looked quizzically at the potions master to her left. He had never shown much interest in her before, why would he accept this task now?

“Professor Snape is a skilled in both Occlumency and Legilimency, no doubt you will be taken care of.” Professor Dumbledore paused and scribbled something out on a piece of paper. “Here is a letter for your Aunt and Uncle. Make sure you give it to them as soon as possible.”

“Will do, Professor.”

Carrot let out a few squeaks from her shoulder, receiving a warm look from Professor Snape.

Emile left the office, heading down the steps and out from behind the Gargoyle. But instead of going to her room to pack she went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

So, where was it exactly?

Go into the office. Ok now the drawer by the golden sneakescope. No the other one.

There’s seven sneakescopes.

Seven’s a magical number.

This drawer?

Yes, that one. With the wood stain that looks like a duck in a scarf.

It looks more like a Penguin doing the splits.

Can you just open it already?

Emile did as she was told, and fell to the floor in shock. The Marauders Map was sitting in the drawer, folded neatly. But on top was something she had been looking for for a long time.

You took the letter from my father?

Well, yeah. I needed some way to track him. I enter your mind when you become super emotional, you know. When you read this letter at one in the morning after that dramatic ball I was forced to watch through your eyes as you cried out of worry for your father.

So what, I’m not allowed to love my father because you didn’t love yours?

He didn’t love me.

Wait, did you kill my father?

Finally you catch on.

Why?

I couldn’t take a lifetime of watching you cry over your father as he messed up as mine did. Believe me, I did  you a favor.

Bartemius Crouch Jr., I don’t know what exactly your problem is but as long as you are in my head we are going to work on fixing you.

Good luck.

The feast was a more solemn affair than usual. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House’s colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teacher’s table. Emile felt a knot form in her stomach as she saw what was obviously meant as a sign of respect for Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him.

Professor Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, “Cedric Diggory.”

Angelina nudged Emile in the side.

“Look at Cho,” she whispered with a nod towards the Ravenclaw table.

Emile caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face.

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

There was a silent pause. Everyone in the hall seemed to be holding their breaths.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

A small chorus of frightened whispers followed Dumbledore’s words. Emile noticed Lee, who was sitting several feet down the table, staring at her. His eyes were unreadable.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.” A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry’s direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric’s, and drank to him.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort’s return — such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh.

“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.”

“It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

Emile was crying at the end of the speech. She didn’t eat much of the meal, the crowd talking about Cedric and Harry was too distracting.

“If Harry and Dumbledore both say Voldemort’s back, then he’s back,” Emile snapped at a fifth year who was talking loudly about how this was a pile of rubbish as they made their way back to the common room.

Merlin’s beard Emile, be nice to the small children.

“Ignore them, Em,” Fred said with a frown.

“It’s almost as hard as ignoring you two,” Emile said, a momentary smile on her lips.

The next morning Emile had her trunk packed and was waiting by the crowded entrance with Fred and George for the horse drawn carriages to pull up. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were running around, saying their last goodbye’s as the magnificent ship and carriage were being prepared to leave.

Fleur herself went over to say goodbye to Harry. Emile wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for Fred laughing at Ron’s red face when she approached him and Harry. Hermione was scowling next to him.

“Emile,” Viktor Krum was walking past her. “It vwas vwonderfull to see you again.”

“You too, Viktor. I hope you do well with your Quidditch career, you are an excellent seeker.”

Viktor smiled and they shook hands before he turned away, pushing through the crowd towards Hermione.

“I still can’t believe he talks to you,” Fred said in amazement as the three of them loaded their trunks into one of the nearby carriages.

“How could he not?” George said with a wink at Emile.

The train ride was enjoyable and calm. Emile had opened up the windows in their compartment, much to the disapproval of Angelina.

“We don’t all have short, manageable hair you know!” She cried indignantly as the wind caused her poofy black hair to slap her in the face.

“Let me help you,” Emile laughed, braiding her friends hair back in a french braid.

“Anything from the trolley?” A cheerful voice asked as she slid open the door to their compartment.

“A pumpkin pastie!” Emile trilled as she pulled out her wallet.

You like those? They taste terrible, like soap.

Yeah just like how you probably smelled when you actually took bath’s.

That was very rude and uncalled for.

Says you.

As she took her food a familiar blonde haired git rushed by with his two goons.

“What’s he up to?” Fred said suspiciously as Draco stopped several compartments down and opened the door.

“Harry’s in that compartment,” George sighed, pulling out his wand.

“Reckon we should check up on him,” Fred grinned, leaving the compartment.

“Wait for me!” Emile took a large bite of her pastie, relishing the pumpkin spice.

She followed the boys and stood out in the hallway behind them, getting momentarily blinded as a stream of hexes and jinxes hit Draco and his pals square on.

“Thought we’d see what those three were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment, followed quickly by George and Emile.

“Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?”

“Me,” said Harry.

“Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn’t be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let’s not leave them here, they don’t add much to the decor.”

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

“Exploding Snap, anyone?” said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

They were halfway through their fifth game when Harry sprung the anticipated question onto the twins.

“You going to tell us, then?” he said to George. “Who you were blackmailing?”

“Oh,” said George darkly. “That.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. “It wasn’t anything important. Not now, anyway.”

“We’ve given up,” said George, shrugging.

But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, “All right, all right, if you really want to know . . . it was Ludo Bagman.”

“Bagman?” said Harry sharply. “Are you saying he was involved in —”

“Nah,” said George gloomily. “Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn’t have the brains.”

“Well, what, then?” said Ron.

Fred hesitated, then said, “You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?”

“Yeah,” said Harry and Ron slowly.

“Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he’d caught from the Irish mascots.”

“So?”

“So,” said Fred impatiently, “it vanished, didn’t it? By next morning, it had gone!”

“But — it must’ve been an accident, mustn’t it?” said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly. “Yeah, that’s what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he’d made a mistake, he’d cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us.”

“In the end, he turned pretty nasty,” said Fred. “Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn’t giving us anything.”

“So we asked for our money back,” said George glowering.

“He didn’t refuse!” gasped Hermione.

“Right in one,” said Fred.

“But that was all your savings!” said Ron.

“Tell me about it,” said George. “ ’Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan’s dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he’s in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn’t enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He’s lost everything gambling. Hasn’t got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?”

“How?” said Harry. “He put a bet on you, mate,” said Fred. “Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins.”

“So that’s why he kept trying to help me win!” said Harry. “Well — I did win, didn’t I? So he can pay you your gold!”

“Nope,” said George, shaking his head. “The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you’d win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task.”

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. Emile gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, unable to speak through her mouthful of Pumpkin Pastie.

Emile soon got off the train she said goodbye to her friends before disapparating to the Diggory manor, where she was glad to know she wouldn’t have to spend a long time there. She wasn’t eager to be in the house haunted by the ghosts of her past.

Hey, at least you’ve got me for company.

Emile let out a groan and collapsed onto her bed.

Oh, everyone’s a critic.

Chapter Text

Emile tugged at her stockings, attempting to pull them up her leg. She was getting dressed for Cedric’s funeral, in her black sundress and black sandals. Mrs. Diggory had braided Emile’s short hair into a crown that went around her head. Emile had thanked her heartily, deciding that for the short time she spent here she was going to be as nice to Mrs. Diggory as she possibly could.

Why are girls dresses so much shorter nowadays?

Because now women are starting to overcome their fear of men and wearing what makes them feel good instead of what society tells them to.

I miss society’s standards.

Oh, shut up.

Emile went down the hall towards the front door, where Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were waiting for her.

Emile stood behind them as Mrs. Diggory took her husband by the arm, and the three of them disapparated to the local village cemetery. Once they had reached the freshly dug grave of Cedric, his coffin resting next to it, they waited for the guests to come.

A large amount of families who worked at the ministry showed up, as well as a majority of Hufflepuff house. Professor Sprout came, and shed a few tears during her eulogy. Cho Chang, Cedric’s girlfriend, was crying from before she arrived to after left.

Pathetic.

Emile could almost picture Barty grumbling this as he looked at Cho. He had been opening up a bit, and had consent to showing Emile a single memory of him standing in front of the mirror.

You look so young! She had said to him.

That’s because the horcrux in you is the teenage part of me, from around the time I began to convert to the ranks of the Dark Lord.

Like how the Diary contained Tom Riddle and not a fully fledged Dark Lord?

Yes, but you’re much more interesting than a diary.

I would hope so!

Emile let out a sigh as she stood by Cedric’s grave, staring at his glass headstone.The setting sun caught the engraved words at an angle, illuminating them in a white light.

Here Lies Cedric Diggory

September 30th, 1977-June 24th, 1995

Beloved Son

1994-1995 Triwizard Champion

She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she remembered her first week in the Diggory manor, how Cedric had done his best to made her feel welcome. He was the one who taught her how to ride a horse. He had insisted that they use his horse, Cygnus, for her first ride because it was the only horse Cedric trusted enough to do it.

Cedric had fought for three years with her father to allow her to go to Hogwarts. Her father was scared of letting Emile go. He didn’t want her to leave him alone. But look who was left alone now.

I know that you’re sad, but pull yourself together.

You can’t even try to have some empathy?

Not at all, Cedric died for a worthy cause. The Dark Lord is back and stronger than ever.

Emile sighed and turned away from the grave, walking over to Mrs. Diggory.

“Here dear, you’re mascara is running,” her aunt fretted and pulled out a tissue, gently dabbing Emile’s face with it.

“Thank you,” Emile sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well, now we go back to the manor to be good dinner hosts,” her uncle gave a pained smile. He hadn’t stopped staring at the grave for half an hour.

“If you two want to stay here alone for a little while, I can go check on the catering,” Emile said quickly. She was desperate to leave the cemetery before she started crying again.

“Thank you, Emile,” Mrs. Diggory put a hand on her shoulder for a moment before heading towards the grave with her husband. Emile gave the glistening headstone one final glance before disapparating.

When her bedroom in the Diggory manor came into focus, taken apart and partially in boxes, Emile smoothed out her dress and headed down the long hallway and down the stairs.

“How is everything going in here?” She called as she walked into the bustling kitchen.

“It’s going splendidly, We must thank Professor Dumbledore for sending over some of the Hogwarts house elves to assist with the feast,” Jacques, the chef the Diggory’s usually hired for large events, was beaming around the kitchen.

