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Chapter Text

Fate owed me a couple of go-arounds.

Get to know Ginny Weasley.

Harry J. Potter.

Eleven year old Hallie J. Potter squints at the handwriting on the scrap of a note that showed up on her trunk with no warning.

It's messy handwriting, indistinct, hurried. But it bears a big similarity to her own looping, rushed script. Forced into cursive by an education system more determined to prioritise the looks of her handwriting than its legibility, except this handwriting looks like a boy’s and that doesn’t make sense.

The note is signed by one Harry J. Potter, and Hallie picks up the rough material -is this parchment? She wonders, as she turns it over in slim fingers, it looks like parchment!- Her eyes trace the letters and she mimes holding a pen -should she be using a quill? When Hagrid took her to Diagon Alley, people used quills-.

Briefly, her hand stops as she’s sidetracked by memories of her trip to Diagon Alley.

“It’s not Hah-lee sir, say it like Hayley”

“The wand chooses the Witch, Miss Potter.”

“'Er name's Hedwig so I’m told, I think she likes you already!”

“Thirteen and a half inches, Red Oak and Phoenix Feather, supple but not overly so, accurate and speedy, trading variety for precision; a duelist’s wand, if I had to guess. Very interesting.”

The invisible tip of her imaginary pen traces over the letters as her fingers move of their own accord. She can almost feel how she would have written it. The strokes of the words and the loops of the lowercase letters, the blocky, semi-cursive penmanship feels strangely familiar in her fingers, striking a chord in her deep memory.

I wonder if this is normal, for a Witch. She thinks, thumb worrying at the edge of the note. I wonder who Ginny Weasley is.

*~*

“-packed with muggles, of course-” Hallie’s head snaps up, that word, “muggles”. They must be magical.

She hurries in the direction the voice had come from, spying a flash of bright red hair in the crowd and intrinsically knowing that was what she should run to.

“Nine and three-quarters! Mum, can’t I go…?”

“You’re not old enough Ginny…”

Hallie is so shocked that she almost runs into the kind-looking woman with the bright red hair.

“E-excuse me?” Her voice is piping and tremulous and she hates how that sounds, but the woman looks at her with a kind smile that somewhat lessens the nerves that twist in her stomach like the snake she saw and spoke to during Dudley’s ill-fated zoo trip.

“Yes dear?” Kind eyes take stock of Hallie’s bone-skinny frame and ill-fitting clothes. “Did you get separated from your parents?”

Hallie shakes her head mutely, eyes downcast.

“My Aunt and Uncle and Cousin have already left, and I don’t know…” She twists her fingers, nerves making a comeback. “I don’t know how to get to the platform?”

“I can show you!” The girl who looks about Hallie’s age grins widely at her, she abruptly turns to her Mum with a pleading but somewhat chagrined expression. “Can I show her Mum?”

“Of course dear.” The kind lady smiles indulgently and takes a step back.

“Wicked.” The girl who must be Ginny Weasley grins and steps next to Hallie, standing with her hands on the bar of the trolley. Their shoulders press together and Hallie feels a rush of warmth and familiarity as Ginny begins pushing, her own feet moving into a run automatically to keep up.

Deep in the bowels of the Ministry for Magic, an iron-clasped volume proceeds to flip itself open before a plain white quill scratches two names and a date on a blank page.

In his office at Hogwarts, Albus Dumblredore looks up as one of the unceasingly whirling instruments in his office gives a frantic little whine.

Hallie doesn’t even register the wall until they’re about to hit it, and when they pass straight through, she can’t help but gasp at the sight.

“I’m Ginny.” Comes the voice quietly from her left, and Hallie smiles wide as she turns to see Ginny’s similarly ecstatic expression.

“I’m Hallie,” She replies. “Hallie Potter.”

Ginny gasps and when her eyes flicker to Hallie’s forehead, the dark-haired girl lifts up her bangs to reveal the lightning bolt scar.

“You’re-.”

“Apparently famous.” Hallie huffs, pushing the trolley gently-as-can-be until Ginny starts rolling it with her.

The glittering crimson expanse of the train looms over them, emblazoned with a clear Hogwarts Express on its flank.

“Do you think we could be-” Ginny cuts herself off, awkwardly, and Hallie looks at her with a bright smile.

“Friends, right?”

It was pretty obvious what Ginny was going to say. She could just feel it.

“Yeah!” Ginny’s smile gets even wider, and Hallie nods enthusiastically.

“I would like that, I’m kind of new to magic, so…” She coughs. “Maybe you could help me out?”

“We can write!” Ginny puts her hand on Hallie’s. “You can tell me all about the school, and I’ll tell you all about home.”

“That seems like a fair trade.” Hallie looks at Ginny’s hand covering hers and feels a twinge of sadness. “I should probably get my stuff on the train.”

“Probably.” Neither of them move their hands before someone sets a gentle hand on Ginny’s shoulder.

“There you are dear.”

“Mum!” Ginny looks up at her mother with wide eyes. “This is Hallie Potter!”

“H-hello Mrs Weasley.” Hallie trails off and while Ginny looks at her a little oddly out of the corner of her eye, Mrs. Weasley smiles wide and happy, and it makes Hallie feel at home.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Hallie dear.” She gently pulls Ginny away. “You’d best get your things on the train, it’ll be off soon.”

Hallie nods, feeling strangely bereft at the loss of contact with Ginny’s skin, but she shoulders her trunk onto the train with difficulty, and from there, her term gets off to a flying start.

*~*

When the sorting hat is dropped on her head, Hallie Potter hears another voice in her head for the first time in her life.

“Well now, what do we have here…”

“What?” Hallie says, before she gets a quiet “shhh” in an old, wizened voice.

“Mmm there’s a lot in here isn’t there. Powerful, courageous, loyal, cunning, a lot of traits for one young girl, even one so lauded at a young age…” The voice is raspy, croaking, with an undercurrent like the crunch of car tyres on the Dursley’s gravel driveway. “But they don’t seem to match up. How can you be- aha!” There’s a bark of sharp laughter. “Let’s get you sorted out, Miss Potter. Need to separate you out from the other one.”

“What?” Hallie can see nothing but the brim of the hat, covering her eyes as they dart around.

“Ahh, not aware, I see… Never heard of this sort of thing in one so young, someone must have been meddling.”

There’s an indescribable feeling of someone rooting around inside her head, pulling memories and thoughts and formative feelings this way and that, examining them from each angle like a jeweller checking precious stones for flaws.

“Now that’s better…” That voice again, old and croaky. “Miss Potter alone. Cunning, ambitious, deeply ambitious. You want to prove yourself; you know you’d do frightfully well in Slytherin.”

The image of Draco Malfoy’s arrogant face flickers in Hallie’s mind and she shivers as ice-water creeps up her spine.

“Not Slytherin, not Slytherin! Anything but Slytherin please.”

“But you could be so great, the greatest, perhaps, in a very long time. Merlin himself was Slytherin, you know.”

“Not Slytherin!” Hallie bites out, and the voice sighs dramatically.

“Very well. Truthfully, you could do well anywhere, but what do we want to encourage I wonder… well, given the family line, and your other half, I suppose it’ll have to be GRYFFINDOR!”

With her house name declared for the hall to hear, Hallie’s eyes are flooded with light as the hat is removed from her head, and she makes for the Gryffindor house table with a smile on her lips.

Hours later, when the dorms have been sorted, when Lavender and Parvati and Hermione have gone to sleep and Hallie is luxuriating in sheets that haven’t been mistreated for years on end, a smaller voice enters her head.

I don’t need to hear the story about the girl-who-lived again Mum, honestly!

Girl-who-lived? Hallie starts and looks around for the source of the voice. Isn’t that what people call me?

The next few thoughts swirling in her head aren’t articulated, not really. A half formed mess of shock and feelings, peppered with words, and the colours of emotions.

What? Who? More confusion, bright ice-water tang of fear seeping into the edges before the jolting spark of momentary euphoria that is recognition. Hallie?

Ginny? That’s who Hallie thinks the voice is, anyway. It’s hard to tell, really. The edges of her mentality are blurring, the voices both distinct and combined.

Yes! Hallie- oh Merlin! More confusion, fear, overwhelming curiosity. How can you- is this real- what- can’t be real. A spiral now, confusion and denial and the sensation of wracking her brain for any memory pertaining to this situation with the unique caveat that it’s not her own mind actively searching for the answer.

Then calm, brief calm, before the voice emerges clearer.

Hallie? Is that really you?

I think so? Hallie attempts to articulate the words within her own mind, conscious of the need to communicate her own thought process -provided she isn’t going crazy like that one person who was on television the other day, the one she’d heard Uncle Vernon judging and describing in such caustic, horrible terms-.

Not crazy, I promise, and not- another odd feeling, that of someone ELSE rooting through her memories for a specific word- not schizofrenic. The word as Hallie sees it changes spelling in her mind’s eye, correcting for Ginny’s grasping the term from her memory with no knowledge of her own on the subject. Schizophrenic.

What’s going on? She thinks, exhaustion catching her as the swift adrenaline spike crashes as soon as it started.

I ‘unno… Ginny’s voice sounds as tired as Hallie feels after her day. Memories flicker across her brain as she drifts to sleep, the mysterious note, the train ride, snack trolley, boats, sorting and meal, being led up to the common room…

I guess I know how you knew Mum’s last name. Is Ginny’s final thought that night.

Miles and miles away from Hallie Potter, far away and across the English border, curled up under blankets in a rickety house, Ginny Weasley drifts to sleep at the same instant.

*~*

Transfiguration is the first time Ginny ends up helping Hallie with her schoolwork, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Mum always says magic is as much about intent as the wand movements or the incantation.

So I have to really intend for the match to become a needle?

I think so.

But how do I do that?

Think really hard?

So Hallie does just that, really concentrating on the match transforming itself into a glittering sewing needle, exactly like the ones Mrs Weasley has at home, in the sewing box Ginny can see out of the corner of her eye.

“Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Potter.” Professor McGonagall declares, a rare smile playing at her stern lips and colouring her stern, refined Morningside accent with a warm undertone. She looks at Ron, and at a somewhat jealous Hermione. “You will see, class, that in addition to carefully perfecting her wand movements and incantation, Miss Potter demonstrated the proper intent with her spellcasting.” She nods decisively, and Hallie blushes bright red under the unfamiliar sensation of praise.

When she’s slow to pack up after class, McGonagall calls her over, handing her the match-turned-needle with a private smile.

“Keep it, Miss Potter. Your father managed the same thing in his first transfiguration lesson, and I allowed him to keep his as well.” She smiles as Hallie lights up at the favourable comparison to her father, that effortlessly charming smile and messy hair taking Minerva back in time almost twenty years.

With a wave of her wand the various pieces of malformed matchwood littered on desks around the room sweep neatly onto her desk and are transfigured en masse back into simple matchsticks. “Now run along, I understand you have flying lessons with Madam Hooch.”

Hallie runs off with a bright smile, long messy hair and school robes flying wildly in her wake, and her transfiguration professor gets into her favourite activity of correcting articles in Transfiguration Weekly while there are no students around.

About forty five minutes later, she looks out of her window with astonishment.

There’s Hallie Potter, speeding towards the window on a broom like she was born to ride it, a glint in the air the only hint of what Minerva will later find out is Neville Longbottom’s remembrall before Hallie spins, executes by feeling alone what is a textbook one handed sloth-grip roll, and snatches the little glass orb out of the air while she’s upside down like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Shocked into silence for the first time in possibly her entire life, Minerva McGonagall watches Hallie toss the glass from hand to hand for a moment, still seated comfortably on her broom like she was born there, before the girl who was supposed to be engaged in her first ever flying lesson races off at top speed on a rickety school broom that hadn’t been updated since before her father and Sirius Black had learned to fly on them.

Decision made, she puts down her paper and hurries down to the courtyard.

“Hallie Potter!” She calls, striding purposefully up to a gaggle of first year students. “Follow me.”

In the back of the soon-to-be-Gryffindor-seeker’s mind, Ginny Weasley is torn between worry and awe.

When Oliver Wood is pulled out of class to meet Hallie, Ginny knows what will happen before the older girl does.

That’s Oliver Wood! He’s the Quidditch team captain! The twins mention him a lot!

What’s Quidditch? Hallie asks, before an understanding of the game Ginny has followed since before she could form permanent memories flows into her brain without conscious thought. That’s so cool.

When Hallie is able to guess unusually quickly what Quidditch terms and tactics mean in her initial off-the-books session with Oliver Wood while he’s meant to be explaining the game, Ginny can’t stop smiling and the emotional bleed-through is infectious.

I know for sure this is real now.. Hallie thinks as Wood packs up.

You know we could have just sent letters to check, if you really wanted? Ginny sounds smug and Hallie grins at the feeling of challenge.

Guess I will just write to you after all!

Oh yeah? They’re both laughing and smiling hundreds of miles apart.

Little do they realise they’ve just set the tone for their entire relationship right there.

*~*

Exciting events come and go. The Troll incident, an aborted duel with Malfoy, an encounter with a huge, terrible three-headed dog on the third floor, and a fair bit of drama in the girls dorm over Lavender’s admission of having a crush on a boy.

Hallie wonders, as her roommates gossip and giggle, if it means anything that she can’t see her life unfolding with a boy at all.

Ginny Weasley, who’s known she wanted to marry a woman since she was old enough to be read bedtime stories about princesses from exotic lands who rewarded the hero -or heroine- of the fairytale with a kiss or marriage, dares to feel the tiniest, barest, most subtle grains of hope. A hope so subtle, she doesn’t even realise it. She enjoys the gossip though, it’s all intrigue and melodrama, so Hallie listens intently anyway, to give the girl nestled up in bed hundreds of miles away the taste of Hogwarts she so craves.

She makes sure to recap it all in their unnecessary letters, too, just because she knows it makes Ginny smile when she reads them back to herself.

Ginny, in turn, learns to take special care not to be distracted when Hallie is in potions.

The lessons have been miserable since the very first, when Hallie was bombarded with questions that, according to Ginny, she couldn’t possibly have been expected to know the answers to.

How DARE he treat you like that! She’d fumed, her emotions a fiery contrast to Hallie’s low spirits as she and Ron had climbed out of the dungeons, dejected.

I’m fine, Gin. Hallie had said. I promise.

Since then, Ginny has been a comforting presence in the back of Hallie’s mind every potions lesson, and Hallie hasn’t had half the points deducted that she might otherwise have had docked for her unfortunately quick wit.

It’s during Hallie’s first actual Quidditch match that both girls realise just how much they love to fly.

Hallie sits on the broom like she was born for the air, even the nerves of her first official match lose their grip on her when she gets up into the sky, hanging above the action. Wood had discussed the game-plan with her extensively, and Ginny had agreed.

“You stay out of the game for now Hallie. We don’t want you getting attacked before you have to be. You’re fast, and in our drills you’re accurate, so we’re going to let the girls on frontline do what they do best, and you’ll just get that snitch or die trying!”

They’d discussed it while sat in the Gryffindor team locker room, and the team’s chasers had readily agreed, let them dodge Syltherin’s sadistic beaters, Hallie could just focus on beating Higgs to the snitch.

When Angelina had offered Hallie a hair-tie before the game, the youngest girl had shaken her head with a smile.

“Thanks, but I like the wind in my hair.”

Alicia Spinnet had ruffled Hallie’s hair fondly before they all flew up.

Beneath her, Angelina scores a breathtakingly skillful goal as she ducks around and between two Slytherin chasers, before she hangs inverted and sling-shots herself over the head of the Snake’s keeper, quaffle going through the ring without even coming close to the rim.

That was an Inverted Heartshift Triple Fake! Ginny yells excitedly in her head and Hallie smiles wide, lazily circling the pitch on the edge of the beaters’ attention, green eyes roving back and forth for the elusive golden ball that was her objective.

A flicker of gold by the Lion’s goalposts, and Hallie dives.

She doesn't have to think to map the path the snitch will take, a fake corkscrew around the latter hoop that she doesn’t even try to follow -it’s movement path would be too restricted otherwise- and then it shoots off.

She’s vaguely aware of Lee Jordan giving an excited running commentary but she’s so close, Higgs was shadowing her, so she has a lead, and she knows from practice that her Nimbus handles like a dream.

Down and around the pitch she pursues the little golden glint, a bludger misses the back of her head by inches, parting her thick trailing hair like a wedge through water, but Hallie doesn’t care.

Slytherin captain Marcus Flint slams into her like he wants to be a bludger when he grows up and Hallie reels, slewing her broom to avoid serious contact and injury with a stand, it’s a foul to interrupt a seeker like that during a chase, especially with such egregious full contact, she knows that because Ginny knows that, and the fiery redhead is already ranting about how that’s a filthy cheater’s move in the back of her mind.

Madam Hooch’s whistle blows and everyone slows to a stop.

“Flint!” The referee yells. “Foul for full contact blocking of a seeker during snitch pursuit! Penalty shot for Gryffindor!”

The snitch has disappeared in the confusion and Hallie huffs in annoyance as she drifts up to hang well above the stadium to watch the penalty.

Katie Bell tosses the quaffle to Alicia Spinnet -she’s their best penalty scorer- and sure enough she puts it away no problem, with Ginny praising her strong throwing technique in the back of Hallie’s head.

“Gryffindor score!” Lee Jordan yells “And we continue play! Gryffindor still in possession.”

Hallie dodges a bludger and climbs another twenty or so feet, resting forearms on her broom as she hunches to scan the ground directly below her.

Then her broom bucks like it’s decided to kill her.

Hallie comes clean off, barely grabbing the shaft as the broom drops away between her legs, leaving her hanging perilously over open space. She drops with a yelp, hardly able to hang on one handed as the only thing keeping her in the air writhes like an angry, anxious snake.

The broom stills momentarily and Hallie manages to BARELY get another hand onto it before it twists in her grip and she hisses in pain at the friction where her fingerless gloves cut away.

Hold on Hallie! Ginny’s voice in the back of her head is desperate, and Hallie’s unfortunate propensity for quick wit at the worst possible times rears its head.

The thought had occurred to me!

The broom stabilises a bit and Hallie hauls herself up, almost swinging her leg up before the Nimbus jerks to the side and she barely keeps the shaft pressed to her chest, legs swinging wildly.

She waits a few seconds, expecting another fit of erratic movement, but when none comes, she swings her leg over the shaft again, finally secure. With a quick 180 she scans the pitch, noting some commotion in the professor’s stand, but nothing to indicate what happened as play continues uninterrupted around her.

Hallie looks down as she resettles on her broom, thick hair falling either side of her eyes, before there’s a flicker of gold underneath her and she wastes no time in hanging herself inverted and then going completely vertical.

There’s a desperate gasp as a red and black blur whips by the stands at terminal velocity, absolutely laser focussed on the little gold ball.

Hallie’s eyes flicker to the last place she saw the Slytherin beaters as her dive evens out at the last possible second, and sure enough they’re both still in a classic even spread behind their own goal posts.

You’re amazing. Ginny’s voice in the back of her head, and Hallie grins, flattening herself to the broom and opening the taps completely. The world turns into a blur, she knows instinctively that Higgs must be somewhere behind her, and she starts to roll, then reaches out a hand.

The snitch executes a hairpin turn right into her hand as Hallie throws herself forwards. Her broom hits the grass and she does too, rolling to a stop with the taste of metal on her lips and on her tongue.

The snitch is pressed against her lips and she stands somewhat shakily, holding it high as time is called.

Warm copper floods the back of her mouth and she realises she must have bitten her tongue in the fall, but she’s never felt more alive than she does right now.

Angelina runs up to her and hugs her, and Hallie barely has time to blush about being buried in the third year’s chest before Fred and George lift the youngest seeker in a century up onto their shoulders to display her to the stadium, snitch held high.

“GRYFFINDOR WINS!” Lee Jordan yells at the top of his lungs. “ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TO SIXTY!”

In the stands, Minerva McGonagall’s competitive smile displays just a hint of satisfied teeth.

*~*

When Christmas rolls around, Ginny is the first person ever to actually wish Hallie Potter happy holidays.

Merry Christmas, Hallie!

Merry Christmas, Gin… she replies, drowsily. From the sensations in the back of her mind, Hallie feels the excitement bursting within Ginny, and it makes her smile so wide it hurts. I’ve never looked forward to a Christmas before!

Well you’ve never had me before! Ginny’s mental voice is drenched with affection and Hallie feels a surge of an emotion she has no hope of identifying.

Her heart feels full, a light blush dusts her cheeks and Hallie Potter is struck with an errant thought that hits like the scar on her forehead.

Talking with Ginny Weasley feels like flying.

There should be a kind of a lumpy package. Ginny directs, and Hallie raises an eyebrow.

What are you talking about Gin? I won’t get presents.

Then- wait, why are you so excited? Ginny’s train of thought is pulled away from the presents she knows Hallie has gotten, distracted.

I’m just happy I get to be away from the Dursleys. Hallie shrugs, not that anyone can see her, Ginny is in Romania with her parents and second eldest brother, and the curtains around Hallie’s four-poster bed are drawn closed.

