Chapter Text
Jhoanna Roathwell has always been the subject of scrutiny and curious looks from young Hogwarts students and the annoyed huffs of girls in her year. She’s not mean by any means, as she mostly keeps to herself, and if she’s not alone, the girl will have her tall, model-like cousin as her company. However, their presence together attracts the eyes of the entire school community. There’s even gossip that the Sorting Hat made a mistake in their house selection, as they seem to be unconventional Ravenclaws. Not to mention, Jhoanna is a hatstall.
Jhoanna almost has the face of a charmer, with striking gray eyes, long straight hair, and big glasses—if her expression weren’t always so serious and her nose buried in a book. This demeanor often contrasts sharply with her looks. She doesn’t care about the judging looks she receives on a daily basis. Gwen Apsley, on the other hand, has her hair in a ginger bob that gives an interesting contrast against the Ravenclaw blue of her robes. Her dark brown eyes often look menacing, as if they could send you straight to the hospital wing. Interestingly, despite having a scary reputation, the two can’t escape the few presumptuous young wizards who want a piece of the mysterious duo.
“Potions is in 30 minutes, Tin.” Jhoanna heard the familiar click of heeled boots even before Gwen’s voice burst her little bubble.
Humming in response, she continued to read the pages of the book she found in the Muggle literature section of the library—Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gwen leaned casually on the chair next to Jhoanna’s seat, her eyes scanning the cover of the book that held her cousin’s attention. “Interesting.”
Jhoanna finally broke her focus and raised an eyebrow at her ginger-haired cousin. “You’ve already read this?” she asked, noting the small smirk that had formed on Gwen’s lips. “Since when did these types of Muggle books pique your interest?”
“Since you went to the Philippines last summer and I had to spend weeks in my parents’ manor doing absolutely everything to avoid them.” Gwen shrugged. “I want to get the front-row seat today.”
Her cousin knows her way around Potions, and the seating arrangement will not make a difference. She’s also aware that Gwen only gets the front-row seat when she’s being cheeky. The usual poor victim is the certain loud Gryffindor who barely gets a passing grade in Potions.
As Jhoanna continued to scan the words of the classic novel, Gwen sighed in defeat and sat in the empty chair beside her. Unlike her cousin, the ginger-haired witch hated the confines and darkness of the library. She preferred open spaces. The library in their family manor had massive bookshelves and windows that allowed natural light to pass through. The Hogwarts library, on the other hand, was gloomy, dark, and cold, which Gwen found unappealing.
“You don’t have to wait for me, you know that,” Jhoanna said, casting a sideways glance at her cousin.
“I know,” Gwen replied. “I just don’t want you to be completely late, since David seems to be waiting for you outside the library.”
Jhoanna inwardly groaned at the mention of David. David, their Quidditch team’s Beater, had taken a keen interest in her, following her whenever he caught her alone. The boy was terrified of Gwen.
Gwen, Merlin forgive her, had patience as long as the line that would run through the Quidditch pitch ten times—if it was her cousin. For boys, on the other hand, it would only take two tries. The second one would involve a professor and an hour of detention with Professor Dumbledore himself. David had to be sent to the hospital wing for 48 hours for puking up slugs. It was terrifying.
But that’s Gwen to others.
To Jhoanna, Gwen is like an older sister who will annoy you to death and beat you at magical chess games. Someone who’ll sneak out cookies from the kitchen for them to eat during their late-night study sessions. Gwen is someone who consumes an unhealthy amount of chocolates and is good at making chicken soup. A friend who will give her a glass of milk when her nightmares keep her awake night after night. Gwen, who will buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day and wait for her before and after every class so they can have their meals together. Who will watch practice games and take notes of new strategies they can use in Quidditch matches.
“You traumatized the poor boy, Gwen,” Jhoanna said, torn between feeling bad and tolerating her cousin’s behavior.
Gwen grinned.
This is them behind the cold walls of Hogwarts.
Gwen is fully aware that Jhoanna can handle herself. She’s great at duels. Her own body is a witness to her wit and power. Their parents trained them both, sometimes dueling with them themselves.
Yet to Gwen, Jhoanna might be untouchable, but she’s also someone who often gets too caught up in her own little bubble and forgets to eat. She’s someone who mostly reads romance books in her free time. A sister who will buy her bags of treats and chocolates from wherever to satisfy Gwen’s sweet tooth. A friend who will have two copies of everything—from owned books to academic notes—just in case Gwen needs them. Jhoanna is someone who easily falls ill when caught in the rain and needs constant care, including hot soup prepared by her cousin. She’s someone who will still play magical chess with her after doing mountains of homework because she knows that Gwen will be grumpy if she doesn’t get her daily dose of game time. Jhoanna is someone who will silently curse anyone for talking nonsense about Gwen. She’s someone who will pick Gwen up on her broomstick so she can get away from her overbearing parents. Jhoanna has a cold exterior but a soft heart.
“He deserves it,” Gwen shrugged, not bothered by the results and potential consequences of her actions if it means protecting the younger witch.