“I’ll be sure to let Dumbledore know when I see him the day after tomorrow,” Emile curtsied to the chef before turning to walk away.

“Wait, Miss Emile,” he called after her. “Before you go, will you taste test the tiramisu?”

“You made tiramisu?” Emile turned around, grinning.

“Oui, Mrs. Diggory asked me to make all of her son’s favorite foods. I thought, as a surprise, I would make tiramisu. The boy once mentioned to me that he loved the tiramisu you made, I would be thrilled if you tasted mine.”

Emile blushed as the chef spoke. “I suppose I could.”

He immediately clapped his hands and had one of the house elves fetch him a small slice of tiramisu. Emile took a tentative bite, savoring the treat.

“It’s very good, but the ladyfingers are a bit dry. I would soak them in more coffee and rum.” Emile finished the slice quickly as the chef jotted her advice down in a small notebook he carried in his apron.

He seems like a nerd.

You’re a nerd. He’s very nice, and makes excellent garlic bread.

Emile went into the dining room to make sure everything was set up. All of the silverware was set out and the napkins were freshly pressed. There was a fresh flower arrangement of heather and forget-me-not’s graced the center of the long rectangular dinner table.

“Emile, it looks wonderful,” Mrs. Diggory said as she apparated into the room with a pop.

“I only told the house elves what to do, they are the ones who actually did the setting up,” Emile blushed.

At that moment the doorbell rang, and Mrs. Diggory went out into the hall to greet whoever had come. Emile followed, but lingered by the door to the dining room as her aunt greeted a crowd of Ministry officials. She held the door open as the crowd of older men and women swept into the room and began searching for their seats at the dinner table.

Half an hour later, Emile was sitting in between two recent Hogwart’s graduates as they ate through a dinner of roast chicken, baked potatoes, garlic bread, and various salads from around the globe. Emile’s personal favorite, the Polish vegetable salad, was left untouched by many throughout the evening.

More for me!

Quit patronizing me, the food looks delicious and I can’t eat any of it.

That’s because your soul was sucked out by a dementor, and your body was left in Azkaban to rot.

You know, you’ve grown a lot more feisty since we started talking.

Only to you.

I feel so touched.

“Could you pass the salt?” Asked the ex-Ravenclaw on her right.

“Sure,” Emile passed the china salt shaker to him. “You’re Roger Davies, right?”

“Indeed I am. Why, have you heard of me?” He winked provocatively at Emile, who leaned away in disgust.

“Get lost Davies,” came a grumble from her left. That was Marcus Flint, the old Slytherin Quidditch captain.

“If you two will excuse me,” Emile stood up and left the table, her appetite gone.

What’s so bad about them?

They’re douchebags.

Flint seemed nice.

He’s a Slytherin.

So was I.

Yes, but I’m stuck with you.

Wow, rude.

Emile went up to her room with the intention of packing the rest of her items. Dumbledore’s letter stated that she was to move to a new location for the remainder of the summer and to expect to spend the holidays there. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory didn’t seem to mind too much; Emile was going to be out of their hand’s a year early, and in the care of Albus Dumbledore.

She turned on her muggle radio, letting it play some of the latest muggle hits as she went around her room, gathering spare items. She had five boxes of varying sizes and her trunk. Her trunk was filled with her clothes. One large box was for books. Another smaller one was for her camera, photo albums, and spare film. There was a rather long box she had filled with her posters and wall hangings. The fifth box contained her jewelry and other accessories, and the sixth she was filling with knick knacks she found lying around.

A familiar song by the Weird Sisters was playing when Emile found a small glass orb in the bottom of her Mokeskin pouch. Fingers trembling, Emile lit her wand and placed it under the orb, watching as the cosmo’s filled the barren room and covered the walls with now familiar constellations. This was the christmas present she had received from Cedric during her third year.

Oh, this is really cool.

Emile couldn’t see, her eyes were being blocked out. It was as if she had fallen asleep.

Get away, I can’t see where I am!

Can’t you give me a few more seconds? It’s been a while since I looked at the real world.

Get away!

The choking darkness suddenly vanished.

You pushed me away, I didn’t know you could do that.

It’s getting you to shut up that will be the trick.

Once a majority of the guests had left, Emile went down to the parlor for tea before going to bed. Cornelius Fudge showed up at half past nine to offer his condolences, much to the delight of Mrs. Diggory. He apologized for the form of death and the rumors that have been going around about Lord Voldemort.

“It’s horrifying what Dumbledore’s suggesting, You-Know-Who returned, I’ll believe my mother’s risen from the dead before I believe that.”

“Pardon me, Minister, but I believe Harry Potter.”

The adults all turned and stared at Emile.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Emile stood up from the sofa and left the room, going out to the stables. After brushing Nepeta, she went down to Cygnus’ stall and stroked the black stallion.

“Are you even aware that he’s gone?” She whispered to the large horse, who let out a small nicker and tossed his head back.

“Any idea what they’re going to do with all these horses now?” Darren asked as he walked by with a bucket of water.

“I don’t know, I should write to the Weasley’s to see if it would be alright to bring Nepeta.” Emile followed Darren down the barn.

How are you going to get a horse there?

I don’t know, but they can’t live too far away. We took the same portkey to the Quidditch World Cup.

“I hope they don’t get rid of the horses, I really need this job,” Emile heard Darren say quietly.

“Don’t worry Darren, I doubt Mr. Diggory would let you go. You’ve been with him since you graduated Hogwart’s five years ago.”

The stable boy smiled weakly at Emile before heading off to complete his chores, and she went off to bed.

Emile spent the next day packing her things. She had to go down to the muggle village nearby to pick up two more boxes for her blankets and pillows. Mrs. Diggory thought this was ridiculous, but Emile had sentimental attachment to her pillows.

The morning she was supposed to leave for the burrow, Emile was waiting in the entrance hall for Dumbledore at seven am sharp. She had pulled her short, auburn hair into two pigtails and put on shorts, a black tanktop and a her red plaid shirt.

“He ought to be arriving at any moment,” Mr. Diggory said, nervously glancing at his wristwatch.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Albus Dumbledore strode into the house.

“Good morning, Amos. I’m very sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral yesterday, there’s been a lot to take care of.”

“No worries Dumbledore. I trust that you’ll take good care of Emile?”

What he means is, better then Cedric.

I realized, Bartemius.

I told you not to call me that  .

“Don’t worry Amos, we have a safe place to put her,” Albus Dumbledore smiled warmly at Mr. Diggory before turning to Emile. “Are these all of your things?”

“Yep, this is it,” Emile said, taking out her wand. “Are we ready to go?”

“We are indeed, I will see you in the cart.” With a wave of his wand Dumbledore lifted the trunk, seven boxes, and Carrot’s cage and carried them out the door.

“Goodbye, Uncle Amos,” Emile gave her uncle a large hug.

“Goodbye, dear,” He said back, a single tear in his eye.

“Good luck, Emile,” Mrs. Diggory whispered into her ear as she also enveloped Emile in a hug.

With a final glance around the manor, Emile went out the door and down to the large wooden cart. Her items took up most of the back, so she sat on the seat next to Dumbledore.

“Nepeta!” She said with a grin as she noticed her horse harnessed to the front, alongside a large black horse with wings.

“Professor, what is that?” Emile asked as they started moving.

“Perhaps your little friend knows the answer, hmm?” He said with a curt smile.

It’s a thestral. You learned about them in Care of Magical Creature’s. This one is probably part of the herd that pulls the carriages at Hogwarts.

The ones you can only see once you’ve seen death?

That’s right. I’m going to have to dig around as you sleep, because I know you didn’t see your father or Cedric die.

Or you could ask? It was my grandfather.

I would much rather see it, it’s much more fascinating.

Emile rolled her eyes.

“Do you understand now?” Professor Dumbledore asked warily.

“Yes, thank you,” Emile watched the countryside pass by as the horse and thestral pulled the cart onward.

“How is he liking his new confinements?” Dumbledore asked after a long silence.

She complains a lot. But it’s much more preferable than Azkaban.

“He says that despite my complaining he likes it better than Azkaban.”

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle and didn’t say anything else until they had passed through the muggle village by the Burrow.

“Now Emile, when we get to the Weasley’s you will be leaving for a new location, so don’t unpack. Your horse will remain at the Burrow, but you will be given an escort once a week to come ride it. Arthur Weasley will be coming by the house daily and has agreed to care for– what did you say her name was?”

“Nepeta.”

Dumbledore gave a small nod.

“You won’t tell me where we’re going?” Emile prompted as they rode over the hillside and the Burrow came into sight.

“That information will be provided later,” was the only response she got.

A thought occurred to Emile. “What do I tell Fred and George?”

Dumbledore paused as the cart stopped by the wooden house. “As troublesome as the twins may be, it is up to you whom you tell about your burden. But do not tell too many people, only the ones you trust the most.”

Emile swallowed nervously before dismounting from the cart and pointing her wand to the back.

“Locomotor my things,” she said dully. Her trunk and boxes immediately began to float towards her, but so did Nepeta, who whinnied fearfully.

Dumbledore chuckled at pointed his wand at the horse, who returned to her spot, ears laid back in fright.

You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.

Well, now I know.

“Emile!”

She looked up to find Fred and Ginny running towards her from the house, where Mrs. Weasley was standing by the door.

“Dumbledore!” She called out and waved her hand.

“I don’t have much time, Molly,” Professor Dumbledore swept past her into the house, leaving Emile outside with her friends.

“How are you two? And where’s George?” Emile craned her neck to look over Fred’s shoulder.

“He’s packing up some final things,” Ginny said with a smirk.

“You wouldn’t know how to perform an undetectable extension charm, would you?” Fred said in a low voice.

“I do, why do you ask?”

“We need to take some stuff we’ve been working on without mom realizing,” Fred pulled her into the house and up the stairs, followed closely by Ginny.

“Emile!” George gave her a hug as she came into the room. “It’s been too long.”

It hasn’t even been a week.

Jealous?

Not particularly.

“Wow,” Emile looked around the room, surprised at how clean it looked. “You guys should move out more often.”