I hope you never have to go back to them! Ginny declares fiercely, and Hallie dares to hope, just for a second, that that might be the case. She doesn’t get the chance to be distracted for long though, as Ginny drags their combined focus back to potential presents. Come on Hallie, see what you got.

There’s a fuzzy image of a jumper dancing in the back of their shared headspace, and Hallie slips her feet out of the covers to pad over the otherwise empty dorm room to the small tree and pile of packages in the corner.

Lumpy one first! Ginny cheers mentally again, and Hallie laughs aloud in her empty dorm.

“I’m getting there Gin, I promise.” She says aloud, carefully using her little finger to slit open the paper at the fold.

Well get there faster! Is the response in her head.

“You’re so impatient.” She giggles aloud, pulling the paper away. “You really wanted me to have this hu-.”

Hallie’s breath stops short. The jumper in her hands is reassuringly thick, knitted from emerald green wool. It’s obviously handmade, but of superlative quality nonetheless. There’s a bright letter “H” in the middle, picked out in a light tan wool and with sharp edges indicative both of years of practice and of time and care taken in its construction.

Tears prickle at Hallie’s eyes and she cradles the warm, comforting object to her chest.

There’s fudge too. Ginny sounds emotional in her head and Hallie hunches over so that her tears won’t drop into the warm wool clenched to her chest like a lifeline.

I- Gin- I- She can’t form words in her head, sniffling in happiness. I’m sorry Gin, I-

It’s okay Ginny tells her. I know. Waves of understanding feelings lap at the edges of their link like waves on a shoreline and Hallie sniffles as happy tears drip down her nose.

I have a place I belong.

You have people who want you.

Hurriedly, Hallie shucks her pyjama top and pulls on her new jumper. It’s a bit big, the sleeves come down to her knuckles, and the hem hangs to the top of her thighs. Ginny starts to apologise -she and Ron had given her Mum the measurements afterall- and Hallie shushes her.

Gin, shhh, it’s okay.

Don’t shush me, Potter!

Shush, I love it how it is, I like it big, it’s cosy.

Make sure you put that in your letter, I can let Mum know, you’ll get them oversized every year.

That alone is enough to set Hallie off again.

You mean I might get one of these every year!?

Of course silly. Ginny’s reply is warm as a bright summer’s day and sure as solid bedrock. This is just the start.

She unwraps a load of sweets, but nothing else can possibly touch the experience of having something made purposely for her out of love. Until she gets to the last couple of packages. The first is a flute, it’s been hand-whittled from wood, and when Hallie gives it an experimental try it hoots like an owl. The tag says it’s from Hagrid and Hallie feels another burst of affection for the large man.

The final package takes her breath away when she opens it up.

Something impossibly light and glittery flows around her thin fingers and pools on the floor like a waterfall of liquid silver.

Oh Merlin! Ginny sounds beyond shocked. That’s an invisibility cloak! Read the tag Hallie!

Picking up the delicate fabric she turns over the small tag, finding a message.

“Your father left this in my possession before he died.” She reads off. “It is time it was returned to you, use it well. A very Merry Christmas to you.”

My Dad. She thinks longingly. This was my Dad’s, Gin.

Try it on. Ginny whispers, and Hallie is amazed for the hundredth time that day as her body disappears.

She has Christmas dinner with the Weasley brothers who are still at Hogwarts and she’s never felt more like she belongs.

*~*

Hallie’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps as she puts her back to the door of the disused classroom.

That was close. Ginny sounds like she’s enjoying Hallie’s discomfort at nearly being caught immensely, and Hallie huffs in annoyance.

Don’t sound so smug, I don’t have to lend you my invisibility cloak when you get here next year. Then we’ll see how you feel about getting caught!

Empty threat Potter. Ginny laughs, before she notices Hallie is distracted. What?

This… Hallie walks softly over to the gold-framed mirror, running a finger over the gold moulding that rims it.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. She stumbles over the strange words even in her own head. Wonder what that means?

No idea. Ginny sounds curious and Hallie steps back to take in the whole object before she squeaks in shock and covers her mouth.

Gin-.

There’s Ginny in the mirror, standing next to Hallie herself. They look older, Ginny swamped in a thick, oversized jumper with a bright green letter “H” on the front and grinning ear to ear. They have their arms wrapped around each other and in Ginny’s free hand there’s a broom, sleek and professional, decorated with stripes on the shaft that denote a truly astounding number of championships.

The most astonishing part, however, is the tapestry of movement behind the two of them.

I think that’s your parents. Ginny sounds in awe, gazing as she always is, not through Hallie’s eyes, but through their shared memories as they’re created.

And yours. Hallie says, as James and Lily Potter smile and move to the side, Molly and Arthur Weasley walk into the frame, laying their hands on older-Ginny’s shoulders.

“Mum?” Hallie chokes out as the scene in the mirror shifts back and forth, the Weasleys move out of frame and in come the Potters again, hands resting on older-Hallie’s shoulders.

Green eyes meet green eyes, and Hallie J. Potter looks her mother in the eye for the first time.

Somewhere in the back of their shared mind, some realisation happens when one of them notices the writing on the broom older-Ginny is holding -whether it’s Ginny or Hallie that notices, neither knows and it doesn’t matter- but Ginny is the one to vocalise it.

Hallie. She says in their shared headspace, softly.

Yeah? The slightly older girl doesn’t seem to really be listening, reaching out to touch the mirror’s surface.

What’s that inscription again?

Confused and distracted, Hallie lifts her gaze away from her mother’s eyes and onto the writing again.

“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi” She reads aloud, slowly.

It’s mirrored. Ginny articulates their shared realisation and that’s all Hallie needs to realise what she needs to do.

“Ishow no tyo urfac-” she gets halfway and realises where she’s going wrong. “I show not your face but your -what’s this bit, oh- heart’s desire.”

It shows us what we want to see. Ginny says.

There’s no sound in the empty classroom except Hallie’s gentle breath.

“I’ll come back.” She whispers softly to her parents, before she walks out of the room.

You should bring Ron. Ginny says. I wonder what he sees?

Hallie does, in fact, bring Ron. He sees himself winning racks of awards, for Quidditch and for Gryffindor in general.

The third time she returns alone, Ginny is asleep, having had quite a tiring day helping Mrs. Weasley and looking around a dragon reserve with Charlie.

Hallie is alone in her own head and it’s a strange sensation.

She knows she’s not actually alone, not really, she can still feel Ginny there, warm and asleep and her mind flickering through dreams like an old film projector that Hallie can’t parse and make no sense to her waking mind.

She sits in front of the mirror, her father’s invisibility cloak carefully folded in her lap, just drinking in the sight.

“Back again, Hallie?”

The dark-haired girl turns with a start, and there’s Professor Dumbledore, sitting on one of the desks by the door.

“I’m s-sorry. Sir.” The child raised by the Dursleys instinctually fears the deep consequences of the multi-layer transgression she knows she’s committing. Forbidden floor of the castle, forbidden room, sneaking out after curfew. She braces for a slap, but Dumbledore merely sits next to her gently.

“It’s strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you.” Dumbledore says gently, a wry smile playing at his lips under his beard. “You, like so many more before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“Mirror of Desire?” Hallie translates, and Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle. “Take a point for Gryffindor, Miss Potter. Very sharp of you.”

The room is so still and hushed that Hallie fancies she can actually hear the ruby dropping into the hourglass in the entrance hall.

“It shows me my family.” She whispers.

“And the youngest Mr Weasley saw himself winning accolades galore.” Dumbldore’s eyes twinkle again, but then the jovial nature subsides. “Men have been driven mad before this mirror, Miss Potter.”

“Mad?” Hallie asks, cocking her head.

“Men and women have wasted away before this mirror.” Dumbledore’s voice seems to carry a magnitude of great age with it. “It does not show the truth, Miss Potter. Nor the future. No less than your deepest, most desperate desire of the heart.” He takes a slow, measured breath. “Men have wasted away luxuriating in the fantasy they are given, and others have been driven mad by the pursuit of a future that isn’t possible no matter how hard they try.” The Headmaster sighs softly. “Some run away, driven by fear of what they see, or regret.”

Hallie nods slowly.

“I should avoid coming back, shouldn’t I Professor?”

“I think that would be best.” Dumbledore says gently. “Your parents live on in you, Miss Hallie Potter. In your father’s hair, your mother’s eyes.” He sets a gentle hand on her shoulder. “With your normal mirror, you can see them whenever you brush your hair, do your make-up.” He laughs, softly. “Not that I know much about that, of course.”

“Of course.” Hallie laughs along, allowing Dumbledore to shepherd her gently away from the mirror.

“It will be moved to a new home tomorrow.” The Headmaster says. “Please do not go looking for it, but if you ever should run across it, I trust you will be well-prepared.”

Hallie nods, already swirling her father’s invisibility cloak around her shoulders.

“Professor?” She asks, as they stand together, back to the mirror. “May I ask what you see in the mirror?”

Dumbledore shakes his head, softly.

“I will reserve my right to not answer that, Miss Potter.” He pauses for a moment. “But I will confess this. Of the three options I gave you, I am one who runs away.”

Hallie looks up at him with wide eyes.

“What could scare you, Professor?”

“You don’t live to my age without a healthy fear for certain things, Hallie.” Dumbledore smiles, but it seems not to quite reach his eyes. “But I admit, it is not fear that makes me turn my back on the vision I see.”

With that, he leaves the room, and Hallie makes her way back to Gryffindor tower in a thought-filled daze.

*~*

Even having just found out about Nicholas Flamel and the incredible artefact the terrifying dog must be guarding, the main thing weighing on Hallie and Ginny’s minds is the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

Snape is refereeing! Hallie huffs, while she tunes up her broom under an eager Ginny’s careful mental instructions. He’s going to try and sabotage the match, I just know it!

Greasy git. Ginny agrees, sounding for all the world like her brother. But you’ll outfly his cheating anyway Hallie, you’re ace on a broom!

D’ you think so? Hallie trims a twig carefully. Ginny nods, even though Hallie can’t see it.

I know so! She declares confidently.

I would be lost without you. Hallie declares as she finishes trimming.

I’m sure you’d be fine. Ginny almost feels like she’s blushing and her embarrassment laps at their emotional link like warm waves on a tropical shoreline.

Maybe I would. Hallie allows. But I wouldn’t fly as stylishly without your help.

Damn straight Potter. Ginny nods decisively and Hallie laughs as she moves on to polishing her broom.

“No hair-tie again Hallie?” Angelina offers her one as they all strap on their Quidditch pads and Hallie shakes her head.

“I like the wind in my hair!” She protests, pouting when Alicia’s as-yet-ungloved hand lands on her head and ruffles her already messy hair fondly.

“You’re adorable, Hallie.” She slides an extra couple of the muggle elastics onto her wrist. “I’ll keep some on me though, if the weather turns bad, I promise you’ll want one.”

“Hopefully the game doesn’t go long enough for the weather to turn at all.” Katie stretches out her arms and offers Angelina a fist-bump. “Nice quick catch today please Hallie, let’s not give the ref enough time to mess us up.”

“Can’t believe Snape volunteered for that.” Alicia spits the sentence like it’s venom, flexing her fingers inside her gloves before she gives Katie a high five.

Katie smirks and Hallie feels something in her chest do flips at the sight. In the back of her mind, Ginny notes a similar feeling.

“Let’s play it so clean he can’t reprimand us at all!” She winks at Hallie. “Seriously though, nice quick catch today, please?”

“I’ll do my best.” Hallie ducks another attempt to ruffle her hair and sticks out her tongue before she’s shepherded out of the room.

Once they’re up in the air and the quaffle is released, all of Hallie’s worries seem to melt away because she’s flying.

She circles high and tight, searching for that elusive sliver of gold as the Gryffindor chasers pull out all the stops.

Not even three minutes in, Snape awards the badgers a penalty because George hits a bludger at him directly, and Hallie rolls her eyes as she watches the game from on high, eyes still alert for that little speck of gold.

Alas, her luck isn’t the best, and soon enough the badgers get another free penalty. Oliver saves this one, but Hallie still feels the pressure mounting on her shoulders. The quaffle is just being thrown back into play when she sees it, hovering below Snape’s left knee.

No thought required, Hallie drops her broom into a vertical dive and savours the wind streaming past her face.

She shoots past Snape so quickly that even his reaction of tipping in surprise is delayed, and by the time he’s opening his mouth to award the badgers yet another penalty for lax safety on part of the Gryffindor seeker, Hallie is hoisting the snitch overhead with a grin a mile wide.

That was amazing! Ginny says in their mind. I’ve never seen anyone pull off a catch mid-dive like that!

When I’m good, I’m good. Hallie teases. But when I have a Weasley, I’m better!

Well you’ll always have a Weasley! Ginny declares as Gryffindors swarm the pitch to lift Hallie onto their shoulders. That comment makes them both feel like they’ve just won the world cup, but there’s no time to figure out why.

*~*

In spite of the Norbert incident and subsequent soul-chilling detention in the Forbidden Forest, Hallie somehow manages to perform well enough on her Transfiguration exam to earn McGonagall’s favour.

“Well done Miss Potter!” Her stern head of house declares as her student successfully turns a mouse into an ornate snuff-box. To Hallie, the box still looks a little fuzzy, and she worries it might dock her some points if it still possesses some fur, but Professor McGonagall gives her high marks and sends her on her way.

She tries to relax by the lake with Ron and Hermione, but to no avail. Hallie can't get comfortable.

“I feel like this is a warning.” She says, rubbing her scar and fidgeting with the grass. “LIke something bad is going to happen soon.”

“Nothing will happen so long as Dumbledore is here.” Hermione reassures her, sounding a lot more confident than Hallie thinks she has any right to feel.

*~*

“FOOL! Get the Stone!”

Hallie stands her ground and tries to dodge out of the way, but Quirrel grabs her by the scruff of her neck.

“Let me GO!” She yells, kicking out in desperate panic as Ginny in her mind encourages her to fight.

“Give me the stone, Hallie Potter.” Voldemort’s snake-skin smooth voice rasps in her ear and Hallie thinks she might be sick just at the sound of it. Bile rises in her gorge and then she realises it’s not the voice, it’s the smell of burning flesh.

Quirrel drops her and staggers like he’s been gutshot by a bludger.

“THE STONE, YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!” Voldemort yells, and then the Defense Professor lunges at her.

Hallie tries to duck, but Quirrel’s hands find purchase, and so Hallie responds by jamming her hands into his face and throat as violently as she can.

The puppet of the dark lord screams in pain and Hallie’s scar feels like it wants to rip her head open, but she holds on, even as darkness encroaches on her vision and Ginny screams in the back of her mind.

Hallie! Please Hallie fight him! Hallie!?! HALLIE!

The girl-who-lived collapses on the stone floor in a pile of ash while the Dark Lord’s revenant screeches as its spiritual form is sent screaming back out into the world.

Hallie Potter wakes up with easily the worst headache she’s ever had in her entire life.

Ginny? She questions, eyes cracking open before slamming shut as light makes her head ten times worse.

Warmth and concern and relief flood their bond instantly.

Hallie? Are you ok? Please tell me you’re okay!

I think so. Hallie digs an elbow into the soft mattress to sit up and then does a double take. Wait, mattress? I must have been rescued!

Thank Merlin for that! Ginny does a little cheer in their mind and Hallie is overcome with the urge to hug the other girl.

I still feel quite tired. Hallie yawns and screws her eyes shut.

Go to sleep. Ginny tries to project as much comfort as she can. I’m here, and I’m not going to go anywhere.

Hallie doesn’t know why, but she finds that comforting.

*~*

“Mum look! It’s Hallie Potter!” Ginny points enthusiastically and Hallie rolls her eyes as she steps through the barrier, Ron and Hermione at her side.

Laying it on a little thick there, Gin.

Maybe I really am just that happy to see you in person again! The smaller girl launches herself at Hallie and they hug without thinking about it.

Feels good to see you again.

There’s a gruff cough, and Hallie reluctantly drags her nose out of Ginny’s hair to see her Uncle Vernon glaring at her.

“Hurry up girl, we don’t have all damn day.”

“Guess that’s my cue.” Hallie grimaces and takes as long as possible before she lets go of Ginny’s hand.

See you soon Gin. I hope.

I won’t leave Mum alone until you’re staying with us. Ginny promises. Now go on, and remember, they don’t know you can’t use magic outside of school.

That… is an excellent point, Miss Weasley. Ginny gives her a beatific smile

Been known to happen. There’s a pause as Hallie and her things are dragged away, and then Ginny’s voice in her head again. I’m always here to keep you company Hallie, I promise.

I like that. Hallie replies.

Chapter Text

“You’ve forgotten the magic word.” Hallie huffs as her whale of a cousin turns to her, his greedy hands already reaching for the frying pan full of bacon.

Immediately, said cousin shrieks in fear, falling from his chair with an almighty crash as Hallie’s Aunt goes pale and her Uncle turns a shade of purple so alarming that she genuinely wonders if he’s been hexed.

“I meant please!” Hallie is quick to defend her somewhat poor choice of words. “I only meant please Uncle Vernon-”

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SAYING THE M WORD IN MY HOUSEHOLD!” Her Uncle yells, spittle flying all over the table.

“Okay!” Hallie placates, flinching as her aunt smacks at her raised hands with a tea-towel.

“How dare you use that word in our house!” She snaps, thin nose contorted in an astonishing display of anger.

Hallie’s fear spikes in anticipation and she grits her teeth as a metal spoon is smacked into her temple by her aunt, while her uncle heaves her cousin to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Petunia.” She simpers, hissing in pain as the metal impacts the same spot again.

Hallie! Ginny’s voice in the back of her mind makes her pain subside just a bit as warm comfort leaks through their connection.

I’m fine Gin.

No you’re not! Righteous anger floods their link and Hallie grits her teeth even as she shrinks away from more of her Aunt’s retribution. How dare they be treating you like this!

Gin, it’s okay, it’s just until summer ends.

But it’s not right! Ginny protests as Hallie eats her toast slowly.

I’ll live. Hallie hunches low, tonelessly repeating the same thing as her Uncle prattles on about his planned dinner tonight.

“I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise at all and pretending I’m not there; Uncle Vernon.”

“Exactly girl.” Her Uncle sneers at her. “Now I’ll be off, I must collect dinner jackets for myself and Dudley. You just stay out of your Aunt’s way while she’s cleaning! I don’t want your freakishness to ruin her spotless work!”

Given what I’ve seen in your memories, her cleaning is only spotless by definition of there being no spot that’s truly clean. Ginny snarks and Hallie bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

When her Uncle leaves, Hallie disinterestedly shuffles through the back door and into the garden to work on her Aunt’s prized lawn.

“Happy Birthday to me.” She mumbles under her breath as she trims the grass at the edges of the flowerbeds with an old pair of scissors.

I said Happy Birthday already. Ginny remarks, not unkindly, and it’s enough to make Hallie smile.

I don’t know what I’d do without you to talk to Gin. I’d be going nuts.

I don’t know why Ron and Hermione aren’t sending you any letters. Ginny sounds furious at her brother. He insists he is, but I think he’s just lying so Mum won’t complain he’s being rude.

Hallie considers that as she trims away, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and wishing for the first time in her life that she had a hair-tie.

Maybe he isn’t lying, maybe it’s not getting here, maybe the owls aren’t allowed to deliver to heavily muggle-populated places unless it’s official.

Maybe. Ginny gives the mental equivalent of a disbelieving hum.

Any further thoughts on the state of Haliie’s mail are sent packing when her cousin happily steps on the scissors she’s using.

“I know what day it is!” He crows triumphantly, and Hallie sighs.

“You’ve learned the days of the week, well done Dudley.”

“It’s your birthday. ” Dudley crows, either ignoring the jibe or simply not understanding it. “And you haven’t had a single card, don’t you have any friends even at your freak school?”

“Best not to let your Mum hear you asking about my school.” Hallie mutters, pulling her scissors out from under Dudley’s heavy foot and wiping them clean of mud. “She’d not be happy.”

Aunt Petunia’s angry voice rings out of the kitchen window before Dudley can formulate a response to that one.

“Girl! Quit tormenting Dudley and trim that grass!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Hallie sighs, apparently not quietly enough, before carrying on with her assigned task.

“DON’T GIVE ME LIP, UNGRATEFUL BRAT!” Her Aunt sounds very angry and Hallie cringes. She has no doubt she’ll be worked to the bone today.

When her Uncle bodily throws her into her sparse bedroom and slams the door in anger so hard that the frame comes slightly loose, Hallie thinks back to her earlier thought and wonders how she didn’t consider something as bad as this happening, as Ginny in the back of her mind calls her muggle relatives words that would absolutely cause Mrs. Weasley to wash the redhead’s mouth out with soap if she uttered them aloud.

*~*

When three Weasley brothers show up to rescue her, the girl Hallie shares her head with is full to bursting with pride for her family.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!” Mrs. Weasley looks angry beyond anything Hallie ever seen of her in Ginny’s memories. “EMPTY BEDS! NOT EVEN A NOTE!” She rails at the four of them for what seems to be hours, until she’s shouted herself hoarse, and then turns her gaze on Hallie.