Jhoanna offered her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
*****
As they walked through the cold, winding hallways of Hogwarts, pairs of eyes followed their every move. Murmurs, eye rolls, lovesick stares, and smirks were plastered on the faces of the students they passed. It was a scene that had become all too familiar to them. For some, they were objects of admiration, mysterious and unattainable. For others, they were a source of irritation or jealousy. The constant attention was an inescapable part of their daily lives, and it had long since lost its sting.
Gwen didn’t even falter, her expression indifferent, while Jhoanna’s face remained neutral, the comments bouncing off her like raindrops.
When they reached the Potions room, everyone was already seated, and the room was filled with murmurs and laughter. Gwen’s target seat was already occupied by Sheena Cantwell, a Muggleborn, who had the loudest laugh she’d ever heard. Beside her was her fellow Gryffindor, Stacey Severine, who gave the younger of the two Ravenclaws an eye roll. Stacey hated her for some reason. Her cousin assumed it must be because she had more admirers than Stacey. After all, Stacey Severine was a self-proclaimed princess who thrived on attention and praise.
Two girls with green and silver ties occupied the other seats at the front. Colet Vernon, the only child of the Vernons—two of the most promising wizards of their time who died at the hands of the Dark Lord—had a face contorted in what seemed like a permanent frown whenever she was in the room. She competed with Stacey in hating her and her cousin. Her best friend, Mikha Limbrey, sat with her flaming red hair that hurt Jhoanna’s eyes. She looked like a walking Christmas ball, but Jhoanna also commended her rebellious nature. She once overheard Professor McGonagall asking her to dye her hair black again, but the girl just ignored it. Perks of being a Slytherin heiress.
Behind them sat two soft-looking girls—Aiah Archer, a Hufflepuff who looked like she was taken out of a romance novel with her sweet smile, approachable nature, brains, and athletic capabilities, and Maloi Richardson, a half-blood, who was doodling in her worn-out sketchbook. A bowtruckle was peeking from the pocket of her blazer. It seemed like it was one of Professor Scamander’s bowtruckles, Titus.
As they made their way to their seats, the double doors of the old Potions room opened loudly as Professor Snape entered, clad in his long robe. He was early—five minutes early, to be precise—but that did nothing to deter him from making a snide remark.
“My class is not a clothing store for the two of you to look like standing dolls,” Snape sneered. “Take your seats, Miss Roathwell and Miss Apsley. Perhaps instead of strutting in the hallways like models in a show, try to run and not be late for my class.”
Jhoanna heard Mikha snicker while Sheena and Stacey exchanged a smug high-five as if Snape’s comment had somehow validated their own dislike for the Ravenclaws. Gwen, however, remained unbothered by Snape’s demeanor. She just shrugged off his words and took a seat behind Sheena, close to the window, leaving Jhoanna no choice but to take the seat behind Stacey. Beside her, Aiah offered her a small, sympathetic smile.
“We’re not late,” Jhoanna responded calmly, her voice steady as she addressed the Potions professor. “You’re early, Professor.”
She saw Colet twitch at her remark in her peripheral vision.
“I see some houses fail to instill proper manners in their students,” Snape said icily. “Five points from Ravenclaw—for tardiness.”
A series of groans from their fellow Ravenclaws echoed in the classroom. Jhoanna looked at her cousin, who was already sporting a bored, half-lidded gaze. “Chatterley’s fault,” Gwen muttered, referring to the book Jhoanna had been reading in the library.
Jhoanna knew the five-point deduction was insignificant in the grand scheme of things; the groans from her housemates only reinforced the idea that Snape was always looking for an excuse to make life difficult for anyone not in Slytherin. It wasn’t a particularly surprising move on his part.
Still, they could easily get the points back anyway.
*****
Potions class passed in a blur, with Slytherin gaining 15 points and Ravenclaw 10, courtesy of Colet Vernon, who made it her job to compete with Gwen Apsley in answering Snape’s questions regarding the contents and origin of certain potions. There was a smug satisfaction on Colet’s face after the class, while Gwen remained unfazed, not really caring about the point battle.
Jhoanna was quiet throughout, almost detached from the competitive energy of the room, much to Colet’s annoyance. She didn’t really participate, but she still managed to be the best. Her concoctions were always perfect, and Colet had been trying to beat the girl for three years now, but she had never succeeded. Jhoanna’s talent wasn’t loud or boastful—it was simply there, quiet and unassuming, but undeniable. It was maddening. Winning the House Cup didn’t bother the young Slytherin witch that much. Winning against Jhoanna Roathwell herself did.
“Practical next week. Dismissed.” Professor Snape’s voice cut through the post-class chatter before he entered his office behind the chalkboard, leaving the students to pack up their things.
“Have you heard the news?”
“It’ll probably be in the morning papers tomorrow.”
“So that’s why it’s so eerie this morning.”