“Don’t be rude,” Fred nudged her in the side before taking a surprisingly small moving box that had been labeled in large black letters, “CLOTHES”.

“Why do you need me to do this?” Emile said as she pulled out her wand.

“Mom still doesn’t really like the idea of the joke shop,” George grumbled as he pulled several bags of candy and long pieces of flesh colored string out of his dress shoes.

“To make sure we don’t take anything with us she got us boxes that she says she’ll check before we leave,” Fred said as he pulled out several fake wands out of a small cup of quills and pens that Emile had given them.

“Makes sense,” Emile said, pointing her wand at the inside of the box. “Capacious Extremis.”

“Thank you,” Fred said, sticking his arm in the box and grinning in delight as it sunk all the way in. “Blimey, that’s deeper than I thought it would be.”

“You’re welcome,” Emile said, leaving the room to go fetch Nepeta.

Nepeta knickered at Emile as she unharnessed her and led her over to a small barn by the chicken coop. Inside there was a single, empty stall for Emile to put her. Once Nepeta was settled in and eating a helping of oats, Emile went out and got a large box of supplies she had brought along. Soon Nepeta’s saddle, blanket, and bridle were resting on a shelf next to the lead rope. On a smaller shelf underneath a variety of polish and soap sat neatly next to a organized box of brushes.

“Emile, is this your horse?” Ginny cooed as she walked into the barn.

“Yes, this is Nepeta,” Emile said as she removed the feed bag from around Nepeta’s neck.

“She’s gorgeous,” Ginny said enviously, stroking the horse’s soft nose.

“I’d be happy to let you ride her after lunch,” Emile said with a grin.

“I’d love that!” Ginny squealed.

At that moment Mrs. Weasley called out from inside the house that lunch was ready. Emile spent lunch listening to the various stories Fred and George had as a result of finally being able to use magic outside of school. Ginny said they had developed a new attitude that the law was now beneath them, that work was overrated. They apparated everywhere and refused to lift anything.

“I understand the lifting, but the excessive apparation? Is that really necessary?” Emile asked as she sipped on her iced coffee.

“Time is galleons,” Fred said with a grin.

As promised, Emile took Ginny out on a ride after lunch. Ginny sat perched on the saddle as Emile led Nepeta around the house and a small way down the dirt road before going back.

“Do you want to try it on your own?” Emie asked as the Burrow came into view.

“Alright,” Ginny said a bit nervously as Emile unhooked the lead rope from Nepeta’s bridle and handed the reins to Ginny.

Soon the redhead was in full control of the horse, grinning as they trotted around the house.

“Ginny, be careful!” Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen window as she swept past.

“What’s all this?” Ron came out of the house with Hermione, nearly getting trampled by Nepeta as Ginny galloped by.

“Would you like a turn, too?” Emile laughed at his shocked expression.

“N-no thanks. I think I’m good,” Ron said nervously, watching his sister enjoying herself.

“Are you scared?” Ginny called out as she drew Nepeta to a halt next to Emile.

“You can’t possibly be scared of a horse, Ronald,” Hermione smirked next to him

“I am not!” He said hotly, his face turning red.

Ginny dismounted Nepeta and bowed to Ron. “After you, good sir.”

Grumbling, Ron climbed onto Nepeta’s saddle, warily watching the smirking girls out of the corner of his eye. They watched as he nervously edged the horse forward, looking terrified.

“I think I’m starting to get the hang of this!” He said happily, bringing Nepeta up to a gallop and promptly falling off the back of the horse.

Ginny was on the ground, laughing. Hermione was laughing so hard she had started to cry. Emile laughed for a moment too as Nepeta trotted over to her and headbutted her in the shoulder.

“You alright, Ron?” Hermione called out as Emile attached the lead rope back onto the horse.

“Never been better,” he gasped from the ground.

That evening they were eating a rather rushed dinner when Mr. Weasley came home from work.

“Emile, good to see you,” he grinned once he had kissed his wife hello.

“Likewise, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a smile.

“Hello everybody!” Percy had just apparated into the room, his face aglow. “Mom, you’re looking well. Ginny, Fred, George, Hermione hello. Ron, what happened to your face? Emile! Good to see you.”

“Either you got promoted or you’re getting married,” Fred mumbled around a mouthful of spaghetti.

“The latter!” Percy said with a grin, sitting down at the table.

“No, seriously. What happened?” Fred stared at his brother.

“I have been promoted. Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself! I’m on a roll for someone one year out of school,” Percy took no notice of the stares and gaping mouths in his direction as he helped himself to a plate of spaghetti.

“Junior Assistant!” Hermione said, attempting the lighten the mood. “That’s really, wow.”

“Yes, that’s um, really good,”Ginny said with a nervous glance at her parent’s.

“Cornelius Fudge, the man who has been storming around the ministry in search of people in league with Dumbledore, promoted you, the son of someone he knows to be in league with Dumbledore, to be his personal assistant,” Mr. Weasley said slowly.

“What’s your point?” Percy frowned at his father, glaring at him over his horn rimmed glasses.

“He’s just using you to spy on the family,” Mr. Weasley snapped.

“He- I never- How could- You don’t know-” Percy spluttered as he stared at his father before taking a moment to calm himself.

“You know what, Father ? I reckon you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Mr. Weasley’s face was red as a tomato.

“Boys, please,” Mrs. Weasley seemed on the verge of tears.

“I’ve been struggling with your lousy reputation ever since I got a job at the Ministry!” Percy was yelling now.

“Lousy reputation?”

“You have no ambition, that’s why our family’s always been dirt poor! You’re an idiot for running around with Dumbledore, that man’s headed for big trouble and you lot are going to go down with him! I know where my loyalties lie, and that’s with the Ministry! If you lot are going to become traitors to the ministry by joining this, this Order, I want it made clear that I have nothing to do with this family anymore!”

“So you don’t believe that You-Know-Who has returned? You actually believe that Diggory boy died of natural causes?”

Emile winced as Cedric was brought into the argument.

“It’s the minister’s word over Harry’s and you’ve got to admit it seems suspicious. He ought to get that scar of his checked by a professional,” Percy sniffed.

“He can’t help it!” Ron and Hermione yelled in unison, Ron standing up from his seat.

“Maybe if he wasn’t so attention seeking-”

“GET OUT!” Mr. Weasley roared over the yells from his children as Ginny, Fred, and George all began to lecture Percy.

“Arthur, please!” Mrs. Weasley was sobbing now.

Holy shit.

I know, right?

“GLADLY!” Percy bellowed, stomping up to his room. A few minutes later he came back downstairs, trunk and suitcase packed.

“Percy PLEASE! Arthur, do something!” Mrs. Weasley ran after her son. A moment later there was a loud crack, indicating that the Weasley boy had disapparated.

Mrs. Weasley came inside, crying harder still.

“Kid’s, go to your room’s,” Mr. Weasley muttered with a glare at the door as he pulled his wife in for a hug.

They obliged, but instead of heading to their separate rooms congregated in Fred and George’s room to discuss what had happened.

“That lousy, no good, slimy, foul, git,” Ginny was muttering under her breath.

“Feel free to let it out,” Fred said as he tossed a pillow to his sister.

“Sorry you had to see that, Emile,” George said as she sat down next to him on his bed, Ginny’s muted screams and swears coming from across the room.

“You to, Hermione,” Fred said after a moment.

“I always knew Percy was a git but I never imagined he’d say all that,” Ron said sulkily.

“And to dad’s face, too,” Fred muttered from the bed.

George let out a sigh and put his head in his hands.

They sat in silence for half an hour before Mrs. Weasley came upstairs, puffy eyed.

“Come on, Dumbledore will be here soon,” she said briskly.

Emile went down to Ginny’s room and levitated her trunk down the stairs to the living room. Soon the twins joined them with their trunks and several boxes, Ron and Hermione took a bit longer since they didn’t have anyone of-age helping them.

They sat in silence, unwilling to talk in case someone brought up what had just occurred, until a loud crack sounded and Dumbledore appeared before them.

“Excellent, you’re all here,” He said with a glance around the room. “No, you aren’t. Where is Percy?”

“Percy will not be joining us,” Mr. Weasley said sharply as Mrs. Weasley’s lips began to quiver.

“Aha,” was all Dumbledore said. “Alright then, let’s gather around the fireplace, my acquaintance should be meeting us soon.”

At that moment a large, shaggy, black dog stumbled out of the fire, which had turned an emerald green.

“Ah, Sirius!” Dumbledore said at the same moment Emile recognized the dog. It quickly transformed into a tall man with shaggy, black hair.

“Hello all, good to see you again, Molly.”

Mrs. Weasley managed a nod of greeting.

“It works then?” Dumbledore asked with a look at the fireplace.

“It seems that it does.” Sirius looked out the window, as if he was expecting a letter.

“Good, that means they aren’t watching the Floo Network too closely yet,” Dumbledore said quietly as if he was talking to himself.

“Here!” He whipped out a piece of paper from his robe pocket. “Everyone read this and memorize it.”
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

“What’s the Order-” Fred was shushed by the four adult’s around him, who were glaring as if he was saying blasphemy.

“We’ll tell you when we get there,” Mr. Weasley whispered fervently.

“Alright then. Molly, take the Floo Network with Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The rest of us will Apparate with the supplies,” Dumbledore said as he ushered the four people he had called towards the fireplace.

“Nonsense, we can each carry a few boxes ourselves,” Mrs. Weasley scoffed as she handed the twins box of “clothes” to Ron and Emile’s box of knick knacks to Ginny, taking a large box of kitchen supplies for herself and directing Sirius to take Mr. Weasley’s trunk.

Emile, Fred, and George picked up their trunks while Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore grabbed a few boxes. One at a time, they focused on the destination Dumbledore had given them and turned on the spot, apparating in front of a beaten old door.  The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. They heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

“Lumos Maxima,” Dumbledore said as he cast the light into the house, showing a row of old fashioned gas lamps lining a dark, dusty hallway.

“Welcome to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Is no one going to tell us what that is?” Fred said in an exasperated voice.

Chapter Text

The next few days were some of the busiest and most uncomfortable of the summer. Since the most habitable room at the time was the dining room, the large table had been pushed up against a wall so that everyone could sleep somewhat comfortably. Emile Hermione, and Ginny slept on top of the table, while Ron, Fred, and George slept underneath. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had their sleeping bags against the far wall, and Sirius slept opposite of them in his own little bubble of space.