“I’m so happy to see you, Hallie dear.” She beckons forward the young girl who has backed away like a scared cat. “Come in, I think Ginny will love to see you, she’s been talking about you all summer!”

“I- I don’t want to c-cause a-an imposition, M-Mrs. W-Weasley.” Hallie’s rare stutter rears its head as the fear of her anger pervades the surroundings, and the kind-hearted lady smiles gently.

“No imposition, Hallie. As much as my boys absolutely have reason to be scared.” She turns a sharp gaze on the three Weasley brothers, all of whom flinch. “I can’t argue with what I’ve been told of how those dreadful muggles treat you.” Ron, Fred, and George seem to relax a little before Mrs. Weasley’s terrifying gaze turns on them again. “Not that it excuses their methods!” She takes a deep breath. “Now come inside, all of you, once your father gets home we’ll discuss an appropriate punishment.”

That said, Hallie follows the Weasley clan into the house, and is immediately leapt at by an excitable red-headed girl.

“Hallie!”

“Hey Ginny.” Hallie laughs and gladly catches her… friend? She ponders that term in their shared mind as Ginny winces at the state of her clothes and just how scrawny she looks.

Scrawny, in Ginny Weasley’s opinion, is not a word that should ever be applied to a Quidditch player.

Just over Ginny’s head, she can see Mrs. Weasley smiling fondly, before her attention turns to a sheepish looking Fred as he whispers something too low for her ears to hear.

MIssed you. Ginny doesn’t seem willing to let her go quite yet and Hallie is in no hurry to give up the embrace either. When the expression of exasperation on Mrs. Weasley’s face gives way to thunderous anger and the words “-starving her?” are mouthed quietly, to which Fred and George both nod, a call reaches them, still hugging in the entry-way.

“Come on into the kitchen, dears, have some breakfast!”

Ginny drags her into the kitchen by the hand while she beams a smile and Hallie feels at home.

After a morning of de-gnoming the garden and meeting Arthur Weasley shortly before Mrs. Weasley lays into him about the car, Ginny drags Hallie up to her room grinning ear to ear.

“Come on! Mum will want to put you in Bill’s old room or something eventually, but it’ll take a couple of nights to clean that up!”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble there.” Hallie can’t hold back her smile at the spill-over of Ginny’s enthusiasm, but her nervousness betrays her.

“Don’t worry about it!” Ginny declares. “Mum loves you already, who couldn’t?”

The way she says it is so carefree, so off the cuff and sure that Hallie is taken aback.

You really want me here don’t you? She thinks, smiling to herself.

Of course I do! Ginny pulls her inside a room decorated warmly, walls covered in posters for the Holyhead Harpies.

I think you like Quidditch more than I do! Hallie takes a glance out of the window and grins at the view of the Weasley’s make-shift pitch.

I’ve liked Quidditch forever! Ginny protests. But I do like it more because of you!

Ginny hugs her tightly again, and Hallie just feels right when she’s in the other girl’s arms.

*~*

Hallie! Ginny grabs the dark haired girl by the hand. I swear I’m never letting you go again if you’re going to wander off like that!

It wasn’t intentional! Hallie blushes as she apologises to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for accidentally flooing to Knockturn Alley. I’m not very good with floo travel yet.

“Off to Flourish and Blotts!” Mrs. Weasley declares. “Come on, we've plenty of books to get!”

Flourish and Blotts, as it unfortunately turns out, is a bit of a mess.

“It can’t be Hallie Potter!”

Hallie finds herself being roughly dragged up to the front of the store, next to the apparently famous Gilderoy Lockheart on his pedestal.

“Nice big smile Hallie.” The man whispers through gleaming teeth that Hallie has a brief, irrational urge to punch him in. “Together, the two of us are worth the front page!”

Who’s this prat again? Hallie asks, directing her thoughts at Ginny.

He’s that famous bloke Mum likes, remember? Thoughts of a conversation had over booklists flash through Hallie’s head. He’s super famous, killed a lot of bad creatures and stuff. Everyone seems to think he’s really dreamy.

Doesn’t seem attractive to me. Hallie tries to shimmy her way out of Lockheart’s arm to no avail, tuning back into what the man is saying.

“-Hallie had no idea that she’d be getting the real magical me! I’m happy to announce that I’ll be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!”

As the crowd erupts into applause, Hallie finds herself struggling under the weight of the multiple volumes of books she’s been immediately and ceremoniously presented with. She drops them in Ginny’s cauldron as she staggers away from Lockheart’s self-aggrandising echochamber.

“You have them.” She coughs, rubbing at her nose amidst the overpowering lingering scent of Lockhart's cheap aftershave. “I’ll buy my own-.”

“Bet you loved that, Potter .” The irritating and gleeful sneer of Draco Malfoy meets Hallie when she raises her eyes. “Famous girl-who-lived, can’t even enter a shop without ending up in the papers!”

“Shut up! She didn’t want that at all!” Ginny trains a brown-eyed glare at the Slytherin as he scoffs, as if she’s beneath his notice.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, have you Potter?” Draco scoffs.

That actually sounds nice. Hallie thinks, at the same time as an I wish comes from Ginny.

Both of the girls blush a deep crimson at that.

“Oh it’s you .” Ron’s start of a verbal spat with Malfoy effectively distracts the blond boy from the girls he’s decided to torment.

I wish, Gin?!

That sounds nice does it Potter?!

Around them things escalate, until Mr. Weasley ends up clocking Lucius Malfoy square in the jaw after one too many insults.

Hallie and Ginny are distracted from the maelstrom of thoughts in their shared headspace when Hagrid steps in and separates the two brawling men with ease.

“Enough’s enough, come on gents.”

Lucius Malfot pulls himself from Hagrid’s grip with an uncontained sneer.

“Here, girl .” He drops Ginny’s battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration into her cauldron. “It’s the best your father can give you, afterall.” With that he turns and sweeps out of the shop with as much dignity as he can muster with a black eye and what is probably a cracked jawbone. “Come, Draco.”

Mrs. Weasley looks beside herself with equal parts worry and fury.

“Arthur! What a fine example to set for your children! Getting into a brawl like that!” She draws close to her husband. “And your cheek! Oh Arthur…” She tuts and fusses, now more concerned than angry. “I think that’ll bruise quite horrifically…”

“Molly.” Mr. Weasley shakes his head gently at her as the family leaves the shop. “It’ll be fine, I acted rashly and this is the price.” He takes a quick headcount. “I think we all ought to be getting home-.”

“Dad.” Ginny interrupts, still a little red in the face. “Could Hallie and I go to Madam Malkin’s with Mum first? She said she’d need to stop there.”

A quick glance is shared between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then Mrs. Weasley smiles brightly.

“I think that’s a fine idea, Ginny. Come along you two, let’s get you what you need.” She stops after a second. “You come too, Ron. You need a new robe after that… incident with the twins.”

I didn’t say I needed to get new robes Gin. Hallie thinks as the three of them trail in Mrs. Weasley’s wake.

You do though. Ginny replies. I’ve seen the state of your trunk, you need new skirts. She sighs aloud, looking in the window as they enter the shop. I wish I had a few skirts, but I get trousers as hand-me-downs.

Easily fixable. Hallie replies, and before Ginny can say anything, she’s spoken.

“Mrs. Weasley?”

“Oh, yes dear?” The Weasley matriarch looks at her curiously as she examines a robe.

“I was wondering if Ginny and I could swap?” Hallie smiles. “I like trousers some days, and she said earlier that she likes the uniform skirts too, occasionally, so I could buy a couple less skirts than I needed before, and we could swap, and that way we could all save some money?”

Ginny shoots her a raised eyebrow and some side-eye, but Mrs. Weasley claps her hands.

“I think that’s an excellent suggestion dear.” She smiles warmly and gently pushes the two of them side-by-side. “And you’re about the same length in the leg as well, you haven’t quite hit your growth spurts yet Hallie.”

Ginny winds their fingers together as Mrs. Weasley turns to the witch at the counter, and Hallie can’t get the smile off her face.

You know, that was almost Slytherin of you, Potter.

Oh don't you start.

As they’re leaving the shop, the two girls still hand in hand, Hallie decides that maybe, just maybe, she can push her luck a bit.

“Mrs. Weasley, if it’s not too much, can I get something else?”

“Depends what it is dear.” She smiles, and Hallie puts on her best pleading expression, nicked straight from Ginny’s memories.

“I wondered if I could buy Ron and Ginny their wands for the new year?” She presses on hurriedly when Mrs. Weasley takes a reactionary breath. “It’s just-, Ron would do better in classes, Professor McGonagall mentioned once in a lesson that he would do better with his own wand. And Ginny should have one too, you’ve all done so much for me, it would really mean a lot if I could pay you back. I have the money for it.”

Hallie holds her breath as Ginny squeezes her hand.

Relax, Mum won’t blow up at you. Don’t worry.

But what if I said too much? What if it sounded insulting? I don’t want-. Her thoughts trail off into a jumbled mess of anxiety, and Ginny squeezes her hand again.

Astoundingly, it’s Ron that comes to their rescue, and surprisingly tactfully.

“It’s true Mum.” He says. “I didn’t want to say anything, but Professor McGonagall did say I’d perform better in classes if I had my own wand.” He glances at Hallie, and then back to his mother. “I’ll bet Ginny will get really good grades too, if she has her own.”

What on earth happened to my brother in the last thirty seconds? Ginny sounds astonished.

“Fine.” Mrs. Weasley says, sounding as if she wants to protest but can’t find any effective arguments against it. “But I don’t want you to think that you need to spend your money on us like this all the time Hallie.”

Hallie nods, and twenty minutes later they’re walking out of Olivander’s with brand new wands.

*~*

It takes two days of being back at the Burrow before Hallie worked up the courage to talk to Ginny about what happened in Flourish and Blotts

Hey Gin? She thinks, as they’re both laying down to sleep. The night outside is dark and still, the stars are a hundred thousand little pinpricks of light, scattered across a black canvas.

Yeah?

Do you remember in the bookshop?

As if either of them could forget, the memory scrolls in their shared headspace.

Why did you say that you wished I was your girlfriend?

Because- I-. You’re in my head, Potter. You don’t need to ask that!

But, I didn’t think girls were allowed to like other girls like that?

Hallie’s memories of Uncle Vernon’s hateful remarks at various people on television and in the newspaper flicker in and out of her mind’s eye before they’re interrupted by Ginny’s mental sigh.

Your relatives are horrid, of course it’s normal and allowed. She scoffs. Don’t worry, it’s just stupid Ginny being stupid Ginny. I know I’d never get to date someone like you.

I don’t think you’re stupid. Hallie remarks, gently. And I wouldn’t mind if we did end up like that, I said it sounded nice, remember?

You did. Ginny sounds unconvinced. But aren’t we too young? I know that’s what Mum would say.

Yeah. Hallie agrees, but she still sneaks a hand up from her travel bed on the floor to grasp Ginny’s waiting fingers under the blanket.

We could wait a bit. Ginny says, so softly that it would be a mumble if the intent weren’t clear as still water in Hallie’s head.

Till when? She asks, a lock of her thick hair falls into her eyes as she rolls over.

Bill got his first girlfriend in his third year. Ginny says. So, maybe then?

That sounds good to me. Hallie grins. Your third year?

Yeah.

You’ll get your first kiss on the train. Hallie promises, before she blushes a deep crimson in the dark.

“I can’t wait.” Ginny murmurs aloud, sounding terribly sleepy.

“Me either.” Hallie agrees, resting her head on the pillows and allowing sleep to take her, although her hand doesn’t leave Ginny's; their fingers laced together under the blankets.

In Ginny’s trunk, the diary she threw in without thinking starts to make its plot, carefully.

*~*

Catching the train is almost very perilous. After rushing back to the Burrow no less than three times, Hallie and Ron managed to be shut out of the barrier, and are only saved by Ginny’s ability to alert her mother. Molly had managed to side-along them both into the platform with minutes to spare, which in Hallie's estimation was a much more pleasant experience than the floo powder.

Ginny had found Hermione, who had in her usual way already found and claimed them a compartment, and once the train has pulled away and they’ve stopped waving, Ron pulls out his chess set, Hermione tackles him on the board with a gleam in her eye, and Hallie opens up her second year Transfiguration textbook; but finds she can’t really concentrate due to Ginny’s worry.

Gin? She asks, gently, still staring at her book. You’re going to be great, you know that?

Am I? Next to Hallie, Ginny’s hands twist together in worry under the table. What if I’m not powerful enough? What if I can’t cast basic spells, what if I’m not even sorted, what i-.

You don’t need to worry about any of that. Hallie knocks their feet together under the table affectionately. You wouldn’t have gotten your Hogwarts letter if you weren’t capable of being a good witch, and of course you’ll be sorted. I was.

And you had to argue with the hat for almost five minutes! Ginny protests.

Hallie takes her hand under the table and feels the tension in Ginny’s mind relax just a hair.

You’ll do great, Gin. I’m in your head too, and I would gladly sort you into Gryffindor!

When Ginny laughs out of nowhere, Ron and Hermione give them both odd looks, but that passes quickly enough.

I’ll save you a seat at the table. Hallie promises as she, Ron and Hermione make for the carriages.

What if I don’t get into Gryffindor? It’s starting to spit with rain and Ginny shivers.

You will, I’m sure of it. Hallie tries her best to communicate her surety. How could a girl courageous enough to keep six older brothers in line be anything other than Gryffindor?

The actual sorting is an intriguing experience at the least.

“Ahh, I wondered when I would be seeing you again…”

“What?” Ginny asks, her worry spiking.

“Powerful, courageous, cunning, loyal, it’s unmistakable. Hello again, Miss Potter.”

“I’m Ginny.” The redhead replies, confused.

“Yes I’m trying to separate you out…” A hum in that old, throaty voice. “More difficult than last time, must be how much longer this bond has had to cement… Oh what the hell, it’s not like I can put you anywhere else anyway, it’ll be GRYFFINDOR!”

With her house announced for the hall to hear, Ginny hops down from the stool, runs down the table, and takes a seat between Hallie and Percy.

“I knew you’d manage it.” Percy smiles at her, and Ginny sees the brother behind the pompous prefect mask for a second. “Never a doubt in my mind.”

Did you say something to him? She asks Hallie as the rest of the house refocuses on the sorting.

Nothing. Hallie’s mental voice is tinged with a bright grin. I know he’s a bit of a prat, but he is your brother Gin. There’s something wistful in that, and Ginny takes Hallie’s hand under the table as a stray thought, barely cognizant of being put into words, filters through their shared minds.

I wish I had a family to look out for me like that.

Hallie Potter dreams of the MIrror of Erised that night. Ginny Weasley wakes up with tears in her eyes.

Professor Lockheart decides to give her a lecture on fame outside of her herbology lesson that has Ginny’s blood starting to boil in her first year charms class.

“Hallie, Hallie, Hallie,” he says, trying to place a hand on her shoulder which she avoids as deftly as possible, “you need to be a bit more receptive to the opportunities I’m giving you! Spurning the front-page like you did simply isn’t the right move! Now that we’re both here at Hogwarts…” Hallie tunes him out as he prattles on, focussing on Ginny as she sends her feather spearing into the ceiling point-first, to Professor Flitwick’s astonishment.

Don’t destroy the castle too quickly Gin, we haven’t even had the first Quidditch game yet.

Oh you think you’re funny do you? Ginny fires back. Little Miss Famous Bloody Potter.

Hallie actually flinches at that, not that her self-absorbed lecturer on fame notices, and Ginny immediately radiates guilt.

I’m sorry. I was so angry at what he was saying to you.

It’s okay. Hallie tries to put up a front as she steps away from Lockheart and into Herbology. Not that it works when Ginny is in her head. We’ll talk about it later, okay?

Okay.

They don’t talk about it later, and Ginny ends up fishing the diary out of her trunk while Hallie is distracted by some homework.

Dear Diary,

I feel really terrible, I snapped at my friend Hallie today, I said something horrible and I shouldn’t have.

She waits a moment, trying to consider what to write, and is shocked when the ink disappears and the diary writes back to her.

I’m sorry to hear that. My name is Tom, maybe I can help you feel better?

Hallie, absorbed in her Transfiguration homework, doesn’t notice the miniscule sensation of someone very very carefully poking into the mind she shares a direct link to.

Much, much later that night, once they’re both in bed, it’s Hallie that starts the conversation.

Gin?

Y-yeah? There’s a swell of hope, before it’s swallowed by an ocean of guilt.

It really is okay. Hallie smiles against her blankets and imagines giving Ginny a warm hug. I know you were just frustrated.

It’s still not right. Ginny argues. I should know better than to say something like that. I could feel that you were only teasing, but I hit you where I knew for a fact it would hurt, and I-. More guilt swallows her words and their conversation becomes less conducted in a normal manner and just a morass of feelings and half sentences.

Gin. Hallie interrupts her spiral of self-loathing after a few moments. I forgive you, I promise. And I’m sorry too.

Why would you be sorry?

Teasing doesn’t help when you’re nervous. There’s a flash of indignation, and Hallie imagines that warm hug again. I know you’re still nervous about classes. You don’t need to hide it from me. I'll always understand you.

Neither of them notice that an insidious little hook of mind magic they wouldn't be able to name is shoved unceremoniously out of their link as they come back into harmony.

*~*

One morning, Hallie finds herself shaken awake at the earliest hour ever by a very tired and irritated looking Angelina Johnson.

“Whasshappen?” She grumbles, squinting as she tries to focus on her teammate.

“Oliver Bloody Wood.” Angelina grunts, before she gives a jaw-cracking yawn and grimaces at the pop sound. “Has decided that it’s time for Quidditch practice.” She grabs Hallie’s glasses from the nightstand and places them onto the second year’s face.

Hallie lets out a noise like an exceptionally depressed zombie as she flops dramatically back into her pillows and Angelina laughs morbidly.

“My thoughts exactly Potter. My thoughts exactly.” The fourth year girl yawns and cracks her back while rolling her shoulders. “Still, if I’ve got to be awake at this god-awful hour, so do you.”

“What time is it?” Hallie adjusts her glasses and looks inwards at her bond, Ginny still fast asleep on the other end.

“About twenty minutes before dawn.” Angelina ruffles Hallie’s already messy hair fondly. “Come on Potter, Merlin knows what the bloody lunatic will do if we keep him waiting.”

Once Hallie has fetched her Quidditch robes from her trunk and struggled into them, she traipses down the stairs, still about ten percent awake, and she and Angelina join Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet as the Gryffindor team’s four girls make their way to the pitch.

Oliver is already in the changing room with Fred and George, each looking about half as awake as Hallie feels.

“There you girls are!” He declares. “What kept you?”

“It’s a little early.” Hallie mumbles as she slumps onto a bench.

“Nonsense!” Oliver declares, apparently oblivious to the dark, murderous looks being given to him by all of his chasers. “Now! I spent all summer coming up with a new regime which should hopefully help us to keep that cup in our hands!”

Once the lecture begins in earnest, Hallie starts to doze on Alicia’s shoulder.

“Any questions!” Oliver’s loud exclamation jars her to wakefulness and she sits up sharply.

Hallie?

Sorry Gin, did I wake you up?

You? No. Oliver? Yes. Ginny sounds legitimately concerned. You know you’ve missed breakfast right?

Hallie gives the mental equivalent of a despondent sigh and Ginny imagines hugging her warmly.

Don’t worry, I’m bringing some toast down to the pitch for you and the others.

I think I love you. Hallie dead-pans, and Ginny’s emotions swirl into a rich mix of embarrassment.

Don’t say things like that!

Not until your third year?

Hallie!

After ten more minutes of talking, Oliver packs away his strategy boards and Hallie wastes no time in leaping onto her broom and climbing high above the stadium so she can pretend to spot Ginny coming.

Sure enough, there’s a small figure walking towards the pitch, a platter in her hands. Hallie sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles.

“Breakfast!”

Six heads turn towards the redheaded first year climbing into the stands with a plate of toast and the entire team, including Oliver, fly down to meet her.

“You are our favourite sibling.” Fred and George sound completely and utterly honest as they wolf down two slices each, and Ginny smiles.

“I heard Angelina waking up Hallie, so I figured you probably hadn’t eaten.”

“Sorry about that.” Angelina takes a slice and grins. “You like Quidditch? Pretty sure almost every Weasley has been on the team.”

“Everyone except Bill and Percy.” Ginny nods. “I want to play, if I can get good enough.”

Oliver nods decisively.

“Best start training Weasley, after Hallie’s last year, I want reserves in every position.” He looks at Ginny seriously. “What position do you want to play?”

“Chaser.” Hallie answers for Ginny without thinking as the other girl has her mouth full, and everyone looks at her. “Sorry.”

“S’aright.” Ginny swallows and beams widely. “I do want to play Chaser.”

There’s an approving look on Katie Bell’s face.

“Good to know. You should come watch the practices. I assume you can already fly, but maybe we can help you get ready for being able to try out next year.”

Fred and George shoot Ginny a look when she nods enthusiastically, and her lips twist into a guilty grin when she realises she’s caught.