“Oi, Guzman, what are you gossiping about?” Sheena’s loud, brash voice rang out in the room, making Colet pause while fixing her body bag. She glanced around the room, her eyes meeting Jhoanna’s usual empty ones.
She rolled her eyes at the girl. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
Colet would admit that despite her annoyance at Jhoanna, the Ravenclaw girl intrigued her. They often clashed, but she never elicited any sort of reaction from her, no matter how extreme her choice of words was. She had looked into many pairs of eyes, but there was something unsettling about how Jhoanna’s eyes looked so gray and dull in contrast to her fair skin and charming face.
“—dementors.”
Colet snapped her head toward the source of the gossip. All their attention was on the Gryffindor, Guzman.
“Said the Headmaster will make an announcement later. There are a few of them outside the premises already. Scary, if I’m being honest.”
“Why would there be Dementors in Hogwarts? It’s not allowed,” Aiah Archer asked.
“Heard two Azkaban prisoners escaped. Sirius Black. Menacing, that one. He killed his friends.”
Colet could feel her best friend’s gaze on the back of her head. Black. Her fists clenched in anger.
The traitor.
“Fenrir Greyback’s on the loose too.”
Colet walked out of the Potions room with Mikha in tow. Her mind kept running back to the conversation a few minutes ago. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the strap of her bag.
Sirius Black is out of Azkaban.
He was her parents’ best friend. The one who betrayed them. And now he’s out there when he’s supposed to be paying for his sins. “He was supposed to rot in there,” Colet whispered, her voice trembling with anger.
Two high-profile prisoners escaped the supposedly inescapable prison. Both were known to be the Dark Lord’s followers. Hogwarts was already a fortress, yet Dementors would be around inside the school premises.
“Colet, calm down,” the red-haired witch tried, as she jogged to match her best friend’s pace. “I’ll write to my father later. The Ministry is probably doing everything they can.”
“How the hell did it even happen, Mikha?” Colet asked. Her voice slightly shook as her uncontained anger started to mix with her worries. “All Death Eaters were captured. Escape is only slightly possible if there’s someone outside to help them.” It wasn’t just the news of Black’s escape—it was the helplessness that accompanied it.
Colet’s steps slowed as they reached the entrance hall. The weight of the conversation, the revelation that the Dementors were here, within the Hogwarts grounds, only made everything more surreal. She glanced out of the towering windows, half-expecting to see one of the dark, looming figures hovering just beyond the castle’s protective boundaries. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.
But what chilled her more was the memory of her parents—bright, powerful wizards who had been betrayed by someone they had trusted. And now, that man, Sirius Black, was free.
Mikha, being born into one of the most powerful political families of the modern wizarding world, had her way around political news before it even made public noise. Yet, this particular news was new to her. Not to mention that she only heard it through one of those annoying Gryffindors. Mr. Limbrey, in hopes that one of his children would follow his career path, never shielded Mikha and her older siblings from politics. It was both beneficial and dangerous for the young witch, yet with the wealth the Limbrey family built through multiple generations, danger could be countered.
“I know.” Mikha frowned. “But let’s not overthink everything. I’m sure Father’s already on the move.”
*****
The cloud outside hung heavy and low, casting a somber shadow over the Hogwarts grounds. Jhoanna could see a few students sitting in the garden from the window of the Ravenclaw Tower. Some had books in their hands, unbothered by the coldness of the wind breeze that seemed to be a telltale sign of looming dangers. Others were simply gossiping. A few were zooming on their broomsticks and playing catch with a quaffle.
Meanwhile, Gwen was sitting on the single couch, her mind seeming to run a thousand miles per hour. It was clear that her thoughts were far from the pages of the book she was holding. Jhoanna couldn’t find the words to comfort her. She felt the weight of it too.
The two of them shared every class, every practice, every victory together. When they weren’t around each other, Jhoanna would be at her usual table in the library while Gwen would either be in the kitchen, bribing the elves to make her cookies, or at the Quidditch pitch, watching practice plays and analyzing counter-tactics for the other teams.
In Jhoanna’s opinion, Gwen should be the captain of their Quidditch team. When the former captain was choosing between the two of them, Gwen declined, much to her annoyance, but it was no surprise to her. If there was any team her cousin would like to lead, it would be the chess team.
Both were brilliant strategists, but Jhoanna, according to Gwen, was a better flyer and more adaptable to sudden changes. That’s why she was a chaser. Despite not watching practice games often, Jhoanna could immediately adjust their plays based on the current performance of the opposing team. Quidditch could be unpredictable sometimes, and Jhoanna was the perfect captain for them despite being only in her fourth year. They were each other’s complement—Jhoanna, with her natural flying ability and adaptability, and Gwen, with her sharp mind and meticulous planning.
They were almost inseparable: the captain and vice-captain of the Quidditch team. They were also each other’s protectors.
“They’re starting, Gwen.” Jhoanna broke the silence in their shared dorm room. “He’ll be here in no time.”
Gwen could only stare at the unsolved Rubik’s cube on their shared coffee table.