The first problem they had to take care of was the portrait of Sirius’s mother. Every time one of the crept past she would start screaming bloody murder. It was Hermione’s idea to hang some old curtains over her portrait so that she couldn’t see them, and it thankfully worked really well.

The morning after their arrival, Mrs. Weasley had tied rags around their faces and given them large bottles of Doxycide to deal with an infestation of Doxy’s in the kitchen cabinets. Once they had been dealt with and the cabinets full of broken china were emptied, Mrs. Weasley got to organizing the kitchen. The rest of them were sent into the main hallway, where Ron helped Sirius fix the old gas lamps and Ginny dusted off the pictures and washed the windows. Emile, Fred, and George spent most of the afternoon siphoning dust off of the tattered carpet with their wands.

The next day they tackled the upstairs hallway and one of the empty bedrooms, in which a boggart had taken residence under the bed. By the end of the day the bedroom was deemed habitable, and Mrs. Weasley and her husband moved in. By the end of the week they had cleared enough rooms for everyone to stake their claims. Ginny and Hermione were on the second landing with Ron, and Emile was on the third landing with the twins. Sirius had taken a day off helping them to clear out his old bedroom, while they cleaned out what had have been his mother’s. Once it was cleared, a Hippogriff named Buckbeak claimed that bedroom as his own.

As soon as they had all moved out of the dining room, regular meetings were held there by the Order. Emile, surprisingly enough, was invited to participate. It wasn’t because of her, but because the Order believed Barty had some useful information on You-Know-Who.

Fred and George were desperate for information, so Emile told them as little as she could. The Order had quite a few members, maybe even forty. The ones she had met were Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Mad Eye Moody, Elphias Dodge, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, and (Emile’s favorite) Nymphadora Tonks. Along with Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professor Snape, these people seemed to make up the most regular attendees of the Order of the Phoenix meeting’s.

“Come on, you know more then that,” Fred argued as the group of them sat in the twins room after a late night meeting.

“They’re guarding something! When I’m around they try to be as vague as possible!” Emile said indignantly as Fred threw her a reproachful look.

“What are they guarding?” George said after a moment.

“My best guess is Harry,” Emile responded. “They never say what it is specifically, just discuss shifts.”

“It’s like being left out of an inside joke,” Fred said with a sigh.

That was a really good comparison.

See? My friend’s aren’t idiot’s.

Their goal in life is to open a joke shop.

Your goal in life was to please a mad man.

“Emile, you’re doing it again,” George interrupted with a frown.

“Sorry!” Emile shook her head and looked up. “Did you say something?”

“What’s Snape doing there?”

Emile was thrown back to less than an hour ago, when she had had her first Occlumency lesson.

“Control your emotions. Discipline your mind. And most importantly, do not let me in,” Snape had said slowly before pointing his wand at her.

At that moment Emile experienced a rush of emotion. She had recalled many moving memories, receiving Carrot, the day on the train with Oliver, her father’s funeral-

“Stop!” She had thought, attempting to fight back, but the thoughts just kept coming.

As the image of Cedric’s headstone came into her mind she took a deep breath and slowly began to push it away.

‘Stop.’ The word echoed through her mind. Surprisingly enough, she had begun to see other memories, unfamiliar memories. A woman, lying sickly in bed, twelve O.W.L.OWL’s, Mr. Crouch staring in disapproval as the happiness was slowly sucked out of the world-

“What did you do to me?” Emile gasped as Snape fell backwards onto a chair.

“I didn’t do anything,” Snape had looked at her warily. “You did that. You blocked me out, and in doing so infiltrated Barty’s mind.”

I did that?

The thought had gone unanswered in her head.

“Emile!” Fred snapped, bringing her back to the present.

She let out a heaving sigh. “I’m going to tell you guys something, but you have to promise you will not tell anyone else.”

No, don’t do it.

“I hate it when they get serious,” Fred muttered, and received glares from both Emile and George.

“You can tell us anything,” George said after a moment.

Emile sighed again. “Alright. So, you know how my scar was hurting a lot last year?”

The twins nodded.

“It’s because I was near the person who gave it to me. The man impersonating Professor Moody, Bartemius Crouch Jr., is the one who did it.”

Oh my god.

“What do you mean, is? His soul was sucked out by a dementor,” Fred frowned.

“Most of it.”

“Most of it?” George frowned at her. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Emile’s lips quivered. “Inside of me.”

“How can it be inside of you?” Fred was staring at her like she was a completely different person.

“I’m a horcrux,” Emile said quietly, her eyes tearing up. “He attached part of his soul onto me, so he’s still alive. I can hear him, in my head. Snape’s been teaching me how to control him; that’s why I’m at the meeting’s. Since he was a death eater, they think they can get some information out of him.”

The twins stared at her for a long time. Emile wiped her eyes self consciously.

Emile it’s bad enough a gang of old people knows, but now your friends?/

Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, then we wouldn’t be here right now.

You were the perfect vessel. After all, I helped torture your mother into insanity. I couldn’t not take this opportunity.

You did what?

“Em?” George said after a moment.

“What?” Emile sniffled.

“This doesn’t change how we feel about you.”

“It’s nice you finally trust us enough to tell us this,” Fred grinned.

Emile wrapped her arms around the two of them, who gave her awkward pats on the shoulder.

“I’d better get to bed,” She said, disapparating to the next door bedroom.

She put her glasses onto the nightstand before climbing into the four poster bed. She’d been having a lot of difficulty falling asleep recently, and staying asleep for that matter. She kept waking up from nightmares, some reoccurring ones. The most popular one seemed to be the night her grandfather died.

It was a little after midnight when Bartemius spoke.

You awake?

Yeah.

I’m sorry if I made your life miserable.

You were just upset that you couldn’t please your father. It’s not your fault, you know.

How do you know that?

Your father cared more about his job then his family. You should have focused more on doing things for you instead of doing things for him.

I did do this for me, I’ve made an excellent name for myself.

Have you? Really?

In the silence that followed Emile took out the glass ball from Cedric out of the nightstand drawer. Igniting her wand, she carefully placed the ball on top and sat, staring at the stars that covered her ceiling.

Are you looking at the stars again?

Yes.

Can I see?

Alright, just let me close my eyes. Okay, go ahead.

Wow…

Emile lay there, relishing the silence. She could sense something new coming off of the dark part in her. It could have been happiness, It could have been peace. As she fell into a deep sleep, she at least knew that for once he wasn’t angry.

The next morning Emile was woke by her bedroom door opening so ferociously that it slammed into the wall.

“You didn’t tell us Bill was back!” Fred cried indignantly.

“I didn’t?” Emile said with a yawn and glance at the clock. It was only eight am.

“Well I definitely meant to.”

She was dragged out of bed in her pajamas for breakfast.

“You know, you almost look like a Weasley now with that hair,” Bill said with a wink at Emile as she buttered her toast.

“Mind you, she already practically is,” George mumbled around his mouthful of eggs.

“You’re right George, we have to make it official,” Fred said with a look around the table. “Ron, you’re engaged to Emile now.”

“What?” Emile, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all said at the same time as Bill laughed and George choked on his eggs.

“So what are you doing now that you’re back in England?” Ginny asked her older brother.

“I’ve applied for a desk job in Gringotts,” Bill said with a shrug. “I miss the tombs but it’s nice to be back.”

“You’ll never guess who also got a job at Gringotts,” Mrs. Weasley chirped with a glint in her eyes. “You remember the Beauxbaton champion?”

“Fleur?” Ron turned red as he said her name.

“Yes, Fleur. She’s there to improve her English,” Bill said with a look at his mother.

“She’s after a bit more if you ask me,” Emile heard Mrs. Weasley mutter as she carried the empty plate of toast to the kitchen to refill.

As the weeks went by, more and more of the house was cleaned. Sometimes members of the Order would stay and help them. One memorable day was when Tonks helped them get rid of a ghastly nest of spiders the size of her face. Ron had fainted at the sight of them, and had to be carried out by Mrs. Weasley.

Tonks wasn’t like the other members of the order. She was younger and much more fun, and she was a metamorphmagus. Whenever she stayed for dinner she would entertain Ginny and Hermione by transforming her face in between bites. She also dressed more normally than the other wizards. Since her father was a muggle she knew how muggles dressed and seemed to follow their fashion trends.

“What happened, Molly?” Sirius asked one day at dinner as an Owl flew into the kitchen.

“Harry’s been attacked by dementors!” She gasped, leaning against the counter.

A loud cry echoed around the room as everyone rushed forward, trying to get a hold of the note she was holding.

“It say’s here, Harry was attacked by dementors but fought them off. He was expelled from school but Dumbledore just arrived to sort things out.”

Sirius stared at Mrs. Weasley. “I ought to go write a quick note to Harry,” he muttered and swept out of the room.

“You’ve got to summon the Order,” Emile turned to Mrs. Weasley. “It was stupid to leave him out of it so long, it was only a matter of time before he got himself into trouble.”

“You’re right, Emile. I agree that we shouldn’t have left him alone for so long, but he’s too young to be in on all this Order business.”

“What about us? We’re of age, why can’t we-” Fred was interrupted by his mother.

“Because you are still in school, only those who have graduated and taken their N.E.W.T.NEWT’s can join the Order on its tasks!” Mrs. Weasley’s face was growing red.

“But Emile-” George began to argue but broke off, his face growing pale as he glanced over at Emile nervously.

“You know why Emile is the exception, George. It’s on Dumbledore’s orders that she hears what she hears, and thank Merlin his orders were that she hears as little as possible,” Mrs. Weasley snapped and stormed off into the kitchen.

Did he look a bit scared to you?

Please don’t say that. I’ll get paranoid.

Emile went to her room without a word and finished unpacking her things. Her posters and pictures were hanging on the wall, as were the glass orbs she had hung in her dormitory last year. Her book’s graced the shelves and dress robes poked out of the closet. The various pillows and blankets scattered across the bed and floor gave the room a splash of color that hadn’t been there when she had moved in.

How does it look now?

Pretty good.

Can I see?

Sure.

Emile closed her eyes as Barty took over, standing still for a moment as she opened them back up and gave him control.