“So you can fly, can you ickle Gin-Gin?”

Help?

Not my brothers, Gin.

Not helpful, Potter.

I know, I’m not really trying to be.

Hallie barely resists the urge to snicker as Ginny relates to her brothers how she’s been sneaking out at night to practise on their brooms since just after Ron left for Hogwarts. But she freely smiles when both of them look at her with pride.

“That’s our sister, chip off the old block I say!”

“Too right old boy, too right, but we must know Gin-”

“-who’s broom were you using-”

“because Charlie’s old cleansweep-”

“-pulls a bit to the right!” Ginny finishes, smiling wide.

Hallie meanwhile, has noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

“Oliver?”

“Yes?” The sixth-year in question looks at her, tilting his head.

“I think I caught somewhere in your lecture earlier that you booked the pitch?”

“That’s right.” He looks at her oddly, then follows her eye-line. “The bastards!”

Wood rockets off towards the seven people in green robes strutting towards the pitch and the rest of the team follows at a more sedate pace. They land just in time to hear Wood’s blood pressure rising.

“I booked the pitch!” He insists. “I booked it!”

“I have a note.” Marcus Flint says smugly, producing a scrap of parchment bearing the signature of one Severus Snape. “Owing to the need to train up our new seeker.”

“What new seeker.” Alicia asks shrewdly, before Draco Malfoy steps out from behind the taller boys with a grin.

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Fred asks, eyes narrowing.

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father.” Flint holds up his broom. “He made a very generous contribution.”

Hallie looks at the gold lettering picking out the name Nimbus Two Thousand and One and feels a little sick.

Bought his way onto a Quidditch team. Ginny thinks, venom dripping from the words. How dare he.

I don’t think he cares about sportsmanship, Gin.

The sheer affront Hallie feels from the other girl in her head makes her grin despite herself.

“What are you smiling about, scarhead?” Malfoy scowls at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, you no longer have such an unfair advantage.”

“I’m just thinking about how much funnier it’ll be when I beat you to the snitch despite the new broom.” Hallie raises her eyebrows and Malfoy scowls.

“Your mind must be addled by the worthless mudblood you always hang around, Potter .” He spits her name like it’s acid, but that isn’t the part that makes Hallie angry.

Ginny’s rage in the back of her mind explodes like a bomb, and Flint is jumping in front of Malfoy to defend him from Fred and George.

Gin? The anger is rolling off her in waves like molten lava and Hallie is staggered by the depth of it.

How dare he.

What did he do? What does it mean?

Ginny’s fury spikes again and Hallie has a difficult time not letting it bleed over.

Gin please. What does it mean?

Oliver is standing over Fred and George with a dark expression aimed at Malfoy where he cowers behind Flint’s body.

“Let’s go, we’ll practise later.” He mounts his broom and the Gryffindors fly back to the stands.

“Should have let us hurt him, Oliver.” Fred’s voice is filled with anger and Oliver sighs.

“We can’t rise to bait without one of us getting into trouble, but we’ll crush them on the field. And I’ll speak to Professor McGonagall.”

Ginny? Hallie tries again and there’s a kind of mental sigh.

Sorry Hallie.

What did it mean?

It’s a horrible way to describe someone who isn’t a pure-blooded witch or wizard. He basically said Hermione has filthy blood, like there’s something about her that’s unclean or unworthy.

But that’s-.

Horrible, yeah.

*~*

The first Quidditch match of the year is the Lion’s chance for vengeance, and Hallie is determined not to lose it.

They’ve been practising hard, and the feeling of being in the air in a match once again soothes her nerves, even with Malfoy’s jeers.

“Alright there, Scarface?” Malfoy hangs around her, looking stiff on his broom despite the extra practice they’d successfully robbed from the Gryffindors earlier in the month.

Isn’t that a muggle movie? Hallie thinks, a vague memory of seeing the tape in Uncle Vernon’s collection in the living room flickering across her mind.

What’s a movie? Ginny asks.

I’ll show you one sometime. Hallie thinks, as the Quaffle is released and the match starts in earnest.

At that moment, a bludger streaks at her so fast that she barely dodges, and Hallie drops like a stone as it for some reason comes around to follow her.

That was close! Ginny says, as Hallie leads the ball towards George, who gives it an almighty whack.

When it changes direction halfway towards a Slytherin Chaser, Hallie’s stomach sinks and she instinctively hangs herself inverted, watching the bludger streak past where her head just was, before it sweeps around and flies directly at her.

Race you then. She thinks. Her Nimbus goes vertical and Hallie rockets towards the ground, aborting her dive halfway through and gaining a few extra feet on the bludger as she presses the broom to full speed.

She hears a beater’s bat give a sharp crack a few milliseconds after she passes Fred, but he shouts a warning before she can go back to her regular searching pattern.

“It’s still on you Hallie!”

The seeker chances a look and her heart climbs into the back of her throat as her vision is almost entirely obscured by a fast-moving black ball.

She pushes the Nimbus forwards acting purely on gut instinct, overbalancing its usual dive retention angle and causing it to flip on its axis, the heavy iron ball passing through her thick trailing hair. But now she’s falling. Hallie feels the broom start to spin and fights with it, shifting her weight until it feels level enough to remember it’s flying, and then she flies directly at Slytherin's new seeker.

Draco looks astonished as Hallie passes over the front of his brand new broom at the Nimbus’ top speed, and even more surprised when the bludger following stubbornly in her wake nearly smashes the shaft of his finely polished new model Nimbus into matchwood.

Damn. Hallie thinks as Madam Hooches’ whistle sounds a time-out. I missed.

“Fred, George.” Oliver sounds like he’s trying not to be angry. “What’s going on? Their beaters are all over us!”

“The other bludger is targeting Hallie, with no restrictions.” George says, his mouth set in a grim line. Fred nods his agreement.

“It feels like it’s been tampered with, Oliver.”

“That’s not possible.” Oliver hums.

“Well possible or not, it’s happening.” Fred folds his arms. “We can’t be in two places at once, it’s like defending a seeker from two single minded beaters.”

“So don’t defend me.” Hallie shrugs. “We’re already down by sixty, and it would be more if Oliver wasn’t the best keeper in the school.”

Tell them to try the Immelmann Defence. Ginny murmurs in her head.

What’s that? A vague knowledge of an offensive plan flickers through her head and Hallie smiles.

“We can play Immelmann Defence, Oliver.”

The captain’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I can do it.” Hallie nods.

“Right then.” Oliver hums. “Fred, George, know the Immelmann?” When they shake their heads, Oliver explains. “Shadow our chasers while Hallie flies offensively. We’ll rack up such a score that even when they catch the snitch, we still win.”

Who came up with this? Hallie asks, as both teams get in position to resume play.

German national team, hundred-ish years ago. Seeker was Max Immelmann, he was so good people would stop at nothing to take him out of the game. Eventually they stopped relying on him to catch the snitch at all. Ginny sounds vaguely embarrassed about knowing that. I think I’ve read too much of Quidditch Through the Ages.

Need that knowledge if you’re going to play for the Harpies. Hallie smiles as the whistle sounds and she takes off at top speed, luxuriating in Ginny’s faint blush.

Ginny’s idea turns out to be the right call, and even with their new brooms, the Slytherins are soon on the back foot as the Lion’s chasers rack up a swift eighty points.

Hallie doesn’t even notice the score, because she swiftly uses up every trick in the book to stay ahead of the charmed bludger, and has to start writing new ones.

She executes a slalom between the stands as rain starts to pour, leaving fat droplets on her glasses as a whistling sounds behind her. She pulls the Nimbus through a turn as she rounds the Professor’s stand, shooting up and over the side and then down the front, executing a sloth grip as she passes directly in front of the stunned teachers and the bludger flies right through where her spine just was.

“I had no idea you did ballet, Potter.” Draco laughs as the boy keeps within sight of her, firing off weak insults for her to ignore. Hallie races up to him and pulls up, standing the broom on its bristles before it stalls out and she falls sideways for a split-second, rapidly pulling through a roll with her feet jammed into the stirrups, coming up behind him and leaving Malfoy in the path of the determined iron sphere that he barely avoids.

Damn. Ginny thinks. You barely missed him that time.

As luck would have it, Slytherin’s chasers take possession off the back of a goal, and right as they form up, Hallie spots a flicker of gold below their massed brooms.

She dives into what would in the absence of a snitch be a picture perfect Wronski Feint, splitting their formation mid pass and clipping Adrian Pucey’s shiny new Nimbus with the bludger tailing her to boot.

That was amazing. Ginny crows, and Hallie grins as she dives towards the ground faster than the rainwater.

I have an advantage here. She thinks. Malfoy won’t get too close for fear of the bludger.

She chances a look back as she levels out mere inches above the ground and sure enough, Malfoy is keeping his distance, not daring to get within striking range.

Hallie flattens herself to her broom and coaxes as much speed from it as it can possibly give her. The world turns blurrier than rain-soaked castle windows, and through the messy haze on her glasses Hallie focuses solely on that little tiny glitter of gold that she’s steadily closing on.

The snitch jinks and she rolls on instinct, using her body-weight to throw the broom into a tighter turn than it should ever be able to manage at top speed, and feeling her fingers close on the cold metal water-streaked ball as it flickers to the right to avoid the stands.

Hallie comes free of her broom as the momentum she’d used to give it the tighter turn radius is paid through, and she lands on her back on the sand below Gryffindor’s goal posts with a satisfied smile on her face, arm with the snitch outstretched.

A heavy iron ball moving at a wicked terminal velocity impacts Hallie’s outstretched arm that’s holding the snitch and she screams in agony as the bones shatter.

“HALLIE!” She hears Ginny’s voice and instinctively tries to roll towards it, hearing the muted thud of the bludger impacting sand a moment later and feeling it hit her hair where her head was just laying. She screams again as she tries to move her arm without thinking and some of the shattered bones grind, before there’s the crack of a beater’s bat and the “ Ooof . GOT IT!” of one of the Weasley twins catching the rogue bludger before it can try to actually murder her.

“Hallie!” Ginny, Ron and Hermione are at her side and Hallie smiles.

“How was that catch then?”

“Bloody spectacular.” Ron whispers and Ginny grins at Hallie, then smacks her uninjured shoulder gently.

"But don’t you ever do that again!”

“Noted.” Hallie tries to sit up and yelps as her arm protests violently. “I think I might need to go to the hospital wing.

“Maybe so.” Oliver Wood lands next to her, mud splattered but grinning from ear to ear. “Damn spectacular catch -and while we played Immelmann no less!- your best yet I’d wager.”

He goes to say more, but is interrupted by a Weasley twin.

“OLIVER! We need a hand!”

Wood bolts over to them and Hallie's eyes follow him to where the twins are still wrestling with the enchanted bludger.

“Can you help me sit up please Gin?” She whispers, and Ginny nods, helping her gently into a sitting position as a crowd forms, Professor Lockheart battling his way to the front.

“Hallie!” He exclaims. “Spectacular catch dear girl, now, I’ll have that arm fixed in a jiffy!”

Oh Merlin no. Hallie and Ginny think in tandem.

“I’d really prefer to go to Madam Pomfrey, Professor.” Hallie tries to protest but to no avail, and a second later, Lockheart’s wand is twirled and then her arm is flopping uselessly around.

That does make her pass out.

She wakes up in the hospital wing, Ginny in the chair next to her bed.

“Ah, Miss Potter.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice seems to startle Ginny awake and her eyes snap up.

“Hallie!”

“Hey Gin.” She smiles. “Thanks for bringing me up here.”

“Damn fool Lockheart.” Madam Pomfrey curses under her breath. “I can mend bones in a second, but now I have to regrow the damn things!” She mutters darkly under her breath some more and Hallie hides her smirk.

“Will you be able to fix my arm?” She asks, plaintively.

“Oh don't worry dear, I’ll get it fixed.” Hogwarts' Mediwitch grumbles a few more choice words. “But you really should have come to me directly.”

“I wanted to.” Hallie struggles into a slightly more elevated sitting position. “It’s just that the Professor didn’t really take no for an answer.”

“I suspected as much.” Madam Pomfrey’s expression turns positively murderous. “I’ll have words with him.”

She produces a bottle of something labelled “Skele-gro” and pours out a measure.

“This will be uncomfortable and take all night, Miss Potter.” She warns.

Hallie downs the cup without a second thought and grimaces as it burns its way down her throat like she’s decided to take a drink of bleach.

“Good lass.” Madam Pomfrey praises her. “Now I’m afraid I’ll have to throw you out for the moment Miss Weasley, but Miss Potter should be out of here tomorrow morning in time for breakfast.

“Okay.” Ginny hangs her discarded Gryffindor scarf around her neck and smiles softly. “I’ll see you later Hallie.”

Don’t worry, Gin. Hallie thinks as she leaves the hospital wing. We can always talk.

I know. Ginny seems simultaneously happy and worried. Will you help me with my homework? Hallie laughs and Madam Pomfrey shoots her an off look from the corner of her eye.

Sure.

*~*

“A duelling club!” Seamus and Dean are talking loudly and excitedly about the notice of parchment pinned up on the noticeboard in the entrance hall, and Saemus excitedly waves Ron over.

“Look at this! I wonder who’ll teach it?”

“Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was younger.” Hermione pipes up. “Maybe it’ll be him?”

“Could be.” Hallie looks closer at the parchment. “It’s eight o’clock tonight, let’s go along!”

“It’d be wicked to learn how to duel.” Ron mentions as they walk away, and the others enthusiastically agree.

What do you think, Gin? Hallie asks as the second years head to Transfiguration.

Duelling seems cool. Ginny seems a touch less enthusiastic. I can’t help but think it might be kind of useless in a real fight though.

That’s true… Hallie considers it for a second. Maybe at least we’ll learn some cool spells or see a really interesting demonstration?

That would be wicked. GInny agrees. Save me a spot!

Come eight that evening, the four of them show up in the entrance hall along with almost the entire rest of the student body.

“Cool.” Ron says, looking around.

Hallie sees the house tables have vanished, replaced with a golden stage along the entire far wall, lit by dozens of floating candles hovering beneath the deep, silken darkness of the enchanted ceiling.

As they edge closer to the stage, Hallie is struck by a sudden thought.

“I really hope it’s not Lockheart teaching this.”

No sooner has she opened her mouth than Professor Gilderoy Lockheart steps onto the stage in voluminous plum robes, trailed by Professor Snape wearing his usual black robes and usual vexed scowl.

You had to open your mouth. Ginny teases.

I need to just avoid talking for the rest of the year. Hallie sighs internally.

I like your voice. Ginny offers shyly, and Hallie takes her hand subtly.

Thanks Gin, I think yours is pretty too.

I never said your voice was pretty, Potter.

You said you liked it, same difference.

Is not!

Is too!

The two of them are dragged from their little internal conversation by Lockheart’s speech.

“-fear not, you’ll still have your potions master when I’m done with him!” He titters a foppish laugh and smiles all eighty four of his glittering teeth. “Now, first we shall bow to each other.” Lockheart drops into an extravagant bow, with much twirling of his hands. Snape jerks his head with narrowed eyes, and settles into a duellist's resting stance. “As you can see.” Lockheart says, voice loud and full of confidence, as he similarly raises his wand in front of him like a sword. “We are holding our wands in the accepted combative position!” He flashes a smirk that’s probably supposed to be dazzling. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Although of course, neither of us will be aiming to kill.”

Isn’t that a damn shame. Hallie thinks. Ginny snickers next to her.

“One. Two. Three!” As soon as the word “three” leaves Lockheart’s mouth, both Professors swing their wands up and over their shoulders.

“Expelliarmus!” Snape cries, strident and clear, and his wand gives a flash of brilliant crimson light that impacts Lockheart square in the chest. The man is catapulted bodily off the end of the stage and impacts the wall with a crash , then slides to the floor with an undignified groan.

The Slytherin’s cheer, while Hermione looks to be on tenterhooks.

“Do you think he’s okay!?” She gasps

“Who cares?” Hallie and Ginny mutter.

At the end of the hall, Lockheart is pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, his wavy hair standing on end in a way that makes Hallie think of a surprised electrocuted hedgehog.

Shame he wasn’t really electrocuted. Ginny says, and Hallie squeezes her hand with the one occupied by her recently-regrown bones.

He didn’t do any permanent damage to me. I’m okay Gin.

Still. Ginny winds their fingers together a bit more. I don’t like what he did to you. You’d be just as vindictive if he did that to me.

True. Hallie can’t quite put her finger on why she feels so strongly about that, but she knows it's true, and that she is exceptionally glad to have Ginny in her life.

“Well now…” Lockheart coughs as he totters unsteadily back onto the platform. “That was an excellent disarming charm, as you see, everyone, I’ve lost my wand -ah, thank you Miss Brown-. An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, although if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were going to do, and it would have been only too easy to stop you, but very instructive to let them see, of course.” He smooths his hair back to its regular wavy state and coughs when he notices Snape’s utterly murderous expression. “Yes, well, enough demonstrating! I think we’ll get you all to pair off, and…”

Instinctively, Hallie turns to Ginny, but Snape stops her with a cold smile.

“Best to break up your little group of troublemakers, I think.” He drawls. “Mr Malfoy, come over here, let’s see what you make of the famous Miss Potter…”

Ginny reluctantly moves to find another partner and Hallie keeps a cautious eye on Malfoy.

Be careful. Ginny warns her.

Absolutely. Hallie replies, eyes narrowed.

Lockheart counts down, and Malfoy moves on two.

The spell feels like Hallie has been hit over the head by a saucepan -a feeling she is unfortunately rather familiar with-, but she keeps her grip on her wand and fires back.

“Rictusempra!”

A jet of silver light exits Hallie’s wand and hits Malfoy square and true in the chest, Ollivander’s words from over a year ago enter her mind along with Ginny’s praise.

“- accurate and speedy; a duelist’s wand, if I had to guess-”

Good job Hallie!

Thanks Gin. You too!

Malfoy doubles over, barely able to move from laughter and the power of Hallie’s tickling charm, and she holds back from any more spells, feeling it unsportsmanlike to curse him while he’s down. Sadly this soon proves itself to be a mistake, as despite choking for breath Malfoy manages to point his wand at Hallie and choke out a “tarantallegra!” between wheezing breaths.

Hallie feels her legs begin to jerk of their own accord into some kind of uncontrolled dance.

“Finite!” Snape cries suddenly, and the jerking stops as Malfoy’s uncontrolled laughter does, leaving Hallie to take stock of the hall.

Several pairs of students have evidently gone beyond Lockheart’s ‘disarming only’ stipulation, and Ginny is busy trying to pull an angry Millicent Bullstrode off Hermione. Hallie sprints forwards to help her.

What happened there? She asks.

Not a clue. Ginny responds, looking at Hermione with worry shining in her bright brown eyes.

What follows is a laughable demonstration of the shield charm, and when Lockheart tries to laugh off his ‘excited wand’ Hallie has to bite her tongue to stop herself from snapping at him in anger, especially when she’s called up to the opposite end of the stage.

I don’t like that. She thinks as Malfoy takes his place opposite her on the long, narrow platform, especially when Snape whispers something in the blond boy’s ear.

Me either. Ginny agreed.

When Malfoy yells “serpensortia!” Hallie’s response to the threat of the snake lunging at her is automatic.

“Stop!” She commands, and to her surprise, it works. The dark brown serpent tilts its head at her and curls up, placidly watching her.

Hallie… Ginny’s voice is tinged with worry and fear, and Hallie feels her heart constrict. Ginny is afraid of her .

Gin? What’s wrong?

You’re a parselmouth. That’s something only dark wizards are meant to be able to do.

I’m not a dark witch Gin, I didn't even know I could do this!

Several students run away from the hall in fear, and Hallie feels helpless and terrified, because Ginny is among them.

*~*

Dear Tom,

Something happened in the duelling club. My friend Hallie is a parselmouth. I know she’s not dark, but it’s a little scary. I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t think I can talk to her about this.

That’s very interesting Ginny, would you tell me more about it?

*~*

Hallie lays awake that night, sniffling into her pillow until Ginny’s voice sounds in her head.

Hallie?

Ginny! Hallie seizes the opportunity. Ginny, did I do something wrong? I didn’t even know I could speak that, that language…

It’s okay. Ginny imagines sending a warm hug. I’m sorry, you don’t need to apologise, I know you’re still you. I’m in your head.

A smile graces Hallie’s lips as her puffy eyes squeeze out a few more tears, this time of happiness.

Thanks Gin. It really hurt me, to see you run away like that.

I’m so sorry. Ginny sounds on the edge of tears herself. It was a shock, I thought I knew all about you.

I don't want to be some evil, dark wizard. Hallie sniffles in the quiet of the dorm room. I don’t want to be like- She doesn't have to finish that thought, Ginny understands as vague recollections of Voldemort and last year’s dramatic fight flicker through their combined memories.

You won’t be like him, I promise. More than anything, Ginny wishes that right now she could give Hallie a hug like she did when the other girl arrived at the Burrow.

I’d like a hug like that. Hallie rubs at her eyes to get rid of the tear tracks.