It’s so, girly.

Well what did you expect?

I don’t know, but I kind of miss the blackness.

You would.

What is that supposed to mean?

You worshiped a DARK lord.

Oh, hah. Real funny.

The next day, Emile joined a particularly large meeting of the Order.

“Good evening, Professor Moody,” she said as Mad Eye sat down next to her.

He never really got around to much teaching.

“What did he say?” Mad Eye growled.

“He said you never really got around to much teaching,” Emile said with a small smile.

“Well he isn’t wrong,” Mad Eye laughed before turning to talk to Sirius.

Emile sat at the head of the table as she waited for the meeting to begin.

“Where’s Snape?” She asked Remus as he and Tonks sat down next to her.

“He’s busy,” Remus said a bit too quickly.

“I have no idea,” Tonks said at the same time.

The two shared a glance before hastily changing the subject to some current ministry event. Emile tuned out what they were saying and helped herself to a muffin from the platters of foods Mrs. Weasley had put out.

As she took a bite of her muffin, Dumbledore strode into the room.

“Good evening everyone,” He said with a look around the table.

A chorus of “good evening”s responded to the old headmaster’s greeting as he sat down at the head of the table.

“Now, the first order of business is to get Harry here by the end of the week. Alastor, can I count on you to be in charge of this operation?”

“Sure can,” Moody grunted from next to Emile, who took another bite of her muffin.

“Excellent, excellent. Anyone interested in helping should report to Alastor after the meeting. Second, How is guard duty going?”

Dumbledore looked across the room to where Emile was sitting.

“Ah, Emile. I don’t think there will be much for you to do today, Severus won’t be joining us this evening.”

That’s kind of rude, why invite you here in the first place?

I’m sure the others didn’t know. It’s not their fault.

Emile nodded and grabbed another muffin before leaving the room, tripping over a flesh colored string dangling from above the door.

“What the-”

“SSHHH!” An angry whisper came from above.

Emile looked up to see George, Fred, and Ginny crowded around one end of the flesh colored string.

“I take it the extendable ears are working?” Emile whispered as she joined them on the second landing.

“Like a charm,” Fred said, looking up at Emile with a grin for a split second.

A split second was all it took.

“What in the- BOYS!” Mr. Weasleys shouts came from below as she ran into the flesh colored string.

“Oh no,” Ginny whispered, backing towards her room.

“Quick, give it to me,” Emile said as Mrs. Weasley began storming up the stairs, yelling at the top of her lungs.

“IF YOU TWO THINK THIS IS ANOTHER PRANK FOR YOUR JOKE SHOP THEN I”VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU.”

Fred shoved the string into Emile’s hands and the three of them quickly disapparated, Emile to her room and the twins to theirs. Not two seconds had passed when George apparated next to her bed with the box marked ‘CLOTHES’.

“Hide these!” He whispered urgently before disapparating again.

Emiel shoved the box into her wardrobe, carefully placing shoes around it to conceal it, and grabbed a book off of her shelf, jumping onto her bed and flipping open to the middle just as Mrs. Weasley’s muted yells came from next door.

How much trouble do you think they’re in?

If she doesn’t find any evidence then they can’t be in trouble.

But that’s boring.

After a few minutes, she came into Emile’s room.

“Hello dear, what do you have there?”

“It’s a really good book, it’s um,” Emile quickly scanned the cover, “Nature’s Nobility: a Wizard’s Genealogy…”

“Ah, well I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Mrs. Weasley said, but Emile didn’t miss her eyes fervently scanning the room.

“I’m fine, I didn’t expect them to let me stay long,” Emile shrugged. “Oh, and Mrs. Weasley?”

“Yes, dear?” She said hopefully, as if Emile were about to hand over the twins stash of pranks.

“Excellent muffins.”

Chapter Text

A few days later there was another major meeting. Emile was called down, but not to participate. She waited in the room next door for Snape to finish giving his report before he would supposedly come over and continue with their Occlumency lessons. After around forty five minutes, he finally came into the room and sat down across from her.

Took him long enough.

Of course it did, doing this with me is hardly the highlight of his day.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Gorska,” he sniffed across from her.

Emile shrugged. “I’m ready when you are, Professor.”

She immediately felt something invade her mind. Taking a deep breath, she focused on her emotions, and remained calm. Immediately, Barty’s memories came flooding in.

‘I don’t want to see this’ she repeated to herself over and over again, until, finally, she managed to block Snape from entering both her and Barty’s minds.

Why would you protect me?

I’ve grown to like you.

“Well done, Emile.”

Emile jerked her head up and stared at the Professor. “You used my first name.”

Snape looked surprised for a moment. “Did I?”

Emile gave a small nod as she watched the Professor closely.

He gave a dry smile. “Must have slipped out.”

“If you’re going to be invading my brain for a while I want to know more about you, Professor,” Emile said, narrowing her eyes at Snape.

“Do you get this comfortable with all of your teachers, Miss Gorska?” Professor Snape asked in a slightly irritated tone.

“Only my favorites,” Emile said, tilting her head and smiling up at the Professor.

“Alright, enough of this,” He said with a small smile.

“Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Weasley came into the room looking slightly flustered. “The others are just leaving, Severus.”

“Thank you, Molly.” Professor Snape stood up and left the room, pausing in the doorway to look at Emile.

“Keep practicing,” he said curtly before leaving her alone with Mrs. Weasley.

“Considering that mans history I have no idea how Dumbledore could trust him,” Mrs. Weasley said with an exasperated sigh. “Come along Emile, dear.”

“I need to feed Carrot, I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Emile said quickly, darting up the steps to her room.

Once inside, she put on longer pants and fed her pet rat. Carrot was snoozing underneath the hamster wheel, but quickly sat up when she heard her food being poured into her bowl. Emile smiled and pet her rat before heading out onto the second landing.

“Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!” Emile heard Mrs. Weasley shriek from down below. She ran into the kitchen to find a large black burn on the kitchen table, and butterbeer everywhere. At one end Sirius and Harry were laughing at a knife that was embedded in the table’s surface.

“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” screamed Mrs. Weasley. “THERE WAS NO NEED — I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!”

“We were just trying to save a bit of time!” said Fred, hurrying forward and wrenching the bread knife out of the table. “Sorry Sirius, mate — didn’t mean to —”

Mundungus swore as he got to his feet from where he had fallen off of his chair next to Harry.

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, “your mother’s right, you’re supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you’ve come of age —”

“— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. “Bill didn’t feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn’t Charm everything he met! Percy —”

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

“Let’s eat,” said Bill quickly.

“It looks wonderful, Molly,” said Lupin, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes, there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, there’s something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just� be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.”

“Whatever you like,” said Sirius indifferently.

“The curtains in there are full of doxies too,” Mrs. Weasley went on. “I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” said Sirius in a sarcastic tone.

Emile and George shared a glance across the table. It was no secret that Sirius didn’t enjoy cleaning with them. He hadn’t been outside the house in a month, and Emile didn’t even know how long he’d been since he’d been outside at all.

Tonks had begun to perform her usual dinnertime routine, transforming her nose into one much like Severus Snape.

“Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks,” Ginny said with a grin.

Tonk’s obliged, and Harry stared at her with a shocked look on his face, causing Emile to laugh as well.

Giggles next to her drew Emile’s attention back to Mundungus, who was telling another story about one of his heists. Emile laughed along with Ron, Fred, and George as he elaborated on the tale.

“. . . and then,” choked Mundungus, tears running down his face, “and then, if you’ll believe it, ’e says to me, ’e says, ‘ ’ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? ’Cos some son of a Bludger’s gone and nicked all mine!’ And I says, ‘Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you’ll be wanting some more, then?’ And if you’ll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all ’is own toads back orf me for twice what ’e paid in the first place —”

“I don’t think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forward onto the table, howling with laughter.

“Beg pardon, Molly,” said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes. “But, you know, Will nicked ’em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn’t really doing nothing wrong —”

“I don’t know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,” said Mrs. Weasley coldly.

Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of butterbeer; George was hiccuping. Emile gave him a pat on the back and he stopped.

A large helping of rhubarb crumble later, Emile was playing spoons with Fred and George at one end of the table. Ginny was sitting on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks around for Crookshanks to chase.

“Nearly time for bed, I think,” said Mrs. Weasley on a yawn.

“Not just yet, Molly,” said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. “You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.”

“I did!” said Harry indignantly. “I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so —”

“And they’re quite right,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’re too young.”

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?” asked Sirius. “Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen —”

“Hang on!” interrupted George loudly.

“How come Harry gets his questions answered?” said Fred angrily.

“We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!” said George. “

‘You’re too young, you’re not in the Order,’ ” said Fred, in a high pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother’s.  “Harry’s not even of age!”

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —”

“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?”

“Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Emile, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius.

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to —”

“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —”

“— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —”

“No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —”

“He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.

“He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!”

“I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly.

“I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Harry.

“What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!”

“Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?” demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

“Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —”

“We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!” said Sirius loudly.

“Arthur!” said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband. “Arthur, back me up!”

Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he say, “Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!”

“Personally,” said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, “I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from . . . others.”�

His expression was mild, but Emile felt sure that Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs. Weasley’s purge.

“Well,” said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, “well . . . I can see I’m going to be overruled. I’ll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry’s best interests at heart —”

“He’s not your son,” said Sirius quietly.

“He’s as good as,” said Mrs. Weasley fiercely.

“Who else has he got?”

“He’s got me!”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling. “The thing is, it’s been rather difficult for you to look after him while you’ve been locked up in Azkaban, hasn’t it?”

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

“Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,” said Lupin sharply. “Sirius, sit down.”

Mrs. Weasley’s lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

“I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,” Lupin continued. “He’s old enough to decide for himself.”

“I want to know what’s been going on,” Harry said at once.

“Very well,” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. “Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — Emile- I want you out of this kitchen, now.”

There was instant uproar.

“We’re of age!” Fred and George bellowed together.

“I’ve already been to several meeting’s!” Emile yelled indignantly.

“If Harry’s allowed, why can’t I?” shouted Ron.

“Mum, I want to!” wailed Ginny. �

“NO!” shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. “I absolutely forbid —”

“Molly, you can’t stop Fred and George,” said Mr. Weasley wearily. “Or Emile,” he added as an afterthought. “They are of age —”

“They’re still at school —”

“But they’re legally adults now,” said Mr. Weasley in the same tired voice.

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face. “I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —”

“Harry’ll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!” said Ron hotly.

“Won’t — won’t you?” he added uncertainly, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“ ’Course I will,” Harry said. Ron and Hermione beamed at him.

“Was he mad that he’s been out of the loop?” Emile whispered to George.

“You could hear him throughout the whole house,” George whispered back.

I’d be mad too

Oh, what? You had friends?

Oh haha. You’re hilarious.

“Fine!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Fine! Ginny — BED!”

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black’s earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

“Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?”

Harry took a deep breath.

“Where’s Voldemort? What’s he doing? I’ve been trying to watch the Muggle news,” he said, “and there hasn’t been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —”

“That’s because there haven’t been any suspicious deaths yet,” said Sirius, “not as far as we know, anyway. . . . And we know quite a lot.” “

More than he thinks we do anyway,” said Lupin.

“How come he’s stopped killing people?” Harry asked.

“Because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself at the moment,” said Sirius. “It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn’t come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up.”

“Or rather, you messed it up for him,” said Lupin with a satisfied smile.

“How?” Harry asked perplexedly.

“You weren’t supposed to survive!” said Sirius. “Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he’d come back. But you survived to bear witness.”

“And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore,” said Lupin. “And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once.”

“How has that helped?” Harry asked.

“Are you kidding?” said Bill incredulously. “Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!”

“Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned,” said Sirius.

“So what’s the Order been doing?” said Harry, looking around at them all.

“Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can’t carry out his plans,” said Sirius.

“How d’you know what his plans are?” Harry asked quickly.

“Dumbledore’s got a shrewd idea,” said Lupin, “and Dumbledore’s shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate.”

“So what does Dumbledore reckon he’s planning?”

“Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,” said Sirius. “In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he’d bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they’ll be just one group he’s after. He’s certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.”

“So you’re trying to stop him getting more followers?”

“We’re doing our best,” said Lupin.

“How?”

“Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard,” said Bill. “It’s proving tricky, though.”

“Why?”

“Because of the Ministry’s attitude,” said Tonks. “You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn’t shifted his position at all. He’s absolutely refusing to believe it’s happened.”

“But why?” said Harry desperately. “Why’s he being so stupid? If Dumbledore —”

“Ah, well, you’ve put your finger on the problem,” said Mr. Weasley with a wry smile. “Dumbledore.”

“Fudge is frightened of him, you see,” said Tonks sadly.

“Frightened of Dumbledore?” said Harry incredulously.

“Frightened of what he’s up to,” said Mr. Weasley. “You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore’s plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic.”

“But Dumbledore doesn’t want —”

“Of course he doesn’t,” said Mr. Weasley. “He’s never wanted the Minister’s job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he’s never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.”

“Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore’s much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,” said Lupin. “But it seems that he’s become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he’s managed to convince himself that he’s the clever one and Dumbledore’s simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.”

“How can he think that?” said Harry angrily. “How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I’d make it all up?”

“Because accepting that Voldemort’s back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn’t had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,” said Sirius bitterly. “Fudge just can’t bring himself to face it. It’s so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore’s lying to destabilize him.”

“You see the problem,” said Lupin. “While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it’s hard to convince people he’s back, especially as they really don’t want to believe it in the first place. What’s more, the Ministry’s leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they’re calling Dumbledore’s rumormongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything’s happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they’re using the Imperius Curse.”

“But you’re telling people, aren’t you?” said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin, and Tonks. “You’re letting people know he’s back?”

They all smiled humorlessly.

“Well, as everyone thinks I’m a mad mass murderer and the Ministry’s put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?” said Sirius restlessly.

“And I’m not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,” said Lupin. “It’s an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.”

“Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,” said Sirius, “and it’s very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.”

“We’ve managed to convince a couple of people, though,” said Mr. Weasley. “Tonks here, for one — she’s too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt’s been a real asset too. He’s in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he’s been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.”

“But if none of you’s putting the news out that Voldemort’s back —” Harry began.

“Who said none of us  was putting the news out?” said Sirius. “Why d’you think Dumbledore’s in such trouble?”

“What d’you mean?” Harry asked.

“They’re trying to discredit him,” said Lupin. “Didn’t you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he’d been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he’s getting old and losing his grip, but it’s not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort’s return. They’ve demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that’s the Wizard High Court — and they’re talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.”

“But Dumbledore says he doesn’t care what they do as long as they don’t take him off the Chocolate Frog cards,” said Bill, grinning.

“It’s no laughing matter,” said Mr. Weasley shortly. “If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore’s out there and wise to what he’s up to, he’s going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore’s out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.”

“But if Voldemort’s trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it’s bound to get out that he’s come back, isn’t it?” asked Harry desperately.

“Voldemort doesn’t march up to people’s houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,” said Sirius. “He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He’s well-practiced at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he’s interested in, he’s got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he’s concentrating on them at the moment.”

“What’s he after apart from followers?” Harry asked swiftly.

Emile  thought she saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius said, “Stuff he can only get by stealth.”

When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, “Like a weapon. Something he didn’t have last time.”

“When he was powerful before?”

“Yes.” “Like what kind of weapon?” said Harry. “Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?”

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry had not noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.

“I want you in bed, now. All of you,” she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione.

“You can’t boss us —” Fred began.

“Watch me,” snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. “You’ve given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.”

“Why not?” said Harry quickly. “I’ll join, I want to join, I want to fight —”

“No.” It was not Mrs. Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.� “The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,” he said. “Wizards who have left school,” he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths.

“There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you . . . I think Molly’s right, Sirius. We’ve said enough.”

Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons, Emile, and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognizing defeat, followed suit.

“I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,” she said as they reached the first landing. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny’s asleep,” she added to Hermione, “so try not to wake her up.”

“Asleep, yeah, right,” said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them good night and they were climbing to the next floor. “If Ginny’s not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs, then I’m a flobberworm. . . .”

“All right, Ron, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. “Off to bed with you.” “

’Night,” Harry and Ron said to the twins.

“Sleep tight,” said Fred, winking at them.

“Alright you three, off to bed with you,” Mrs. Weasley ushered them up to the third landing.

The went to their separate rooms without a word. Emile quickly changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed, expecting George and Fred to pop in and talk about what they had heard.

But they never came.

Chapter Text

Emile woke up at four am from another nightmare. The same bed, the same night. Her grandfather slowly dying, and there was nothing she could do. The hurricane was raging outside, the power was out. Something came out of the darkness.

“Emile?” Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen at around six in the morning. “Goodnes, what’s wrong?”

“Oh I, um, had a nightmare,” Emile said as she finished her fifth cup of tea.

That… that might have been my fault? I’m not sure.

What do you mean?

You have to go back to sleep for me to test this theory.

“Dear, you must go sleep some more,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly, putting her hand on Emile’s shoulder and gently guiding her towards the stairs.

“It’s fine, I’m not that-” Emile broke off with a huge yawn.

“It is not fine and you are going to sleep in, young lady,” Mrs. Weasley huffed as she followed Emile to her room, making sure she went into bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you,” She said before closing the door.

Emile lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, until she sank into an uneasy sleep.

“WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!”

Mrs. Weasley’s booming voice echoed throughout the house, waking Emile up.

Someone’s in trouble.

I bet it’s Mundungus.

He’s brilliant, he’s the best man in this pathetic Order.

Watch yourself or I’ll block you out.

“— COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN’T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE —”

Emile hopped out of bed and stretched before slipping on her slippers and Weasley sweater and heading downstairs. As Emile passed the portrait in the hallway she tripped over her own feet, thudding onto the floor.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —”

Somewhere on the second landing a door slammed shut as Emile scrambled to her feet. She grabbed the moth eaten curtains that covered the portrait and pulled them shut, holding them down until they screaming stopped.

“Emile, sorry if we woke you,” Mrs. Weasley smiled as Emile shuffled into the kitchen. Emile couldn’t help but notice that her face was extremely red.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Weasley. Where is everyone?”

“Oh they’re cleaning the drawing room,” She said as she began to magically whip up sandwiches. “As soon as you get dressed you are free to join us.”

“Alright,” Emile yawned and shuffled out of the kitchen. Once she reached her room she swapped her pajama pants for jeans and zipped up a hoodie, not bothering to put on a shirt over her bra. It was going to be another slow day, there was no need.

“I’m ready!” She called as she came into the drawing room, where everyone was eating sandwiches. Everyone, that was, except for Sirius and Harry, who were admiring a tapestry in the corner.

“About time,” George mumbled around his mouthful of sandwich.

“We thought you’d died,” Fred laughed as he passed a sandwich to Emile, who sat down in between George and Ginny.

“You missed the doxy hoard,” Ginny said as Emile chewed.

“Hurry up, you two, or there won’t be any food left,” Mrs. Weasley called to Sirius and Harry.

Soon they began cleaning again, sorting through the items in the room. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds, his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

“It’s okay,” he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, “must be Wartcap powder in there.”

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Emile noticed George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already lumpy pocket.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry’s arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy . There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open, a number of ancient seals and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius’s grandfather for “Services to the Ministry.” �

“It means he gave them a load of gold,” said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

Several times, Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Emile had never heard herself before.

I’ve used a majority of these!

Dear lord.

“It was my father’s,” said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. “Kreacher wasn’t quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father’s old trousers last week.”

For the next three days they worked on clearing the drawing room. Once it was finally decontaminated the only undesired item left was the tapestry on the wall and the rattling writing desk. Moody hadn’t been by recently so they hadn’t gotten much of a chance to ask him to check it out.

They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Snape might refer to their work as “cleaning,” but in Emile’s opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, “Master must do as Master wishes,” before turning away and muttering very loudly, “but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum. . . .”

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room. The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius’s mother to start shrieking again, and for Harry and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs. Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Snape flitted in and out of the house several times more, they also caught sight of Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat. She also seemed too busy to linger.

Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help; Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passersby. Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe.

During dinner on Wednesday evening Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and said quietly, “I’ve ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders.”

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Emile, and Ginny all stopped eating their chops and talking and looked over at him. Harry nodded and continued eating.