Let’s head down to the common room. Ginny suggests. You don’t deserve to be alone right now.

I have you here, I’m never alone.

And don’t you forget it, Potter!

There’s a burst of affection as the two of them come back into their harmony, and another subtle set of mental hooks are repulsed before they can truly get their claws into Ginny’s mind.

In the private world of his diary, Tom Riddle decides that desperate times call for desperate measures.

*~*

“Hallie, I'm very glad you could join me.”

The girl in question looks up from trailing a gentle finger over Fawkes’ head.

“Professor?”

Albus Dumbledore takes a seat behind his desk. Little silver instruments whir and whirl incessantly in front of him.

“I wanted to speak with you regarding something most… interesting.” His eyes sparkle behind half-moon glasses. “I see you’ve met Fawkes.”

The bird in question gives a happy trill and settles on his perch, cocking his head at Hallie.

“I’m sorry for approaching him without permission.” Hallie bows her head. “I shouldn’t have-.”

“It’s quite alright.” Dumbledore reassures her. “If Fawkes did not want your attention he would let you know.”

“Oh.” Hallie goes back to stroking one finger down the bird’s neck. “He’s a very strange bird, Professor.”

“Strange is relative, I assure you.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle. Fawkes gives a harsher sound and pulls away from Hallie’s hand. “Step back now, Hallie.”

The girl pulls away, hand falling to her side.

“Did I do something wrong, Prof-.” She doesn’t finish her sentence as Fawkes is consumed in bright fire. The bird gives a sound almost like a sigh of happiness and in the back of her head Ginny’s voice pipes up.

Wow! Mum mentioned once that Professor Dumbledore had a phoenix!

A phoenix?

I don’t know much about them. Ginny hums in the back of her head. But they- .

“Fascinating creatures, phoenixes.” Dumbledore cuts off Ginny without knowing it. “I believe you would normally cover them in your NEWTs. When they die, they are reborn from the ashes.”

A tiny head pokes up from a pile of ash with a squeak. Hallie smiles.

“I’m afraid we’ve gotten distracted.” Dumbledore hums. “Impressive as it is, I am afraid I did not ask you to my office simply to witness Fawkes on his burning day.”

Hallie becomes downcast immediately.

“Am I going to be expelled, Professor?”

“Expelled?” Dumbledore’s eyebrow raises. “I shouldn’t think so.” His eyes twinkle and his beard shifts as his lips curl into a smile. “Why? Have you done something that might warrant it?”

“Because of the duelling club.” Hallie scuffs at the stone floor with her. “I spoke to the snake. Everyone’s been saying I’m dark.”

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s eyes lose some of their magic. “You won’t be expelled for being a parselmouth, Hallie, I promise you that. As for the other matter.” He sighs heavily, and Hallie sees the years start to pile on his shoulders. “I have known a few too many dark witches and wizards in my time, Hallie. I can very safely say you are not among them.” He produces his wand and twirls it, a small empty glass flask is produced from thin air. “You may be aware of prejudices held in the muggle world. People are judged, unfairly, on the colour of their skin or whom they fall in love with.”

Hallie nods slowly, and watches as the headmaster puts his wand to his temple and withdraws it slowly, a shimmering silver rope floating at the tip which is carefully lowered into the bottle.

“It makes me sad to say that our world is not free of similar prejudice.” He places the flask to his side and Hallie stares at it for a moment, transfixed, before the headmaster continues. “To be a parselmouth is a gift, Hallie. It provides you a rare opportunity. It is the intent behind magic that matters.” He looks at her, a depth of endless kindness now in his eyes. “Always remember that.”

Hallie nods quickly.

“Yes Professor.”

“Good.” Dumbledore stands from his desk and again looks every inch the jovial headmaster Hallie knows. “Now I must say, the reason I asked you here on your weekend is to discuss with you something I found on a recent trip to the Ministry of Magic.” He walks to a side table and picks up a small spinning device, a series of rings within rings. “I journeyed recently, after much preparation, to the Hall of Records in the Department of Mysteries. While there, I found something I did not expect.”

“What was that Professor?” Hallie asks, eyes wide.

“A book!” Dumbledore laughs softly, "I found a book with a most interesting passage within it.” He turns and regards her gently. “Tell me, Hallie, are you close at all with young Ginevra Weasley?”

Ginny’s shock rolls into Hallie’s and vice versa, back and forth until the shock turns to panic, then melds and merges. She can’t breathe, the floor is cold and the room is swaying and-.

“Hallie!” Dumbledore kneels next to her -when did she fall over?- and places a hand on her back. “Hallie! Breathe, you must breathe!”

She tries, desperately gasping for air that just doesn’t seem to fill her lungs up. Vaguely she’s aware of Dumbledore twirling his wand and saying something, she can’t tell what but she catches two names in the haze.

“Minerva… Ginevra Weasley…”

Something silver and bright washes over her skin and Hallie feels momentary happiness that’s out of place in her panic before the headmaster waves his wand over her and whispers an incantation.

An artificial-feeling calmness settles and Hallie can breathe, slightly. Dumbledore helps her to a chair and sits her down gently, conjuring a plush, high-backed seat of his own with a wave of his wand.

“I must apologise.” He says. “First, for startling you, and secondly for casting a calming spell.” Hallie nods -it’s about all she can do, the feeling of panic that isn’t hers hammering at the inside of her head- and the headmaster continues. “I dislike casting spells that interfere with a person’s emotions or autonomy, but I feared I had no alternative, and I must ask for your forgiveness. I promise you, I will remove the spell once Professor McGonagall gets here with Young Ginevra.”

“Ginny.” Hallie whispers, she forces herself to swallow. “She-she hates her full name.”

“Young Ginny.” Dumbledore corrects himself.

When the head of Gryffindor House does arrive with Ginny Weasley in a somewhat panicked state, the first year quickly hops up beside Hallie on the chair. True to his word, Dumbledore immediately whispers a word and taps his wand on Hallie’s head gently.

The artificial restriction on her emotions lifts but by now the panic has settled, and Hallie grasps Ginny’s hand.

“Thank you Professor.” She says, voice still a bit thin.

“Are you feeling well?” Dumbledore asks them gently. When they both nod, he gestures gently to his deputy headmistress. “As your head of house, Professor McGonagall should also be aware of what I’m about to tell you.” He says, voice level. “It has potential concerns for your safety, but it is also private.” He looks over his half-moon glasses, eyes searching but not aggressively. “Are you both okay with Professor McGonagall remaining here for this discussion?”

Hallie sits back, mind aswirl with the remnants of her panic as a new fear of being sent back to the Dursleys rears its head, and Ginny nods for them both.

“It’s okay Sir.”

Dumbledore waves his wand and conjures another comfortable armchair for the head of Gryffindor.

“Very well.” He gets himself comfortable again. “As I said to you, Hallie, I recently went to the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. Within the Hall of Records I found a book that contains records of every kind of magical bonding that happens in the country.” He pauses and steeples his fingers in thought. “Both of your names are in there, under a little used section headed as ‘soul bonds’.” He takes another breath, Ginny watches their head of house for a reaction and finds none but mild confusion. “There are many types of magical bonds in this world, my dear students. Soul bonds are quite rare -quite rare indeed- but not unheard of. Their manifestation however is almost always entirely unique. Some report being able to hear their partner’s voice in their mind, others report a deep and intuitive connection to their partner’s emotions, yet others are always, instinctively, able to locate their bonded partner from any distance.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle. “I myself was part of such a bond a long time ago, my partner and I could effortlessly swap wands as our magical cores were entwined, and felt a tugging sensation towards each other at all times.”

Ginny sits forwards in wonder, her fingers grasping Hallie’s.

“I didn’t know that Professor!”

“It is not a part of my life I have shared with many people.” Dumbledore summons a saucer and cup to his hands and the cup fills with tea. He takes a drink and sighs. “As I said, Miss Weasley, these things are highly private. You will feel an instinctive need to keep this knowledge to yourselves -hence, I imagine, the panic when I revealed my knowledge, which again I apologise for-. I myself would not bring it up to reveal the knowledge even now, were it not for your bond causing some other problems.” He turns to his fellow teacher. “Minerva, when young Hallie was so cruelly ripped from her parents in her infancy, the Order left her with her muggle relatives, due to the issues around Messrs Black and Lupin, as I am sure you remember.”

“And well I remember it, Albus.” Professor McGonagall’s voice emanates a note of anger. “Loathe it though I did, your reasoning could not, in the end, be argued with.”

“And that decision has weighed heavily on me.” Dumbledore says softly. “I owe you apologies for which words are not and could never be sufficient, Hallie, for your treatment there. But there were reasons.” He conjures another saucer which fills after a second with a few pieces of shortbread, and hands it to Ginny, who sinks back into the chair and shares it with a wide-eyed Hallie. “Do you feel up to continuing this conversation? This is a lot for a young mind to process, I know.”

Hallie nods, hesitantly, and takes a small bite of their biscuits.

“I think so, Professor.”

“Very good.” Dumbledore nods. “When your mother sacrificed herself to protect you, Hallie, she invoked an ancient and powerful form of magic in your defence. Using this, I was able to draw upon that magic to create wards that drew upon the bond of blood you shared with your Mother’s sister. So long as the two of you were together as a family, you were not only hidden from the supporters of Lord Voldemort, but also protected in the case that any should find you.” His cup of tea refills itself, and Professor McGonagall conjures herself a similar cup after a moment’s thought. “However, there is an old saying. ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’.” He looks gravely towards the bevy of instruments on his sideboard. “Your bond with Miss Weasley has begun to erode those old protections as it cements; and while I am quite sure you will be happy not to have to return there, there is an issue of where you shall stay when the wards run out.”

He flicks his wand and a set of wheels-within-wheels floats over from the sideboard and into his hand for him to display. “At the current rate of deceleration, the wards have only two more summer’s worth of time before they become entirely useless. Loathe as I am to place you in a house of neglect for any more time, I fear their protection is too valuable to forgo.” The instrument in his hand spins slowly. “Again, this is information both of you must guard carefully.” His eyes cease to twinkle and take on a measure of strength. “Among the many magics favoured by Lord Voldemort and his supporters, legilimency, or the art of cleaving into someone’s mind, is rated highly.” The twinkle returns to his eyes. “Your bond, especially if it is the type I suspect, gives you a degree of natural resistance, but we cannot count on it forever. By next year, I hope to have secured a tutor for you.” He takes a deep breath, the twinkle returning to his eyes and the graveness lifting from his tone. “But for now, enjoy being children. It is not an opportunity you’ll have forever, and it is one that I hope you prize.” He sits back in his chair. “Do you have any questions?”

Ginny takes another bite of shortbread, brow furrowed.

“Can’t Hallie just stay with us Professor? Mum and Dad love her, and she stayed with us anyway for a bit last summer!”

“A good thought, Miss Weasley.” Dumbledore smiles gently at her. “I’m sure it can be considered, but while your parents are powerful wizards, Hallie’s wards wearing off could put them in a degree of danger. But I certainly think it’s a very good option.” He takes another sip of tea. “How are you feeling, Hallie?” He asks, attention directed at the dark-haired girl resting on Ginny’s shoulder. “I am, as I said, loath to place you in a den of neglect in spite of the powerful protections it grants.”

Hallie shrugs.

“I could deal with it if it’s important, Professor.” She looks, downcast, at her feet. “But I don’t know if Uncle Vernon would let me back in the house. Before Ginny’s brothers helped me out last summer, things…” She trails off and sniffles. Ginny places a hand on her arm.

“They locked her up with only a cat flap for food and bars on the window.” She whispers.

A brief, dark cloud is cast over Professor McGonagall’s brow in anger.

“The girl cannot go back there, Albus.”

“Hearing that, I am inclined to agree.” Dumbledore murmurs, gravel in his grave-toned voice. “Hallie, I promise you I will do everything in my power to provide a place for you to stay. But…” He starts to murmur deep in thought and Hallie shrugs.

“I can probably stomach one more summer, Professor.” She prompts. “You said the wards are important to protect everyone else too.” She swallows, determinedly. “I can just do my best to stay out of the way.” She shrugs uncomfortably. “I can always let Ginny know if something goes very wrong.” She hums, opening her mouth to speak more and deciding against it before Ginny vocalises the thought for her.

“Hallie it doesn’t make it better if you think he won’t hit you too hard! ”

“He only hit me that hard once!” Hallie protests. “And I healed just fine!”

“Who hit you?” Professor McGonagall asks, quiet but stern.

“Her Uncle!” Ginny responds. “He hi-.”

“Gin.” Hallie’s hand grips hers tightly. “Please.”

“He broke your arm.” Ginny mutters, sullen. “And it still hurts when you write for too long!”

“It was years ago!” Hallie exclaims. “Please, Professor, if the wards are important to protect everyone I can-.”

“No.” Dumbledore silences her with a single word. “Absolutely not. Your relatives are now out of the question.”

“I quite agree!” Professor McGonagall stands with purpose. “Hallie, dear. I’d like to take you to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey should check on that arm.”

“I-.” Hallie starts to protest but visibly wilts under her Professor’s iron-willed glare. “Yes Professor McGonagall.” She stands up and follows her head of house out of the office. Ginny’s eyes follow her with a forlorn expression.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” She whispers, under her breath.

“I know it may seem hard, but I wouldn’t worry about it.” Professor Dumbledore reassures her gently, holding out his hand for Ginny’s saucer and vanishing it once she has relinquished it to him. “One thing I learned from my own bond is that no matter the circumstances, it’s quite difficult to truly stay angry at someone with whom you have such a close connection.” He gives her a kind look, eyes swimming with the depth of years gone by; and then composes himself. “Now, I shall need to speak to your parents.” He holds up his hands gently. “I shall not reveal too much.” His eyes twinkle again. “But it’s getting quite late, pop off and enjoy your evening.”

*~*

Dear Tom. I found out something incredible today! I have this special connection with my friend Hallie!

That’s fascinating Ginny! Tell me more about it?

It’s really private though.

I’m just a diary. What harm could it do to get your thoughts down?

I guess that’s true.

*~*

Hallie wakes up in the hospital wing with a murderous headache.

“Gin?” She mumbles in confusion.

“Oh! A voice comes from her left. “Miss Potter, I must say you gave us quite the scare there.”

“Madam Pomfrey?” Hallie sits up and shivers as the feeling of ice-water seems to trickle down her spine. “What happened?”

She has vague memories of following Professor McGonagall down to the hospital wing, sitting there as her arm was checked over by a glowing wand.

“I was rather hoping you could tell me that.” A glass of water is proffered and Hallie accepts, her dry throat welcoming the drink. “You passed out right on your chair, Miss Potter.”

“I don’t remember that?” Hallie mumbles, shivering slightly. “Why is it so cold…” She trails off as her mind focusses sharply and the keen absence is felt for the first time like ice-shards in her bone marrow.

Ginny?

There’s no response. Ginny’s side of the link is dormant in the way not even sleep can manage. Her mind simply isn’t there, like it’s walled off from her.

Hallie feels sick and grits her teeth, she takes a deep breath through her nose and tastes copper, an eerily familiar sensation to biting her own tongue in her first Quidditch game. She shudders and Madam Pomfrey’s hand rests gently on her shoulder even as she swings her legs off the hospital bed.

“Hallie? Stay still dear, what's this about the cold?”

“I’m fine.” Hallie mumbles, feet dragging as she tries to walk away, footsteps uneven on the cold stone.

“You most certainly are-.” Not, is what Hallie expects her to say but they're both startled by Professor McGonagall sweeping into the room. 

“Poppy? Ah, Miss Potter.” The stern elderly witch’s expression contains only seriousness. “I'm afraid I'll need to take you back to your common room immediately. There's been an incident.” She turns to Madam Pomfrey. “Is Miss Potter well enough to accompany me?”

“I have my doubts.” Madam Pomfrey folds her arms. “Her arm is fine, although it could use a few procedures at a later time, but she passed out on me during the check up.” Her eyes narrow. “And now she's complaining about the cold.”

“P-Professor.” Hallie mumbles, coughs, catches herself and tries again in a stronger voice. “Professor, What's wrong with Ginny?”

Professor McGongall tells her of the message on the wall and the missing student.

*~*

The walk back to the common room is hurried, Hallie follows in Professor McGonagall’s sure footsteps until she's shuffled inside the portrait and the whole house is commanded in no uncertain terms to stay put until the missing student is found, not to mention the cancellation of Quidditch for the year to appease certain members of the Board of Governors.

Naturally, the first thing Hallie Potter does is sprint up to her trunk, grab her invisibility cloak, and gather her friends. 

“We have to find Ginny!” She whispers harshly. “We have to! She's in danger!”

“Hallie, no, no way!” Hermione's protest is just as expected. “Professor McGonagall specifically said to stay put! The teachers will sort it out. How do you even know this is all about Ginny?”

“I just do!” Hallie snaps back, irritable. “The teachers won't do anything! We all know Lockheart is a fraud, you were complaining about him for months!” She looks at Ron, askance. “You'll help me right?”

“Ginny's my sister.” Ron looks determined. “Bloody right, I'll help.”

“What's this-”

“-that we hear-”

“-about helping out Ginny?”

Hallie yelps in surprise as two arms are thrown across her shoulders and the voices of the Weasley twins assail her ears. 

“Fred! George!” She turns to them with desperation written clearly on her features. “Ginny’s in trouble!”

The twins share a look and then one of them nods.

“She did walk out looking a bit dazed before we all got told to stay put, went down to that bathroom on the second floor. With the pushy ghost.”

“Myrtle isn't-.” Hermione begins before being shushed.

“She walked up to one of the sinks and just disappeared.”

Not dwelling on what that means or how they know it, Hallie nods. “Then that's where we need to go.” Hallie stands with purpose and tries to ignore the feeling of ice encasing her spine and the dull, dark void in her head.

“Hallie!” Hermione hisses. “What are you doing!”

“She’s in danger! ” Hallie pleads. “Hermione please… ”

Hermione takes a deep breath before standing up with a look of determined resignation.

“You two.” She points at Fred and George. “We won’t be able to walk out if everyone is watching.”

“Right you are!” One of the twins gives a little salute and stands quickly. The other one follows suit and soon enough a loud voice commands the attention of the whole common room.

“Attention Gryffindor!”

With their house thoroughly distracted, Hallie, Ron, and Hermione slip underneath the invisibility cloak and quietly exit through the portrait hole.

The walk down to the second floor bathroom is fraught with worry. They narrowly avoid a serious-looking Professor Snape prowling around on the third floor, and Professor Flitwick has them all standing still as statues and holding their breath on the second; but eventually they duck inside the creaky-doored disused second floor bathroom and take the cloak from their heads.

“Ginny?” Ron calls nervously. “Ginny? Are you here?”

Hallie goes to the stalls and starts pushing them open one-by-one. The puddle on the floor splashes around her shoes as the rotting doors clatter open on rusted hinges. The mirror on the wall is flecked and dirty and Hermione splashes forwards nervously.

“Are we sure she’s in here?”

“Who are you looking fooooor?” Moaning Myrtle floats out of the cubicle on the end, her ghostly eyes vacant by quickly zeroing in on Ron. “You brought a boy?” She bats her eyelashes -an unsettling effect on a ghost- and floats up to the uncomfortable-looking Gryffindor.

“I’m-I’m just looking for my sister.”

“Oh.” Myrtle looks downcast and floats away towards a toilet again. “I just go back to my toilet. Nobody wants to talk to me.”

“Did you s-see her in here?” Hallie asks, shivering as another run of ice water seems to wind its way down her back. “With hair like-like his?” A shiver splits her words and Myrtle hums as she floats away.

“There was a girl earlier, she had red hair, but she didn’t want to talk either.”

“That must have been Ginny.” Hallie grits her teeth as the feeling of deep, abiding cold comes again, more frequently than it did the last time. “But where did she go?”

“Hogwarts is full of secret passages.” Ron mutters. “Fred and George have told us about a few of them.”

“Where would it be hidden though?” Hermione mutters. “It wouldn’t be a toilet, the cubicles are all shredded and they back onto a thin wall. Even a magical passage would need space for some kind of mechanism… The sinks!” She hurries over, spinning all the taps as her footsteps splash in the water. “This wall is a thick one and backs onto the lake, it must be-.” Her hand catches on a tap that refuses to budge. “This one, maybe?”

“That tap’s never worked.” Myrtle says brightly. Hermione’s lips quirk into a smile as her mind really starts to turn.

“Then it must be this one, but how?” She tries pushing and pulling, and then she gives a victorious cry.

“Aha! Hallie! Come here!”

“What?” Hallie hurries over. “What is it?” She follows Herminoe’s finger and sees a little copper snake scratched into the pipe. “What’s that?”

“It’s a sign!” Hermione exclaims, excitement in her voice at the puzzle. “There must be a password or something.”

“What?” Hallie grunts, staring at the little snake carving. “Like just saying open?”

There’s a grinding of stone and the sink moves downwards, leaving exposed a huge pipe reeking of foetid slime.

“That was parseltongue.” Hermione murmurs. “Oh!” She gasps. “The Chamber of Secrets! This must be the Chamber of Secrets!”

“The what?” Hallie mutters. She peers into the pipe, but the darkness swallows her vision before it goes too far.

“It’s a legend.” Hermione looks a bit green at the smell. “In Hogwarts: A History. It’s said that Salazar Slytherin built a chamber as a secret space. He sealed it so that only his true heir could open it! And unleash the monster within…” She trails off, fear in her eyes.

“Monster?” Hallie huffs. “Monster or no, Ginny is down there, I’m sure of it.” She points to Ron. “You need to go and find Professor McGonagall! We’re going to need help!”

“Help?” Hermione starts to say, "we should let- Hallie!”

Hallie tosses her cloak to Ron and jumps straight into the pipe.

It’s a long, fast slide, although mercifully the slime appears to mostly be caked at the entrance, the tunnel itself is mostly coated in a trickle of water. Behind her, the worried yell of Hermione following her down, and around the steep, curving tunnel gives Hallie some idea of how long they’re sliding for, especially when Herminone has to pause to take a breath between her screams.

With almost no warning, the tunnel levels out and they shoot out of the slide into a dark stone tunnel, wet and almost pitch dark.

“ Lumos !” Hallie declares as she holds her wand aloft. A bright white light illuminates the chamber and she helps Herminone to her feet.

“Of all the harebrained, reckless things…” Hermione gladly accepts her hand and stands, but shoots a glare at Hallie that is only accentuated by the sharp shadows in the glare of Hallie’s lumos .

“We should keep moving.” Hallie says, sweeping her wand around. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’ll live.” Hermione’s tone is deeply sarcastic.

Hallie laughs a little and leads her friend away, their feet making awful wet slaps on the flooded stone floor. She tries not to think about what state Ginny might be in when they find her down here.

“Hallie!” Hermione’s voice yanks her out of her thoughts. “There’s something up there!”

Both of them stop dead, pressed against the wall. Hallie pokes her wand and head around the corner and chokes on her gasp of stale, awful air.

A massive, pale, venomous-looking green snakeskin lays in their path, almost twenty feet from end to end.

“A Basilisk.” Hermione shudders. “That’s what Slytherin’s monster must be, it’s a Basilisk!” Hallie swallows hard and walks into the room, past the skin, and finds a massive black-steel wall covered in snakes.

“Hermione.” She turns. “Stay here, if things go wrong, you’ll have to run, try to get help.”

“Hallie no-.” Her friend starts to protest but Hallie shakes her head.

“Hermione, you have to be here! If I can get Ginny out but not me, you can get her out of here.” She takes a deep breath. “Please.”

She turns away and faces the door, her eyes locked on the carved snakes.

“Open.” She hisses, and she can feel the snake language tugging at her vocal chords and hissing in her mouth this time.

The serpent's part and the wall splits open.

Hallie walks inside.

*~*

She hurries through a dark stone passageway, robe flapping and wand held aloft, wishing dearly she had worn trousers today instead of a skirt and tights. Her heart races at every pitch-dark shadow. Every shadow it feels could be the Basilisk? Lurking in some deep recess waiting to pounce.

More than once, with a jolt of fear in her stomach, she thinks she sees one of the carved snakes stirring.

As she passes a final set of pillars, a statue which reaches up into the deep black ceiling of the chamber itself looms over her. Hallie stops short and holds her wand high, taking in the statue’s face, obscured as it is by deep shadow. The statue itself is shrouded in robes, a high collar and an ornate belt whose details are obscured by darkness. But the face gazes down at her, cut with severe shadow and a pointed beard. The eyes are set deep and shrewd, and even in the material of stone there’s a sneer of cold command rendered deeply and intentionally by the sculptor -probably Salazar himself, thinks Hallie-.

The harsh white light of her wand-tip illuminates the statue's feet as Hallie takes steps forwards, and between those cold stone feet there’s a small, black-robed figure with flaming red hair splayed around.

“Ginny!” Hallie breaks into a sprint, dropping to a slide on the wet, rough stone and not caring at how her knees scuff up as her hands find Ginny’s shoulders.

“Ginny please, Ginny wake up please!” Her skin is cold and clammy and she doesn’t stir in the slightest, although when Hallie touches her cheek the sensation of the void in her head lessens just a little bit.

“She won’t wake, you know.” Says a charming, charismatic voice to her right.

Hallie whips around, up to her feet, and fires a disarming spell, exactly as she’d been shown so many weeks ago by Snape’s use against Lockheart. A jet of vibrant crimson light whispers from her wand in an arrow-straight line, sailing straight through the misty figure of a tall, dark-haired boy leaning on a pillar. He raises a well-groomed brow.

“Hallie Potter, I presume. It’s been ever so interesting scooping through her memories of you.”

“What have you done to Ginny?” She asks, her wand trained on the apparition.

“Who said I did anything to Ginny?” The boy -who Hallie suspects must be quite handsome, although she can’t really tell with men-, folds his arms and flashes a smirk.

“You said you were scooping through her memories.” Hallie reasons. “You’ve done something to her! Make her better!”

“Make her better?” The boy shakes his head softly. “No no, stupid girl. She’s going to make me all better. It’ll be the best service she does in her whole life, after all. Restoring life to the greatest wizard of this age.”

“What are you talking about?!” Hallie cries. She takes a step and slips, her wand falling from her fingers and rolling away, the waverly, ghost-like figure picks it up.

“She’s dying, girl.” The boy points with Hallie’s wand to a little black leather-bound diary lying soaked in the water next to Ginny’s hand. He twirls the wand in his fingers, languid and controlled. “And she’s doing it to return me to life.”

The wand twirls slowly, before pointing at Hallie.

“After all, you killed me.”

“What?” Hallie blinks slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh for pity’s sake.” The boy scoffs. He raises Hallie’s wand and traces it through the air, silver fire hangs in the air as he scribes out letters and then flips them around for Hallie to read.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

“Is that you?” Hallie squints. “Are you Tom?”

“I am, in fact, a memory of Tom Riddle; preserved in a diary for years.” The boy -Tom- nods with uncontained condescension. “Not the brightest, are you girl?” He waves the wand and the letters rearrange themselves into a set of words that nearly stop Hallie’s heart.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You’re-.”

“I am, yes.” Tom cuts her off with a drawl. “I fashioned myself a new name to cleanse myself of my filthy muggle father’s legacy. In my veins runs the pure blood of Salazar Slytherin himself! I would not be shackled to such ignobility by something as inconsequential as a name.” He waves Hallie’s wand and the letters vanish. “So you see, I’ve been scraping through little Ginny’s memories for anything I can find about you. Alas there’s not much there. A few dark spots I can’t access. So I’ll ask you instead. How did you escape? How did you, a newborn, escape with naught but a scar and manage to halt the greatest sorcerer in the world, so great his name is unspoken from raw fear.”

Hallie stares as her blood cools to despair. Before her stands some form of the man who murdered her parents. And she is powerless.

“Tell me.” Tom hums, an edge of irritation in his otherwise smooth voice. “Tell me how you destroyed the greatest sorcerer of the modern world.”

“Y-you’re n-not.” Hallie mutters. She gathers a degree of confidence and bravery under her. “You’re not the greatest in the world!”

“Then to whom have I ceded my title.” Tom says, smooth as cool glass and thrice as sharp.

“Albus Dumbledore!” Hallie declares boldly. “You’ve never tried to take over Hogwarts! Even when you were at your height!”

“Enough!” Tom declares. “I-.” He freezes, and then Hallie hears it too.

Music.

Music sings around the chamber, echoing like a hymn in a church made of glass. Eerie and unearthly; it makes Hallie’s heart swell and even a touch of colour return to Ginny’s cheeks. There’s a beat of wings, and a flash of bright flame illuminates the chamber before a crimson bird soars on stale air with a cry, a glittering golden tail leaves sparks in the air behind it and in its talons there’s a ragged bundle.

Its song rattles in Hallie’s skull like a power chord of hope.

“A phoenix.” Tom regards it shrewdly.

“Fawkes.” Hallie breathes. The ragged bundle lands next to her and Hallie sinks her fingers into it as Fawkes perches on a pillar.

“And that rag.” Tom turns his attention back to her as Hallie frantically unpacks the bundle. “It’s the old sorting hat .” He starts to laugh, a cruel, nasty sound.

“ This is what that old man sends his champion?” He mocks. “A songbird and a ragged hat? You must feel so safe now Hallie Potter.” His laughter halts as quickly as it began and Hallie’s own wand is levelled at her.

“Now to my business, Miss Potter.” He scowls. “Tell me, how did you survive, and how possibly did you manage to beat my future self.”

“You couldn’t kill me because of my Mum!” Hallie shouts defiantly, Fawkes’ song still ringing in her head. “She sacrificed herself to save me and you were powerless against her!”

“I see.” Tom strokes his chin, thoughtful. “Yes, a very powerful counter-charm, and not one I would be prepared for. But as I suspected there’s really nothing special about you. Just a stupid girl, in over her head. I had to wonder, of course. There are more than a few similarities between us, half-bloods, orphans, raised by muggles. Indeed it’s probable that we are the only two parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since Slytherin himself. Although, of course, you were orphaned by me .” His charming smirk becomes a cruel, thin smile promising wickedness in every curve of the lips. “So I think I will complete that task now.”

He turns his face up to the statue and begins to speak in a hiss.

“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

Far up, in the darkness, the stone face of Salazar Slytherin begins to move.

Hallie swallows hard and gropes inside the sorting hat.

Just as her hand grazes something cool and metal, something huge hits the stone floor of the chamber.

Hallie backs up and away, her hand still inside the sorting hat with a wrapped, cloth grip in her palm. Her back hits the wall of the chamber and she shivers, before her courage is bolstered as Fawkes gives a cry and takes flight. She ducks behind a pillar as there’s a rumbling hiss, then a roar, and then another burst of song that kindles within Hallie a feeling of safety.

She peeks out, and sees the head of the Basilisk thrashing side to side with tar-like blood streaming from its eyes.

“Kill the girl.” She hears Tom's command to the Basilisk. “ Forget the bird. Kill the girl! You can still smell her!”

Finally, Hallie pulls on the handle she has in her hand, and a long, silver blade emerges from the sorting hat.

It’s a mediaeval longsword, its handle wrapped in crushed, crimson velvet coiled with a fine golden chain. The pommel is set with a flawless ruby the size of an egg which sparkles in the dim light and casts dapples of crimson across the cold, damp floor, the puddles swim like blood. The blade is thin and sharp, razor-edged and keen. It sings in the air like a flute solo over an orchestra break and on its centre is a name emblazoned in pure gold.

Godric Gryffindor

It weighs almost nothing, Hallie twirls it and can’t help her little grin because it feels so damn correct in her hand. She steps towards Slytherin’s Basilisk with the blade in hand.

Reality crashes onto her shoulders like an iron bar with Hermione’s voice.

What the hell am I doing? I have to be smart about this! She thinks to herself.

But too late, the Basilisk has turned to face her.

It’s great body coils as it hisses, wrapping back on itself like a spring preparing to strike. Its blank eye-sockets yawn wide and dark, its maw opens and the venom within drips onto the wet stone from gleaming white fangs, the front two as long as the glittering silver sword in Hallie’s hands. The ground hisses and smokes under the highly potent toxin, and then the snake lunges.

Hallie’s seeker reflexes take over.

She steps in and forwards, taking the sword’s handle in both hands and driving it upwards, not even feeling the impact or any resistance as the sleek, thin blade enters the roof of the Basilisk’s mouth. There’s a thin shower of thick, gloopy blood as the power of the snake’s strike is used against it, the blade driven into the creature’s head.

Hallie’s adrenaline spikes and then crashes and the pain takes over.

Her arm burns like it’s in the fires of hell, she cranes her head to look and a three-and-a-half-foot long hollow Basilisk fang rests inches into her shoulder. Her veins burn as potent venom scorches them black under her skin. It feels like molten rock, poured into her arm with agonising speed and it bites like the touch of lightning. Every pulse of her heart sends that burning un-fire further into her system as it hijacks her circulatory system to kill her more efficiently.

Hallie sinks to her knees and the fang comes loose.

The Basilisk keels over dead.

Tom Riddle’s laughter echoes like spiteful birdsong.

Hallie’s vision goes dark, like she’s staring at the world through a long tunnel, her numb fingers relinquish their grip on the sword and the crushed velvet rests softly in her palm, blade tip on the floor. She can hear her heartbeat, a dull, thudding one-two rhythm in her head as her vision swims more and more.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you die, Hallie Potter.” Tom Riddle’s smooth, ice-cold voice enters her ears and swims around her head. “It won’t take long, not that I’m in a particular hurry. Even the bird is-.” He stops dead, dimly as her nerves fade away, Hallie is aware of heavy talons coming to rest on her other shoulder. “No! Damn you!” Tom starts to yell, and a blessed relief chases the burning out of Hallie’s veins as fresh phoenix tears sweep through her system. Her veins lose their deep necrosis under her skin, fading from the black of a starless night to their usual vague blue within her arm.

There’s a loud bang! Fawkes startles from Hallie’s shoulder and takes flight as chunks of stone floor fly up, Tom muttering an incantation Hallie has never heard before.

“Die damn you!” He yells, Hallie’s stolen wand in his hand emits a flurry of green light that narrowly misses the swift phoenix in flight.

The shade of Tom Riddle gives a sigh that sounds like a gravel driveway, inhuman in its depth.

“Very well.” He drawls, pointing Hallie’s wand back towards her. “I think it’s even more poetic this way.” He opens his mouth and starts to form the spell. “Ava-.”

In a flash, Fawkes drops the sodden diary near the tip of the sword resting in Hallie’s hand, and in one swift intuitive movement she lifts the blade back into her grasp and stabs.

The effect on the shade is immediate, he emits a piercing scream, one so painful and loud it could shatter glass as he falls to his knees and writhes in agony. The diary spurts ink onto the blade, sliding off the silver metal like silk from a mirror, unable to gain purchase.

And then, all is silence except for the sound of Hallie’s wand clattering to the floor.

Hallie stands shakily, grabs her wand, and rushes to Ginny’s side.

“Ginny!” She drops to her knees by her bonded partner, again uncaring of the scrapes to her skin through her ruined skirt. “Ginny! Ginny please.” She cups Ginny’s face in her hands and begs, silently, in her head.

Ginny, please please please. Come back to me. Please.

With a cough Ginny sits up, knocking their heads together. Hallie reels but Ginny doesn’t seem to notice, throwing her arms around Hallie’s shoulders with a sob.

Hallie! Their connection opens fully. Hallie is that you it was so dark and cold and- the words cease, flowing into a potent emotional cocktail of relief-fear-loathing-rage-shame, all swimming in their shared minds like a flurry of salmon jumping up a waterfall.

Hallie holds her tightly and doesn’t dare let go.

*~*

It’s a bit of a blur, after that, but when Hallie comes back to herself she’s sitting in Dumbledore’s office, bloodied sword in one hand and Ginny’s fingers tightly gripping her other.

“You’ve both been through a great deal.” He says softly, looking over his half-moon glasses. “But to head things off at the pass, I can assure you that neither of you will be expelled, nor will you face any other consequences from this. What you have done, despite being something no children should ever have to do, is nothing short of miraculous, you’ve done this school deeply, deeply proud.”

Ginny shudders and Hallie slips their fingers apart to wrap a comforting arm around her waist.

You’re safe. She whispers in their link.

There’s a loud shout of “GINNY!”

The girl in question flinches, burrowing herself into Hallie’s side, but Mrs. Weasley simply envelops them both in her embrace as she sprints into the room, followed at an only slightly more sedate pace by Mr. Weasley.

“Oh you poor girls.” Soft kisses are placed on the crown of Ginny’s head.

“Mr and Mrs. Weasley.” Dumbledore’s voice is kind and gentle. “I’m very glad to see you both.”

Mr. Weasley reaches the chair and joins the embrace, before pulling back gently and bringing his wife with him.

“Molly.” He whispers. “We need to let them breathe.”

Mrs. Weasley nods in agreement and relaxes her grip, but doesn’t relinquish the contact. Both Hallie and Ginny are grateful.

“I’m sorry.” Ginny murmurs, as the tears start to flow. “I’m sorry Mum.”

“Don’t be.” Both of her parents kneel by the chair and Hallie makes to move away from this family moment, but Mrs. Weasley stops her.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay.” She whispers.

Across from them, Dumbledore stands and makes his way to the door, as Professor McGonagall enters accompanied by Ron and Hermione. Hallie reads her lips as her friends wait patiently and Ginny takes up the lion’s share of her parents' attention.

“Mr Lockheart attempted to flee the grounds when the message was discovered. He was apprehended by Filius, and it appears a memory charm he attempted to cast was reflected.” There’s a nod from Dumbledore. More conversation that Hallie can’t see, before McGonagall speaks again. “Mr. Malfoy is on his way here, on behalf of the Board of Governors.” Another nod from Dumbledore, a smattering of words seem to leave his lips and McGonagall turns back to Ron and Hermione and ushers them to the side before in storms a man with platinum blonde hair, a house elf trailing after him.

I know you. Hallie thinks, looking at the elf in question. She starts to extricate herself from Mrs. Weasley when Dumbledore’s voice cracks sharply and commands attention.

“Lucius! If you mistreat your house-elf again, I will throw you out myself!”

Malfoy gives an affronted sneer, and the interaction becomes fraught, to say the least.

By the end of it, Dobby has been freed, and Dumbledore offers him a place with the Hogwarts elves as Ron, Ginny, and their parents leave the office, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

“Professor!” Hermione’s voice, sharp and angry. “He’s just been freed, you can’t place him into servitude again!”

“I am not, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore holds up his hands. “Please, allow me to explain?”

Hermione folds her arms, but looks willing to hear him out.

“Our curriculum is lacking in the matters of house elves, I shall have to see to that.” He notes, as he sits at his desk. “House elves, Miss Granger, are sentient creatures, you are quite correct. Long ago, they were placed under a despicable piece of magic known as the Elfbind .” Even saying it seems to put a foul taste in Dumbledore’s mouth. “By nature, house elves are helpful and trusting, they take joy in helping others, and those at Hogwarts and employed by most wizarding families today are free to leave whenever they should wish, they are not paid as they have no want or need for salaries, although they are free to take whatever food and clothing they should wish and we provide anything they ask for.” He shakes his head. “Some families, however, retain bloodlines of elves who have not been freed. To these people, they are seen as nothing more than servants, magically bidden to do their master’s every whim and forbidden ever to fight back.” He looks at his desk sadly. “It is one of the great injustices of the wizarding world. They are sentient, magical creatures, who roam the earth freely and help humans from the goodness of their hearts, that they are treated so poorly by some is a circumstance that breaks my heart.”

Hermione looks aghast and Hallie feels similarly.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” She asks.

“It is a constant fight against those in power, who wish to exploit those less fortunate.” Dumbledore says gravely. “But we must still fight for equal rights. To fail to do so merely in the face of minor inconvenience would be unconscionable.”

*~*

After an uneventful month of exams that Hallie doesn't feel so good about, the train back from Hogwarts at the end of the year is a sober affair.

Hallie sits with her head against the window, Ginny’s head on her shoulder as they both stare out at the landscape and Ron and Hermione play chess to pass the time.

I wonder where you’re going to be staying ? Ginny worries in her head.

Professor Dumbledore said he made arrangements. Hallie replies. The only reason I can’t stay with you this time is because of that raffle your Dad won.

To hell with the stupid raffle! Ginny rants. I want you with us! She calms, a touch, when Hallie’s emotions bleed back through and they equalise. I get scared lately, when I don't have you nearby.

I’m never far away. Hallie knocks their heads together gently. I'm always just a thought away.

Ginny’s hum isn’t really one of agreement or argument, and they simply cuddle closer to each other.

*~*

The platform hisses with steam and Hallie looks around as the feeling of Ginny’s last hug fades. Dumbledore’s note had said to wait for a man in a patchwork jacket with brown hair and green eyes. It was irritatingly cryptic, but she hadn’t had an opportunity to press anyone for information. She’s just taken a seat on her trunk when a man matching that exact description emerges from the crowd of people and steam.

“Hallie?” He stops in front of her and holds out a hand. “My name is Remus Lupin.”

Chapter Text

Hallie Potter flips bacon in a pan in one fluid movement.

Why are you awake?

The girl in question laughs aloud as she takes a fresh loaf of bread from the local market and slices it open, turning the bacon in the pan again.

You’re an hour ahead of me Gin, and it’s really not that early.

It’s 7 in the morning!

Hallie laughs again and plates the bacon, sprinkling a touch of salt and pepper onto the bread before cracking some eggs into another pan one-handed just to show off to the girl currently skimming her memories as they form.

I already know you can do that Hallie.

And you like to watch me do it, I can feel it.

Stop reading my mind.

That last thought is accompanied by the mental feeling of Ginny sticking her tongue out and Hallie laughs softly again.

You’re not having good breakfasts in Egypt?

I am, it’s just…

Thoughts and feelings flow freely, Hallie nods in understanding as she sprinkles in pepper and scrambles the eggs.