“How am I getting there?” he asked Mrs. Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned.

“Arthur’s taking you to work with him,” said Mrs. Weasley gently.

Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table.

“You can wait in my office until it’s time for the hearing,” he said.

Emile didn’t sleep well again that night. She was in a courtroom, being held down in a chair by chains.

“I didn’t do it!” She was screaming at Mr. Crouch. “Please don’t do this, don’t send me back to the dementors! Father, please! Mother! Do something!”

But it was too late. They were back. As the cold took over her, the one thing she could focus on where Mr. Crouch’s eyes boring into her own.

Emile sat up with a start, rubbing her eyes and squinting at the clock.

It’s four in the morning.

You saw that.

I did.

How?

I, I’m not sure. I didn’t want to. It must have been you.

Harry’s trial was bound to bring up some old memories.

Emile sighed and climbed out of bed, slipping on her hoodie and slippers before heading down to the kitchen.

You aren’t even going to try sleeping more?

Not without a cup of tea.

You’re so british.

The kitchen was empty, not that Emile expected anyone to be there. She lit the old fashioned gas lamp and turned on the stove, filling up a tea kettle with water and leaving it to boil. She put a sandwich together for herself and sat at the table, eating it slowly, until a loud whistle filled the kitchen. She filled a teapot with chamomile tea and set it back onto the table next to a teacup.

“Emile?” A concerned looking Lupin came in fifteen minutes before five.

“Morning,” Emile yawned as Tonks came in a few moment’s later.

“What’ve you got there?” She said as she opened the pot and took a sniff. “Oh, chamomile. I’ll have a cup of that, I’m exhausted.”

“Have you two been guarding the weapon?” Emile asked as Lupin made himself a sandwich.

“I have, Lupin has his own mission,” Tonks said as she poured herself the last of the chamomile tea.

“Morning everyone,” Mr. Weasley came into the room, fully dressed.

“Emile, how long have you been up?” Mrs. Weasley asked with a yawn as she followed her husband into the kitchen. Except she was in a purple, quilted dressing gown.

“Not that long,” Emile yawned.

An hour.

Oh shush. Not like sleep affects you in any way.

Ok but I can see how it affects you.

Aw, do you care for me?

To a certain extent yes. If you die then I die too, and how would I return to my master then?

I hate you.

Harry came in just as Emile finished her fourth cup of tea. Mrs. Weasley leapt to her feet the moment he entered.

“Breakfast,” she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.

“M-m-morning, Harry,” yawned Tonks.“Sleep all right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

“I’ve b-b-been up all night,” she said, with another shuddering yawn. “Come and sit down. . . .”

She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process.

“What do you want, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley called. “Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”

“Just — just toast, thanks,” said Harry.

Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, “What were you saying about Scrimgeour?”

“Oh . . . yeah . . . well, we need to be a bit more careful, he’s been asking Kingsley and me funny questions. . . .”

Emile got up at that moment, intent on going back to bed.

“Good luck Harry,” She whispered as she passed. “We’re all rooting for you.”

He gave a small nod in response.

Emile slept till noon and spent the afternoon organizing her room. Sirius came in to talk with her for a bit about her plans for the school year.

“Well, I don’t plan on staying here long. Just till I graduate, then hopefully I can manage to get a job or apprenticeship somewhere. I have enough money to get me started with my own place, so that isn’t too much of a problem.”

“Pity,” Sirius said. “The house will be lonely without you kids.”

As they ate lunch they sat around the table, waiting for Harry to return. When he finally showed up, breathless with excitement, all hell broke loose.

“I knew it!” yelled Ron, punching the air. “You always get away with stuff!”

“They were bound to clear you,” said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. “There was no case against you, none at all. . . .”

“Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I’d get off,” said Harry, smiling.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went “He got off, he got off, he got off —”

“That’s enough, settle down!” shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. “Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —”

“What?” said Sirius sharply. “He got off, he got off, he got off —” “Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level� nine, then they went up to Fudge’s office together. Dumbledore ought to know.”

“Absolutely,” said Sirius. “We’ll tell him, don’t worry.”

“Well, I’d better get going, there’s a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —”

“He got off, he got off, he got off —”

“That’s enough — Fred — George — Ginny!” said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. “Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast. . . .”

Ron and Hermione sat across from Harry at one end of the table. Emile, who had been reading at the other, was pulled up by George.

“Come on, join in!” He said giddily.

“Yeah Em, You aren’t too old to have fun!” Fred laughed.

“He got off, he got off,” Ginny chanted in turn with the boys as each one talked to Emile, who joined in.

“ ’Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,” said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes onto everyone’s plates.

“Yeah, he swung it for me,” said Harry.

Ron paused with a mouthful of mashed potatoes,“I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know.”

“I don’t think he’ll be able to, Ron,” said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. “He’s really very busy at the moment.”

The four of them were jumping in a circle now. “HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF —”

“SHUT UP!” roared Mrs. Weasley.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were rather uneventful. The had finished cleaning the house, so there wasn’t much left to do. One would think that living in the headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement would be juicy and exciting, but Mrs. Weasley was determined to keep them as far away from the conversations as she possibly could.

Outside of Emile’s lessons with Snape, she wasn’t really participating in Order meeting’s anymore. It was rather boring now that she knew what was going on, mainly discussing shifts and who in the ministry seemed to be onto them.

One uneventful Saturday, Tonks escorted Emile and George back to the Burrow to check on Nepeta. George only came because he needed to fetch some supplies and his broomstick.

“Blimey, the last day of summer holiday’s is tomorrow!” Tonks said a bit wistfully as she helped Emile clean the tack.

“We’ll miss you too, Tonks,” Emile said with a grin, momentarily looking up from where she was polishing a saddle.

“Are we ready to take her for a ride?” George said as he walked into the makeshift barn, broomstick in one hand and box in the other.

“What have you got in there?” Tonks tried to look inside the box, but was immediately chased away by George.

“Nothing important,’ He said as his face turned a bit red.

“Joke shop items,” Emile said to Tonks, hanging up the saddle as George huffed behind her.

“We can ride her as soon as I brush her, hand me that box there.”

Emile spaced out as she brushed Nepeta, not paying attention to the conversation behind her.

Your horse seems nice.

Would you like to see her?

Was it that obvious?

You get ten seconds.

Emile closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

Ok open them now.

There.

Oh she’s a beauty, she’s an Arabian, right?

Since when do you know your horses?

I’ve always found them interesting.

Ok, time’s up.

“You alright Emile?” Tonks called as Emile stood up straight, shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Emile said as she grabbed the saddle blanket. “Let’s take her out for a spin.”

Tonks was nervous about letting Emile ride far, until George let her borrow his broomstick so that she could keep an eye on her.

“Oh, wait. I can’t leave George here alone,” Tonks chewed on her lip.

“He can ride with me,” Emile said, holding out her hand to the redhead.

“I can?” George took it, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Of course,” Emile rolled her eyes and pulled him up. It was a bit uncomfortable having two people on one saddle, but once George got over his awkwardness and held onto her waist it wasn’t so bad.

“Why don’t you go into a field related to Care of Magical Creatures?” George asked as the passed the pond they had ice skated on two Christmases ago.

“Technically I am,” Emile said with a grin. “You need to get wand cores somehow, and It isn’t exactly simple to get a unicorn hair.”

“Knowing you, you’ll find a simple way,” George said with a smirk.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Emile said, slightly offended.

“It means you’re lazy.”

Well, he isn’t wrong.

Don’t you start as well.

Sorry.

No you’re not.

“We ought to start heading back soon!” Tonks called down to them as the neared the rise that led down to the muggle village.

The next day booklists arrived. Ron came into Emile’s room holding the envelope addressed to her.

“Toss it onto the bed,” She called from the corner. In this specific corner she had moved a bookshelf and placed a full length mirror to form sort of a changing area, and she was trying on last years robes. She hadn’t grown in the past year, so they still fit well.

Emile opened the letter as soon as she changed back into shorts and a tank top. All of her books were the same, except for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard,” She read aloud, a moment before a loud crack sounded and Fred and George appeared in front of her.

“So Dumbledore found a new teacher,” Fred said with a frown.

“He was having trouble finding one too, I hear,” Emile said as she put the booklist down and pulled out the usual letter, wondering if it might contain a clue as to who the new teacher was.

“No surprise there, really,” Fred snorted. “Come on George, let’s go check on Harry and Ron.”

With another loud crack the two of them disapparated, leaving Emile alone to gawk at the badge that had tumbled out alongside the train ticket.

I’m Head Girl!

No surprise there. If I was a teacher I would recomend you too.

This is fantastic! I’ve got to write to Lee to see if he’s Head Boy.

He most likely is. You two have been prefects for the past two years. But don’t write to him when you’ll just see him tomorrow.

Good point. Head Girl. Blimey.

A few minutes later there was a loud crack and the twins faces appeared behind Emile in the mirror.

“Oh no, not you too,” Fred groaned, his face in his hands.

“I was only trying it on!” Emile said indignantly, taking the badge off the front of the blouse she had changed into.

“That makes three then,” George said with a sigh, sitting down on Emile’s bed. “Mom’s going to explode.”

“I’m just going to make a wild guess and say Hermione and Harry are prefects?” Emile said as she joined him.

“Hermione and Ron,” Fred said, putting emphasis on the second name.

“Ron? Really? Wow, I mean it isn’t completely unexpected but with Harry being the chosen one and all it just seemed like he’d be the one.”

“Mom’s getting ickle Ronnie-kins a new broom and everything,” George frowned.

“Oh stop it you two,” Emile said, crossing her arms. “You ought to be happy for your brother.”

At that moment Mrs. Weasley’s voice came from outside Emile’s door, and the twins disapparated.

“Emile! I’m off to Diagon Alley. Could you make a small list of the items you’re missing?” Mrs. Weasley stuck her head into the room, smiling.

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley,” Emile said as she put the badge into her pocket. Hermione and Ron deserved the glory now.

Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read “Congratulations Ron and Hermione — New Prefects”. She looked in a better mood than Emile had seen her all holiday.

“I’m all packed,” Emile said as she walked in. “Wow, this place looks great!”