I miss you too.

Their mental conversation is cut a touch short when a man in a threadbare dressing gown wanders into the kitchen Hallie is occupying and sighs.

“I told you that you didn’t have to do this, Hallie.”

“Sorry Uncle Remus.” Hallie declares, not in the least bit sincere. “But this is the least I can do for you.”

“You don’t need to do anything for me.” Hallie’s Godfather slumps against the kitchen counter heavily. “Your father was the same, you know? For all his faults James would take one look at someone and want to help them.” He laughs, gravelly and weak but undeniably sincere. “Of course, he couldn’t cook to save his life.”

“I had a trial by saucepan.” Hallie quips, she flips some bacon into the bread and passes it off to her Godfather, then goes back to scrambling the eggs.

“Trial by-?” It takes Remus a second and he scowls. “I can’t believe she would do that to you.” He chews and sniffs the air in the direction of the open window. “Is this bread from the market?”

“Couldn’t sleep, went out early.” Hallie shrugs and turns back to the stove, her body language closing.

“What was it?” Remus asks gently.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hallie plates her own food and gets her Godfather his share of scrambled eggs.

“Hallie.” Remus’ voice is stern but kind. “It’s okay to talk about it.”

You should tell him, Hallie.

Stop ganging up on me!

I’m not! Emotions flow through the link, a swirling mix of concern-love-fear-understanding. But he wants to help, and he knows what it’s like to have bad nights.

Hallie gives the mental equivalent of a sigh.

“It was the Chamber again.” She mutters tonelessly. “I can feel the venom burning inside me when I close my eyes and I just-.” She screws her eyes shut and removes her glasses, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets hard enough to make herself see stars.

“Hey.” Remus takes her wrist gently and pulls softly until she relaxes and rests her arms on the table instead. “You’re okay.”

Hallie nods and her left hand comes to rest on her right shoulder, over the patch of smooth, silvery skin that is the only evidence of her fight with a Basilisk.

Miss you. Ginny says again in her head.

Miss you too. Hallie replies, watching as Remus produces his wand from his dressing gown sleeve and flicks it at her glasses.

“You really ought to clean those more.” He tuts. “Your father started wearing glasses in his fourth year and he would always forget.”

“I can see just fine!” Hallie huffs, before she puts her glasses on and blinks. “Oh that wall is white ?”

Remus gives a snort of laughter.

“You have your mother’s intelligence and your father’s wit. Sometimes I worry about that combination.”

I like that combination just fine. Ginny in her head sounds smug and Hallie smiles wide as she digs into her breakfast.

When they’re done, Remus clears the plates away with a flick of his wand and a few basic household charms, and fetches Hallie a parchment and quill before he goes to take another hot shower to ease his aching joints.

Hallie drums her fingers on the table and runs the feather of the quill along her lips instead of writing as she stares at the page.

You do need to get that done, you know. Ginny’s voice in her head again and Hallie just drops the quill, leaning back in her chair.

I don’t even know where to start.

Yes you do. Ginny’s voice is gently cajoling. What’s the title?

I dunno, witch burning in the fourteenth century or something.

So write that down.

Dutifully, Hallie scratches the words at the top of the page.

Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless - Discuss.

Hardest part is the start. Ginny encourages her. Hallie reaches for the book on the kitchen table and starts skimming through it for the chapter she wants when Ginny’s voice stops her again. What are you doing?

Looking for the chapter on the witch-trials? She replies, flipping back and forth.

Don’t do it like that silly. A mental image of a list flickers in Ginny’s mind. Honestly how you can be friends with Hermione and not know what an index is… Go to the back.

Hallie flips the book all the way to the back and follows Ginny’s instructions.

See there, says it’s chapter fourteen. Page a hundred and ninety three.

I still don’t see why I can’t just copy this from Hermione on the train. Hallie huffs.

Because she won’t let you and you’re living with one of our Professors now. Ginny responds smartly. Now get your essay done and I’m going to go and eat breakfast, and I won’t talk to you until you’re finished!

You’re evil. Hallie mutters, but her affection still flows over the link.

She scratches out her essay intermittently, managing to have at least half of her required roll of parchment done by the time Remus exits the shower looking far more like himself.

“How’s that essay going?” He asks, sitting at the table again and making them both a cup of tea. Hallie just grunts in response and he laughs at her. “History of Magic was never my favourite subject either. But I did take it to NEWTs, do you need some help?”

“Yes please, Professor Remus.” Hallie mutters.

“Professor Lupin.” Her Godfather corrects her, smiling. “It’s on the witch-burnings, yes?”

Hallie nods and Remus pulls her History of Magic textbook over to him.

“Let’s see what we can get done then.”

*~*

The next day Hallie wakes up to an insistent tapping on her window. Remus isn’t up yet, and Ginny is in a deep sleep in the back of her mind, so she swings her legs out of bed and pads barefoot over to the window to let in her beloved owl.

Hedwig hops in holding a package and Hallie is quick to untie it from her leg, offering the owl some cold bacon scraps from yesterday which Hedwig gobbles up delightedly, rubbing her beak along Hallie’s finger while she opens the letter with the package on her knees.

Dear Hallie

I never did find out where you’re staying this summer, I hope that you really were able to find somewhere better than the Dursleys. From everything you’ve told me they seem truly awful.

I was afraid I was going to have to give you your present on the train to Hogwarts, but then Hedwig showed up! I assumed you’d let her out to hunt and she came all the way here to make sure you get something for your birthday this year. I found it here in France (we’re on holiday, the wizarding community here is fascinating!) We went and took a tour of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic while they ran their summer Quidditch camp (I didn’t fly, before you ask), and they were selling these! I mentioned you were our seeker on the Gryffindor house team and they even gave me a discount!

On another note, did you see the Prophet? I’ve been having it delivered (it only costs a knut) to try and keep up with the wizarding world over the summer and there are so many fascinating things going on! Although it’s hard to trust everything they say, my Mum often says the British tabloids aren’t known for their class and that extends to the wizarding world as well sadly.

When I wrote to Ron he said that he and his family would be in London for the last few days of the holidays, for all the supplies we need for next year. I don’t know if he wrote to you about it, but do you think you’ll be able to make it there too? I hope whoever you’re staying with has been okay.

All my love

Hermione.

P.S. Ron said Percy made Head Boy. He must be thrilled! Do you think he would give me any tips on how I can work better to be Head Girl?

Hallie skims the note a few times, a fond smile playing at her lips. Trust Hermione to go on tour of a school while on her summer holidays. In the back of her mind Ginny’s dreams shift to thoughts of Quidditch and flying as Hallie’s thoughts bleed over and she can’t help but smile. She puts the note down and opens the paper, sifting through what turns out to be a full broomstick repair kit, there’s a pair of tail-twig clippers, handle polish, a compass for long journeys, and a guide to read.

In Ginny’s dreams, the imaginary Quidditch match she’s flying in skips in the way that only a dream can, Ginny in the lead role as she fakes out a faceless keeper with blue hair before kicking her broom into a hitch and slingshotting herself up and over the central hoop to score a goal.

Ginny! Ginny! Ginny! Hallie imagines herself cheering the redhead’s name from the other side of the pitch to hopefully inject some more fun into the dream and turns back to her desk.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to get back to sleep, so she grabs a scrap of parchment and starts to reply to Hermione.

Dear Hermione

Sorry my writing is so messy, I’m a little tired, although yours is always so neat it’s hard to match.

Thank you so much for the present! I hope I’ll get a lot of use out of it this year! Quidditch getting cancelled last year means everyone will be hungry for the championship, and this is Oliver’s last year! Gryffindor will have to work hard to keep the cup for him. He wants to go professional after he leaves school and having led us to two championships would be a huge badge of honour for him.

I haven’t seen the Prophet, although from what I’ve seen of it in the past I agree it’s really not classy! I might send Hedwig out for a copy after she’s had a rest, I am a little interested.

As for who I’m staying with, Professor Dumbledore managed to get in contact with an old friend of my parents (he’s actually my Godfather)! He wasn’t able to take care of me when I was young for a few reasons, but now that I'm older he was more than happy to take me in for the summer. His name is Remus Lupin, he’s going to be our Defense Professor this year in fact! I know you’re probably jealous that I’ve spent all summer with a Professor, and he knows lots of interesting stuff, but he’s been really driving me about homework. I don’t know how you do it, my mind always just wanders if I don’t have something to really focus on. Practical tests are fun but writing just… isn’t.

I’ve not heard from Ron but I’ve been talking a lot to Ginny (you know how Ron is about writing, much as he's our best friend). I’m going to ask Remus if we can head to London for the last few days, but currently we’re in York, Remus owns a flat here. It’s small but it’s really nice and homely. There’s a farmer’s market outside which I’ve been going to to get ingredients on the mornings that they’re up.

Remus has told me a lot about my parents. He went to Hogwarts with them, and he and my Dad were best friends. It’s been really nice to hear about them so much. All I had before was that photo album that Hagrid gave me at the end of first year.

I’d always heard so much around them, how I had my Mum’s eyes and my Dad’s hair, but nobody ever told me about them until Remus.

I think I can hear the market setting up, there’s a dog growling out there. So I’ll wrap this letter up.

Love

Hallie

P.S. Apparently my name is a compromise from my parents between Harriet and Harper, I think I like Hallie more than either of them though.

With that done, Hallie leaves it on the small desk Remus had given her for the ink to dry and strokes Hedwig’s neck.

“Do you feel up for a short flight to get a copy of the Daily Prophet before a few hours rest to fly this back to Hermione?” She asks. Hedwig nods and Hallie grabs a knut from her trunk, places it in a tiny pouch that she ties carefully to her owl’s leg, and lifts Hedwig to the window.

Her owl glides away into the early morning dimness and Hallie takes a deep breath of the fresh air, then throws on a muggle hoodie and some jeans to run down to the market for some more food for breakfast.

She pauses as she gets into the main area of the flat, still barefoot and messy-haired. The clock on the wall shows it as half five in the morning, much earlier than she thought it was. She walks to the window and looks out, seeing no sign of the market and no sign of the dog she’d heard growling loudly-.

She freezes and whips her head to the side as she sees something lurking behind the dim streetlight on the other side of the road.

A huge black dog stands there, it’s fur shaggy and unkempt. It looks monstrous in the dim flickering lights of the street, standing there staring uncannily at the window Hallie is standing in, her form silhouetted by the lights. The dog puts a paw to its muzzle, looking directly at her, and despite the odd pose Hallie gets the distinct impression that it’s seen her and is saying ‘just between us’ in a conspiratorial tone.

Something nags at the back of Hallie’s mind. She goes and knocks on Remus’ door.

“Remus!” She hisses, opening the door to see him sitting up and yawning. “Uncle Moony!”

“Hallie?” Remus is a mess in his sheets and tartan pyjamas, his voice sleep-slurred and gravelly. “What on Earth is the time?”

“What was it you told me the other day?” She hisses, eyes locked back on the window. “About my Dad and my Uncle’s Sirius and Peter?”

“They became animagi?” Remus rubs his eyes, sitting up. “What’s the matter Hallie?”

“Uncle Sirius was a big black dog before he went missing right?” She whispers urgently.

“Yes?” Remus finally sits up and swings his legs out of bed. “What’s going on here?”

“There’s a huge black dog across the road.” Hallie runs back to the window and sure enough the dog is still here, it seems to see her in the window and gives a single bark, getting up and trotting towards their door. “And it’s not acting normally.”

Quicker than she would be able to think as an ageing werewolf, Remus is out of bed with his wand drawn, hurrying downstairs and shouting at her to keep watching the dog. She hears the front door open and then Remus’ voice saying a complex incantation.

There’s a growl that turns into a cough, and Hallie waits with bated breath when she hears the door slam. Then her Uncle Remus leads a tall, shaggy-looking man in tattered rags up to the flat at wand point.

“Hallie Potter.” He says. “Meet Sirius Black. Your other Godfather and the man that killed your parents.”

Hallie’s jaw drops open, as does Sirius’.

“Killed my parents?” Hallie recovers first. “What do you mean? You told me they were best friends!” Her voice gains a hysterical edge, her Uncle Remus forces Sirius into a chair and sits down himself, looking suddenly old and oh-so-tired.

“I wanted to preserve the lie.” He whispered. “I’m sorry, Hallie. I should have told you. But I didn’t want to spoil the illusion. We were best friends, all of us. The Marauders of Hogwarts. Sirius and your father in particular were inseparable. Sirius here ran away from his pureblood supremacist family when he was sixteen. James and his parents took him in. Fed him, cared for him, treated him like another son.” Remus’ wand is shaking with rage as his voice builds to a shout. “AND YOU BETRAYED HIM!” He roars.

“I AM INNOCENT!” Sirius yells back. Tears stream down his face. “THAT’S ALL THAT’S KEPT ME SANE!” He collapses back into the chair as the fight goes out of him again.

“You killed twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew.” Remus looks tired and in pain. “Peter is dead , Sirius. I ought to kill you right here.”

“He is alive!” Sirius hisses. “The photo in the prophet! He’s on the Weasley boy’s shoulder! Don’t tell me you didn’t recognise that traitorous bastard!”

“I don’t get the prophet.” Remus says evenly. “And I-.”

“I ordered one!” Hallie pipes up. “Hermione told me Ron was in the paper,” Remus looks at her sharply, “I- I sent Hedwig out to get a c- copy.” She finishes awkwardly.

“Well then.” Sirius says. His voice tinged with hope and interminable smugness. “Let’s see if you recognise the rat , Remus.”

It’s a fraught twenty minutes of waiting. But when Hedwig comes back with a newspaper tied to her leg and swoops in through Hallie’s still-open window, she passes the paper to her Uncle Remus after finding the picture.

“I’ll be damned.” Remus’ grip on his wand goes lax as he takes in the Rat on Ronald Weasley’s shoulder. He looks askance at Sirius. “Explain.” He orders.

It takes a very long time, Hallie and Remus both sit enraptured as Sirius spins the tale of his capture and lack of trial, of the Potter’s decision to switch secret keeper, and how he escaped Azkaban.

“It wasn’t a happy thought.” He says. “My innocence, that is. They couldn’t take it away from me, it was more of an obsession. That moment has replayed in my mind every minute for the last twelve years.”

Unbidden, Hallie launches herself at him and wraps him in a hug. The memories of her nightmare in the Chamber scrolling through her mind as she grasps for words and finds something simple that she hopes is meaningful.

“Welcome home Uncle Sirius.”

Judging by the way the man grips her with a choked sob, she figures she probably got it right.

*~*

After between buying eggs, sausages, bacon, and a few other ingredients at the actually-erected farmer’s market out in front of Remus’ little flat and while she’s scrambling more eggs, Hallie feels Ginny wake up in the back of her head.

Very good morning, my favourite Weasley. She says as Ginny comes to wakefulness. Have I got a story to tell you!

Ginny takes a trip through her memories of the morning while Hallie drizzles a pan in olive oil and starts to fry up some bacon, shooting a glare at Sirius when he tries to help.

“It’s not fair that you’re the only one cooking.” He tries.

“If you want extra bacon, Uncle, you will have it.” Hallie goes for a joke and flips the bacon in the pan with a cheap pair of tongs. “Just let me, please. It’s relaxing.”

“She has James’ spirit for helping, Sirius!” Remus calls from across the room.

“Oh to a fault then!” Sirius seems to lose ten years as he laughs weakly, but his eyes dance with humour, he wolfs down a strip of bacon he’d evidently managed to steal from the plate when Hallie was distracted. “At least his daughter can cook!”

“Was that what my Dad was like?” She asks. “Always helpful?”

“Not in our younger years.” Sirius answers, the tall man lounges on the counter next to her. “I think things got to his head when he was younger. We were at our worst in about our fifth year. Remus I think has told you that we were a legendary group.” He smirks, but it’s tinged with sadness. “We always loved to prank everyone, especially the stuck-up Slytherins like my brother Regulus or Snivilius-” Remus coughs and Sirius corrects himself, “-sorry, Severus Snape.”

“I don’t blame you for him.” Hallie laughs. “He’s such an awful potions teacher.”

“Hates you, does he?” Sirius smirks. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He goes to say more, but stops himself.

“We put Professor Snape through a lot.” Remus says, shooting Sirius a dark look. “James had to save his life once, when Sirius went too far.”

“On that note.” Sirius sobers up. “Remus mentioned he didn’t want to shatter the illusion. But it’s a bit late for that now.” He sits loosely. “Your father and I were arrogant little berks sometimes, Hallie. Some of what we did was inexcusable. I know Remus has mostly been telling you the happy stories, all the pranks and the hijinks. But much as I want you to follow in our footsteps, don’t ever forget.” He looks at her seriously, eyes boring into hers. “Hurting people should be a last resort, don’t make the mistakes we did.”

Hallie nods, seriously, and then the moment breaks as she tries to rescue the bacon from burning.

*~*

Hallie! Ginny’s voice in her head interrupts a nice bite of her sandwich and Hallie chokes, coughing as Remus pats her gently on the back. You need to see the Prophet this morning!

I already sent Hedwig with Hermione’s letter. Hallie replies, concerned. What’s happened?

Sirius’ breakout made the news! Ginny sounds worried and it starts to bleed through to Hallie, who fights to stop their panic from forming a feedback loop.

“Sirius.” She says, voice hoarse from swallowing a slightly-too-large bite of bacon sandwich. Her Godfather’s look at her with concern. “I think your breakout has made the news.”

“How do you know?” He asks her.

“I kind of just do .” She takes a drink to soothe her throat. “I think it’s all over the front page of the Prophet.”

“Are you a seer of some sort?” Sirius’ voice is laced with confusion, sarcasm, and a small touch of worry.

“Regardless of whether you’re right.” Remus heads the discussion off. “I should contact Professor Dumbledore, he might be able to start us on the path to getting you exonerated.” He turns to Hallie. “Ron always brings his pet rat to Hogwarts, yes?”

“Yeah that’s right.” Hallie nods. “He calls him Scabbers.”

“Then Hogwarts is a perfect place to trap the rat.” Remus declares. He stands and swirls his wand.

A bright silver wolf made of mirrored smoke appears with a wash of something that feels like a phoenix song made of starlight over Hallie’s skin before it bounds off.

“What was that?” She asks, breathless.

“My Patronus?” Remus asks.

“Patronus?” Hallie parrots. “What’s that?

“The Patronus is an advanced form of magic used to defend against creatures like Lethifolds and Dementors.” Her Uncle answers, slipping effortlessly into a very ‘teacherly’ form of voice. “They work by taking your happiest memories and condensing them into a magical form, to counteract the effects of the kind of dark creatures that aim to kill you by stealing your happiness away. However, as they work by condensing a part of yourself into magic, they can also be used to send short messages.”

“Sirius mentioned Dementors before.” Hallie mutters, looking at her pale, scraggly-looking Godfather. “What are they?”

“Something I hope you never have to encounter.” Sirius mutters darkly.

“Currently, they’re known as the guards of Azkaban.” Remus fills in. “They are, and I do not say this lightly, the foulest creatures to walk this Earth. They aren’t born or made, they grow. In places with a high enough concentration of negative emotions. When a Dementor catches you, Hallie, they suck out your soul. All your happiness, all your positive emotions, anything and everything you’ve ever loved in all your life. They make you relive your darkest fears.” He looks at Sirius, worry etched into his face. “Most people who get sent to Azkaban go insane within weeks. Everything happy they’ve ever known is stripped from them while they’re forced to face their own demons for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s why you said it was an obsession and not a happy thought.” Hallie looks at Sirius.

Sirius is nodding when a handsome tawny owl swoops through Hallie’s still-open window bearing a letter with a Hogwarts crest.

“I was wondering when that would show up.” Remus sets his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “No offence, Padfoot. But you smell like a tip. Go and take a shower, I’ll go through Hallie’s booklist with her.”

Sirius accepts the change in subject gracefully and Remus waits until he’s gone into the bathroom to perform a quick Scourgify on the chair he was sitting at. Hallie giggles at the sight as Ginny in the back of her head reminds her to shut the window. She gets up and does just that after seeing the Hogwarts owl safely off, then returns to the kitchen and cracks open the envelope to find a note from her head of house and her book list, as well as a Hogsmeade permission slip.

“Uncle Remus?” She asks excitedly, before her expression becomes downcast at his expression.

“I can’t.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry Hallie, I would if I could, but not only is your legal guardian -on paper- still your Uncle Vernon, I’m going to be your Professor for the coming year. It wouldn’t be proper for me to sign it.”

“But couldn’t you just-?”

“No, Hallie, I’m sorry.” He sighs. “Cheer up, my dear Goddaughter. At risk of making you follow in your father’s footsteps, there are a great many unofficial ways out of the castle.”

With that subject -tentatively- sorted, Hallie turns to her book list.

“Not as much to get from Diagon Alley this year.” She notes, skimming down the list. “Last year we had to buy all of Lockheart’s books!”

“Good lord.” Remus mutters. “Must have been expensive.”