“I thought we’d have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,” she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. “Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I’ve sent them both owls and they’re thrilled,” she added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly.

“Evening Mad Eye,” Emile chirped as he sat down next to her.

“Congratulations on the badge,” He growled back.

Why was he looking at your pants?

You’re disgusting.

“Oh, Alastor, I am glad you’re here,” said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his traveling cloak. “We’ve been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what’s inside it? We haven’t wanted to open it just in case it’s something really nasty.”

“No problem, Molly . . .” Moody’s electric-blue eye swiveled upward and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Drawing room . . .” he growled, as the pupil contracted. “Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it. . . . Yeah, it’s a boggart. . . . Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?”

“No, no, I’ll do it myself later,” beamed Mrs. Weasley. “You have your drink. We’re having a little bit of a celebration, actually. . . .” She gestured at the scarlet banner. “Fourth prefect in the family!” she said fondly, ruffling Ron’s hair.

“Prefect, eh?” growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swiveling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.

“Well, congratulations,” said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you. . . .”

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody’s traveling cloak.

“Well, I think a toast is in order,” said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. “To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!”

“Aren’t you going to tell them?” Fred whispered in her ear as the adults cheered.

“Nope,” Emile whispered back as she helped herself to a baked potato.

“I was never a prefect myself,” said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.”

“Like what?” said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato. “Like the ability to behave myself,” said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.

“What about you, Sirius?” Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh.

“No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” said Lupin. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.”

Mundungus was whispering with Fred and George in the corner. Emile joined them a moment before Harry did.

“Look what Dung’s gotten us,” said George, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shriveled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.

“Venomous Tentacula seeds,” said George. “We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes but they’re a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance so we’ve been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them.”

“Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?” said Fred.

“Wiv all the trouble I went to to get ’em?” said Mundungus, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. “I’m sorry, lads, but I’m not taking a Knut under twenty.”

“Dung likes his little joke,” Fred said to Harry.

“Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of knarl quills,” said George.

“Be careful,” Harry warned them quietly.

“What?” said Fred. “Mum’s busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we’re okay.”

“But Moody could have his eye on you,” Harry pointed out.

Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder.

“Good point, that,” he grunted. “Alright, lads, ten it is, if you’ll take ’em quick.”

“Cheers, Harry!” said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins’ outstretched hands and scuttled off toward the food. “We’d better get these upstairs. Coming, Em?”

“I’ll stay here and ward of your mother if she asks questions,” Emile said as she went to get more food.

“I doubt she’ll notice, she has Ronnie-kins to fawn over,” Fred snorted as they crept away from the party.

You seem a bit down.

I can’t wait for school tomorrow. And I’m so tired.

Mrs. Weasley yawned widely. “Well, I think I’ll sort out that boggart before I turn in. . . . Arthur, I don’t want this lot up too late, all right? ’Night, Harry, dear.”

“Wotcher, Emile,” Tonks smiled as she sat down next to her with Bill.

“Hello Tonks, Bill.”

“Excited for your seventh year of school?” Bill asked as Emile took a gulp of butterbeer.

“Yeah, nervous for the N.E.W.T.NEWT’s,” Emile turned to Tonks. “How did you do on them? Where they worst then the O.W.L.OWL’s?”

“Well I did pretty good, good enough to become an Auror,” Tonks said with a laugh.

“They aren’t too bad, it’s a bit better then the O.W.L.OWL’s because there isn’t as many tests you need to prepare for,” Bill smiled.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Mad-Eye?” Sirius said a bit loudly as he sat down across from them and next to the Auror.

“A picture of the original Order,” Mad Eye growled and placed the picture down on the table, his magical eye rolling backwards.

“Look there Tonks, Frank and Alice Longbottom,” Lupin said as he drew the picture closer.

“Poor devils,” growled Mad Eye. “Better dead then what happened to them. Oi, Remus, Sirius, go check on Molly in the drawing room, will you?”

The two men leapt to their feet and ran out of the room, leaving Tonks to talk with Mad Eye and Emile with the picture.

Emile felt her gut wrench as she stared at her mother. She didn’t resemble her at all, her father said she took after him. But that woman’s blood ran through her veins.

I haven’t seen her in years.

You’ve been in Azkaban.

And she’s been in St. Mungo’s.

She has?

Permanent resident. Bellatrix has one hell of a Cruciatus Curse.

“Excuse me,” Emile choked out as she grabbed her butterbeer and slipped out of the crowded basement.

She headed up to her room, clutching the mug. On her way up the stairs she ran into the twins, and gave them a small smile as she passed. In her room, she locked the door drew the curtains, turning on the muggle radio. As the low notes of a cello hummed throughout the room Emile curled up on the bed and fell asleep.

Sometime in the night Emile woke up. She had been dreaming about her mother, her face twisted with pain. The screams still echoed in her mind.

“Aguamenti,” she whispered and pointed her wand into an empty cup by her bed. She quickly drained the cool water as she sat up in bed staring into the darkness.

It’s four in the morning.

I need to finish packing.

It’s four in the morning.

There’s a lot to pack.

It’s four in the morning.

Is that all you’re going to say?

You have seven hours. Go back to sleep.

I’m fine, I’ve gotten six hours of sleep. I can last a while.

Emile went over to the piles next to her trunk and began packing everything in neatly. First went the broom, books, containers of rat food, and the boxes of room decorations and photographs. Then her clothes, neatly stacked and rolled up to take up as little space as possible. On top of that went her quilts and blankets and the remaining space was taken up by pillows. In her mokeskin pouch she put her sketchbook, camera and film, pencil pouch, wallet, and robes to change into. By the time she had finished it was six in the morning.

Emile snuck downstairs and made a few slices of toast the she carried up to her room, where she sat on the windowsill and watched the sun rise. Soon the house began to come to life. First Mrs. Weasley woke up, taking a morning shower before getting started in the kitchen. Then Ginny and Hermione, who were soon joined by the twins. Emile carried her trunk downstairs, being the first to put it in the hallway before returning upstairs, passing a sleepy Ron as she went.

On her way back down with Carrot’s cage and her mokeskin pouch, Emile watched as Fred and George bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.

“— COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS —”

“— FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS —”

Mrs. Weasley stormed past Emile, who was standing in the hallway trying her best not to laugh. Ginny would be fine, Mrs. Weasley was an experienced mother who knew how to heal concussions, scrapes, and bruises.

As Emile talking with the twins while they ate eggs, Mad Eye strolled in. He was wearing a bowler hat that was pulled low over his face to hide his magical eye.

“We’re just about ready,” Mrs. Weasley wheezed from next to a healed Ginny.

“Sorry Molly, we can’t leave until Sturgis Podmore shows up. Can’t have the guard be a member short, you never know what could happen,” Mad Eye looked over at Fred, Emie, and George. “Constant Vigilance.”

“WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

Mrs. Black’s portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again anyway.

“Harry, you’re to come with me and Tonks,” shouted Mrs. Weasley over the repeated screeches of “MUDBLOODS ! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!”

“Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor’s going to deal with the luggage. . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!”

A bearlike black dog had appeared at Harry’s side as Harry clambered over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh honestly . . .” said Mrs. Weasley despairingly, “well, on your own head be it!”

She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them.

“Alright. Ron, Hermione, with me!” Mr. Weasley called and they too left.

“The rest of you come with me!” Lupin called to Emile, Ginny, and the twins.

“I’ll be right behind ya,” Mad Eye growled as Lupin closed the door behind them.

It took them twenty minutes to reach King’s Cross by foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than a hungover man making rude comments to Emile and Ginny.

“Disgusting,” Ginny’s nose wrinkled as the walked off, the boys flanking the girls.

“That’s men,” Emile shrugged.

“Not all men are like that,” Lupin said with a quizzical smile at Emile.

Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families.

“Darn it, we’re the last to arrive,” Fred pouted as they caught sight of the rest of the group next to Mad Eye Moody.

“No trouble?” growled Moody.

“Nothing,” said Lupin.

“I’ll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore,” said Moody. “That’s the second time he’s not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus.”

“Well, look after yourselves,” said Lupin, shaking hands all round. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You too, Harry. Be careful.”

“Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled,” said Moody, shaking Harry’s hand too. “And don’t forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don’t put it in a letter at all. That goes for all of you,” He added with a look at all the kids, his magical eye lingering on Emile.

It’s been great meeting all of you,” said Tonks, hugging Emile, Hermione, and Ginny. “We’ll see you soon, I expect.”

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train.

“Quick, quick,” said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, hugging them at random. “Write. . . . Be good. . . . If you’ve forgotten anything we’ll send it on. . . . Onto the train, now, hurry. . . .”

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry’s shoulders.

Jesus Christ act more like a dog.

Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, “For heaven’s sake act more like a dog, Sirius!”

“See you!” Harry called out of the open window as the train began to move, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved beside him. The figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly but the black dog was bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail; blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, and then they turned the corner, and Sirius was gone.

“He shouldn’t have come with us,” said Hermione in a worried voice.

“Oh lighten up,” said Ron, “he hasn’t seen daylight for months, poor bloke.”

“Well,” said Fred, clapping his hands together, “can’t stand around chatting all day, we’ve got business to discuss with Lee. See you later.”

Emile followed the twins down the corridor and out of sight, levitating their trunks behind them.

“Don’t you have Head Girl responsibilities to take care of?” George asked once they had stowed their trunks in a compartment that Angelina and Alicia were sitting in.

“Probably,” Emile shrugged. “I’ll be back later, I guess.”

“See you!” George waved as she walked away down the carriages.

Emile joined the group of Prefects and Head boy’s and girl’s in the prefects carriage. She sat and listened as the Ravenclaw Head boy and girl explain the prefect duties to them. Hermione was anxiously taking notes in the corner. Afterwards everyone was free to go about their business.

“Hey there, Emile,” One of Cedric’s old friends came up to her. “I see you’re Head girl.”

“Yes but I have no idea who’s Head boy,” Emile looked around the carriage.

“Oh, that would be Nate,” the Hufflepuff nodded to a tall, dark haired boy sitting by the window, a book open in front of him.

Are you checking him out?

No, but this is weird. Since when do new kids become Head Boy?

Well the rest of your year seems pretty incompetent.

Watch it Barty, those are my friends.

Don’t call me Barty.