“And heavy.” Hallie laughs. “Oh! But speaking of this.” She waves her booklist. “Hermione and the Weasleys are going to be in Diagon Alley for the last few days of the summer holidays. I was going to ask if we could make sure to visit them, but now that Sirius is here, I could go alone? He needs someone to take care of him, and I’m sure I have enough in my vault to take a room at the Leaky Cauldron for a little while.”

*~*

A few days later, as the final few days of the holidays approaches, Remus helps Hallie pack enough for a few days in Diagon Alley.

“Don’t bother about taking your broom and such Hallie, I’ll be meeting you on the train, and it’s much easier for me to transport your things.”

“Okay.” Hallie packs up a few sets of clothes, picking at her robes from last year thoughtfully. “I think I need new uniforms.”

“You very much hit a growth spurt over the summer.” Remus agrees.

Would these fit you, Gin? Hallie asks in her head.

Well you bought them when we were about the same height. I think they would. 

Do you want them then?

Hallie feels the other girl considering. She remembers the mirror or Erised from her first year, Ginny wearing her Weasley Christmas jumper, and that memory seems to spark Ginny into an immediate agreement.

Down girl. Hallie thinks to her. We agreed to wait for your third year, not mine.

She can feel Ginny’s blush and it makes her give a victorious little smirk.

“Hallie?” Remus’ voice brings her back to herself and she starts.

“Sorry Uncle Remus, I was just thinking these might fit Ginny, I’ll ask her if she’d like them when I see her at the Alley.” She haphazardly folds away one robe with a torn shoulder and hem. “Apart from that one, they’re all in pretty good nick.”

Keep that robe. Ginny says with a note of something vicious in her voice. It makes a good trophy.

A little taken aback but more than willing, Hallie tucks that robe into the bottom of her trunk.

Gin? She asks, cautiously.

What? Ginny snaps at her. Hallie flinches just a bit and lets affection flow across their bond.

Do you want to talk about it? She feels Ginny start to calm as the burst of anger dissipates and continues to try and push her comfort across their link.

Later. Ginny says eventually. Tonight.

She doesn’t hear from Ginny until she’s settled in room eleven of the Leaky Cauldron and the moon is bright in the sky.

Hallie?

Hey Gin. Hallie sits cross-legged on her bed dressed only in Pyjama bottoms and a slightly oversized tank top to deal with the summer heat. She doesn't push. She’s been able to feel Ginny’s thoughts all day, feel her collecting herself, ready to broach the topic.

I’m sorry for snapping at you.

I know you didn’t mean it.

There’s silence for a little while, Hallie stretches her back, lays down. She wishes she could fly right now, flying always sets her mind at ease.

I’ve just been so angry lately. Ginny says, after a second. At Tom, at myself. I feel so stupid for getting tricked. I put you in danger, I put myself in danger. It was so, so STUPID to talk to a magical diary when I have-

-have me? Hallie hums softly. It’s okay to need people other than me, Gin. You need an outlet other than the girl in your head. 

I just feel like I can talk to you about everything; except for you yourself.

Hallie lets loose a puff of laughter in her comfortable bed.

That makes sense. She says. But I promise you can always talk to me, I’m in your head and you’re in mine.

Yeah. Ginny sounds better just for having gotten things off her chest. Did you notice by the way? That Professor Dumbledore didn’t tell us what the bond meant?

What do you mean? Hallie gives the mental equivalent to a sensation of cocking her head.

He told us about a few of the types, that these bonds are rare… but well think about it.

Think about what?

Wouldn’t it be so, so awkward if we dated other people than each other?

*~*

Hallie Potter wakes up the next morning with a smile on her face as she falls out of a dream where she and Ginny had happily chased each other through a forest slalom on brooms.

It had been such fun, so competitive, breathtakingly exhilarating.

We should do that for real some time. Ginny’s voice in her head startles Hallie somewhat.

Good morning. She greets. Someone’s awake early?

I got forcefully woken up a few minutes ago. Ginny grumbles. We’re heading back today, so I guess we’ll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron in a few hours.

See you soon!

To occupy her time, Hallie gets showered, dressed, and goes out to explore the alley as she did with Remus the day before.

She gets ice-cream, which Florean Fortescue himself insists on giving her a discount on no matter how much she protests, she gets her book shopping out of the way, happy not to need a Monster Book of Monsters . As ‘interesting’ as the course had looked to her, her Uncle Remus had talked her into taking Ancient Runes along with Divination and eventually she had agreed after he’d pointed out that it opened up a career as a curse-breaker, which she had heard from Ginny was seriously cool after watching her brother Bill do some work in Egypt.

She delivers her books back to her room and then wanders out again to do a bit of window shopping.

Then she ends up glued to the window in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

THE FIREBOLT - PRICE ON REQUEST

The sign displays it proudly. The Firebolt, the latest and greatest broom in the world.

Hey Gin. She gets her bonded’s attention as people next to her talk about how the Irish national team have placed orders for seven. Check this out.

Wow… Ginny’s mental voice drips with reverence. You’re rich, right Hallie? I’ve seen your vault in your head…

I don’t know if I’m ‘price on request’ level rich. Hallie murmurs back. Also I have a perfectly good pretty-much-top-of-the-line broom.

“Why not request it and see?” Says a quiet and familiar voice next to her ear.

Hallie spins and sees Ginny standing right next to her.

“You’re back!” She draws Ginny into a tight hug and savours the feeling of the first contact the two of them have had since they’d parted at the station at the beginning of the summer.

“Just got in.” Ginny smiles at her as they part. “Everyone else is at the Leaky Cauldron, except Ron and Hermione who I left getting ice cream.” She draws Hallie back into a hug, the two of them mostly swamped by the small crowd gazing at the broom in the window.

Wanted to be the first to see you.

Neither of them really acknowledge the butterflies that sentence kindle within them, but they’re definitely there.

The final couple of days turn into a blur (although Hallie finds a way to sneak out to Quality Quidditch Supplies one last time without anyone with her), and before they know it, all of them are on the train back to Hogwarts, a lecture on ‘dangerous criminal Sirius Black’ from Mr Weasley still ringing in Hallie’s ears.

*~*

The four of them stumble into a cabin where a lumpy form is huddled under a threadbare jacket and apparently fast asleep.

“Who’s that?” Ron whispers, as all them stop moving in a bid not to wake up the man.

“Professor R. J. Lupin.” Hermione whispers quietly, at the same time that Hallie says. “Oh, that’s my Uncle Remus.”

Ron turns to her with shock and Hermione looks mildly put out with herself for not putting two and two together before she had opened her mouth.

“Of course!” She whispers harshly. “You even mentioned him in your letter!”

Hallie takes a seat quietly and pulls Ginny gently down with her.

“I don’t think he’s had much sleep lately.” She whispers as Ginny’s shoulder comes to rest against hers automatically. “We sort of adopted a new dog just before I left.”

She might be imagining it, but Hallie swears she hears the softest hitch of breath that is her Uncle trying and almost failing to hold in his laughter.

Hermione is fiddling with the straps on her new kneazle-crosses case as she settles down and Ron bats at her hands ineffectually.

“Stop it!” He hisses. That thing will go after Scabbers again, not to mention that it might wake him up!” He gestures to the still form of Lupin as he speaks, Hermione scoffs.

“Crookshanks wouldn’t do that!” She declares, still moderating her volume to be considerate. She unhooks the straps and the ginger kneazle-cross hops onto the table and looks at Ron with a glare before he starts to lick his paw.

A conspicuous rat-shaped lump in Ron’s pocket twitches and Hallie feels sick.

The man who killed her parents is right there . His exposure could set Sirius free! She grits her teeth and feels Ginny’s hand slide into her own under the table.

It’ll happen. Ginny whispers in her head. I can feel what you’re feeling, I promise it’ll work out.

I just-... Hallie closes her eyes and counts to ten. You’re right. I know you’re right. I hope Uncle Remus is okay, I can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now, if he’s awake.

Malfoy comes by, spouting petty insults as ever but not fool enough to pick a fight directly in front of a teacher. Hallie shakes her head when the others suggest waking her Uncle for some food.

“I think he really needs his rest.” She whispers quietly.

Outside, rain grows thick with speed and the sky darkens. Ron looks out of the window with a frown.

“We must be nearly there for this much rain, and how late it’s gotten.”

“It’s far too early for that.” Hermione checks her watch. “We’ve only been on the go for a few hours.”

There’s a sudden screeching that has all of them covering their ears. Then the lights flicker out and die all at once.

“What bloody hell?” Ron’s voice is loud in the deathly stillness and Hermione hisses in pain as he accidentally stands on her foot when he tries to stand up. “Oh- sorry, ‘Mione.”

Hallie knows exactly where Ginny is in the dark, so she doesn’t make the same mistake when she stands up to shake her Uncle awake.

“Uncle Remus?” She grips his shoulder firmly and shakes gently until she feels him come to wakefulness.

He stands and Hallie returns to her spot next to Ginny before the cabin is bathed in crackling flame cupped in the palm of her Uncle’s hand.

“Stay here, all of you.” His somewhat hoarse voice is a blessed relief to Hallie’s ears.

The door slides open, seemingly of its own volition, until Hallie realises that there’s a figure in a cloak the colour of a starless night in the doorway.

A dark, skeletal hand wrapped in fragments of decayed flesh lingers in the light of the flames still cupped in their new Defense teacher’s hand for a second. To Hallie it looks like something dead that had decayed in water, bloated and wretched…

Ginny’s swims in her mind, her pale, deathly-still face in a water-logged chamber. The burning heat of Basilisk venom chases through her veins as Tom Riddle’s laughter echoes like cruel, mocking songbirds off the walls of the flooded stone catacombs, someone screams, loud and piercing, begging and pleading in a distressed, desperate voice. A white fog invades her senses and then-.

Then she’s being shaken gently awake, Ginny practically in her lap, shaking like a leaf.

Gin? She asks in her head, absent-mindedly accepting a large-ish chunk of chocolate from her Uncle.

Hallie! Ginny’s arms are thrown around her shoulders. I felt- I felt- I felt you go, I felt the bond shut down and I was all alone and I thought Tom had me again it was just like last time and-

-I’m here. Hallie comforts her, over and over. I’m here I promise, I’m here.

“Eat up, girls.” Her Uncle advises softly. “Consider it payment for all of those wonderful breakfasts, Hallie.”

Hallie breaks the chunk of chocolate in half somewhat awkwardly with her numb fingers and feeds one to Ginny; whose arms are still locked around her shoulders, then takes a bite herself. To her surprise she feels warmth spread to her frozen extremities.

“Who was screaming?” She asks, voice hoarse.

“Nobody was.” Her Uncle says, softly. “That was a Dementor of Azkaban.”

In a flash Hallie remembers the conversation just over a week ago over breakfast.

“All of my worst-.”

“Yes.” Remus cuts her off and steps outside, wand still drawn. “Stay safe, all of you, I need to go and speak with the driver.

*~*

Hallie, Ginny and Hermione end up missing the sorting when they’re pulled away. Hallie and Ginny for attention by Madam Pomfrey, Hermione for a mystery word with Professor McGonagall about her timetable.

I think we missed almost everything. Ginny says in her head as they enter the hall and sit down next to Ron.

Yeah. At least we didn’t miss the food? Hallie snickers very softly at Ginny’s affronted gasp that she is not her brother.

“-Professor Kettleburn has retired-” is the snatch of Dumbledore’s speech she hears between their conversations.

Maybe he wanted to stop while he still has two and a half limbs? She smirks. Ginny holds back her laughter at that comment until Dumbledore announces that the class will now be taught by Hagrid.

The hall erupts in applause.

I kind of regret not taking Care now. Hallie laments as the applause dies away, Ginny hooks their fingers together under the table.

It’s not like you can’t go down and see him, I’ll come with you! Something to do while the others are in Hogsmeade?

That sounds nice, actually. Hallie takes Ginny’s hand fully, maybe this won’t be so bad.

When Dumbledore explains that Dementors see very easily through invisibility cloaks, Hallie can’t help but duck her head, slightly embarrassed.

With all of that and the feast done, everyone heads up to their dorms.

*~*

When the first Hogsmeade weekend rolls around, Hallie bids her friends goodbye and heads off down to Hagrid’s hut with Ginny.

Do you want to talk about the Boggart? Ginny asks as they walk.

What about it? Hallie takes her hand without thinking about it.

Was it weird that your Uncle pushed you out of the way? Ginny asks. Hallie thinks about it for a second.

Not really, although I probably should ask him about that. You guys didn’t do it, right?

No, we did pixies. Ginny says, Hallie laughs at her memory of Lockheart’s worthless lesson on the creatures.

Best be careful there Gin, they’re tricksy.

I managed just fine; thank you very much Hallie!

Be mindful of the tricksy pixies Gin!

Don’t you dare start rhyming, Hallie Potter.

Hallie knocks on Hagrid’s door and the gentle giant answers with a happy face, excitedly leading them out to the area he’d been using to teach.

“I know yer didn’ take my class.” He says. “An’ don’t you dare feel bad about tha’, but I wanted to show yeh this anyway.”

He leads them to a grove where a creature that he explains is a Hippogriff named Buckbeak waits carefully.

“Now yeh have to be careful.” He cautions them. “Take a step, wait fer him t’ acknowledge you.”

Hallie takes a step, still hand in hand with Ginny, and both of them wait for Buckbeak to eye them curiously.

“Now yeh bow.” Hagrid instructs. “Nice an’ deep. Proud creatures Hippogriffs, they deserve respec’”

Both of them bow, Ginny -glad she’d worn jeans- sinks to one knee in the mud and Hallie -who very much had not worn trousers today- gives her best and most respectful curtsy.

“Tha’s good.” Hagrid says softly. “Now just you wait a moment there. Hippogriffs don’t trust yeh if yeh blink too much, so best t’ keep yer eyes down all respectful like.”

Hallie keeps her head bowed, and then slowly raises her neck when Hagrid gives her a little affirmative pat on the shoulder.

Buckbeak approaches them with a deeply regal bearing and bows low on a front talon.

“Go ahead an’ pet ‘is beak.” Hagrid instructs gently. “Nice an’ gentle now.”

Hallie reaches out, but Buckbeak turns to the side and spreads his wings, one knee in the mud.

“I’ll be!” Hagrid sounds chuffed to bits. “I think ‘e wants teh give you two a ride! Up you hop now, nice an’ gentle, careful wih ‘is feathers.”

Both of them climb gently onto the Hippogriff, and then Buckbeak launches himself into the air.

Ginny’s arms lock themselves around Hallie’s waist tightly and she swears she feels her ribs creak before they relax as powerful wings lift them up above the treetops.

Merlin… Ginny’s voice in her head is exhilarated. This is fun!

Buckbeak flaps his wings powerfully and as they climb higher Hallie can only agree. She focuses on just enjoying the flight, on the feeling of Ginny’s arms around her waist, the feeling of the cold air streaming past her face as Buckbeak underneath them lets out a little cry and accelerates towards the school.

The rooftops go by underneath them, dark slate blurring into a single sheet as they fly. Hallie spreads her arms wide from their position holding Buckbeak’s neck, she squeezes her thighs tight and sits up straight to shield Ginny from the wind and can’t help her smile. When they bank sharply and Ginny squeezes tightly for a second, Hallie can feel her laughing against her back and in the bond.

They sweep around and over the field where first years get their flying lessons, passing by the window of the Transfiguration classroom and the stern silhouette sitting in the window with a thrill that echoes between their minds before Buckbeak banks hard towards the hut again.

They level out and Hallie relaxes from her high, straight-backed posture, leaning backwards as Ginny’s cheek comes to rest on her shoulder.

Talking with you and flying at the same time. She thinks, happiness clouding her mind like a daze. Heaven.

Wait until I get on the Quidditch team. Ginny smiles and Hallie can feel the ghost of it in her lips with how in tune they are right now. That’s going to feel unbeatable.

We’re going to be unbeatable. Hallie smirks. Potter and Weasley make a killer combo.

Hallie notices the ground coming and leans forwards to grip Buckbeak’s neck firmly, taking Ginny with her as they land with a bump and Buckbeak canters to a stop.

“There now.” Hagrid feeds the Hippogriff a ferret in one mouthful and Ginny grimaces. “Tha’ went well!” He helps both girls down and gives Buckbeak a pat down with a soft-looking brush. “I though’ yeh’d like that.” Hagrid looks as proud as Hallie feels happy, a dark weight she hadn’t realised was there having lifted from her shoulders.

“That was amazing! ” Ginny speaks up and stretches out her hand towards Buckbeak, who happily butts into it. Her other hand finds Hallie’s seemingly of its own accord. “Thank you.” She says quietly, leaning closer to Buckbeak.

Hallie’s free hand also comes up to pet the Hippogriff, giving gentle strokes down his steel-like beak.

“I’m glad he took to yeh so well!” Hagrid brushes a wing with care born of his extreme knowledge. “Almost had a spot o’ trouble in class.”

“What happened?” Hallie gives a little scritch where the beak meets fur and Buckbeak makes a noise like an eagle trying to purr.

“A few o’ the Slytherin students didn’ want teh listen.” Hagrid shakes his head. “Had to ‘ave ‘em back off right quick, Beaky here near gutted tha’ Malfoy boy.”

“Shame he missed.” Ginny deadpans. Hallie snickers.

“Now!” Hagrid rebukes her softly. “I know he’s not th’ mos’... easy o’ individuals-.”

“He calls Hermione a mudblood.” Hallie mutters. Buckbeak pushes his beak into her hand and she realises she’s stopped stroking him, so she starts again.

“An’ tha’s not on!” Hagrid says emphatically. “But yeh can’t be wishin’ ill of him like tha’, especially not wi’ poor Beaky. If he hur’ the boy, there’s no tellin’ what might’a happen’d.”

“What would happen?” Ginny pets Buckbeak's wing joint very carefully and fixes a few ruffled feathers when the Hippogriff seems fine with it.

“Boy like tha’...” Hagrid mutters, wringing his hands. He reaches over and very carefully directs Ginny’s fingers on the best way to help care for Buckbeak’s wing joint. “Well ‘is father migh’ cause a fuss, these can be dangerous animals, if yeh don’ respect ‘em. There’s some in the min’stry think they ought be put down.” He walks around Buckbeak, taking care to pass in front of the Hippogriff’s vision, and shows them both how to check Buckbeak’s big primary feathers with large, delicate fingers.

“Could they do that?” Hallie runs her fingers along Buckbeak’s beak again, it feels like silk-smooth tool-steel.

“Aye.” Hagrid nods. “Best not teh give them kinds o’ people a reason.” He takes the brush up again and starts to brush down Buckbeak’s flank.

Ginny sticks close to Hallie as the two of them walk back up from Hagrid’s hut.

Your knee is all muddy. Hallie points to the knee Ginny has knelt on to bow. Although I think you were right about wearing trousers.

I don’t know any cleaning charms. Ginny’s lips twist. Guess I’m walking around with a muddy knee.

I saw Uncle Remus do one a few times. Hallie pulls them to a stop and produces her wand from her sleeve, moving it in an ‘S’ shape that ends with it pointed at Ginny’s muddy knee.

“Scourgify!” She declares confidently.

The mud mostly disappears, along with a section of the blue denim becoming white and slightly threadbare.

“Hm.” Ginny ponders aloud, examining her knee.

“Might have made it a little powerful.” Hallie laughs.

But it worked?

It worked. Ginny pulls her along and they start walking again.

Come on, didn’t you want to speak to your Uncle?

*~*

“Hello Hallie.” Her Uncle Remus greets her warmly. “And Ginny, lovely to see you too.” He takes a sip of tea. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He welcomes them into his office, holding a mug in both hands.

“Forgive my lack of energy.” He says, sitting heavily on his desk. “I’m a little under the weather.”

“It’s close to the full moon, right Professor?” Ginny says without thinking.

Remus pins Hallie with a furious glare.

“You told her?!” He growls.

“No!” Hallie shrinks back, Remus has never been angry with her directly. “No Uncle I promise, she just knows .”

“How does she know then?” Remus narrows his eyes.

“We have a- a bon-a bond.” Her stutter appears under stress and Ginny takes over for her.

“We’re soul bonded, Professor. We found out last year, we wanted to tell you a few times over the summer but it’s… hard to talk about.”

Remus’ eyes narrow until something seems to click in his head.

“That’s how you knew Padfoot’s stunt had made the news.” he laughs a little. “That’s been nagging at my mind for a month.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Well I can’t really blame you for that, can I?” He takes another drink and stands, hunched over his tea. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. When it comes to things that are hard to talk about, I have experience.” He takes another sip of his steaming hot drink. “So. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Apart from scaring an old man half to death, of course.”

“Sorry.” Ginny mutters.

“You’re fine.” Remus reassures her. “I’ll have to keep it in mind in the future that anything Hallie knows you know too.” A mischievous look steals over his face for a second. “Padfoot not knowing will make this a lot of fun.”

“Speaking of Padfoot.” Hallie finds her voice again. “What’s happening?”

“Ah, I thought you might ask that. Alas,” Remus takes another drink of his tea, “things will be slow. Some legal things need to be in place before the big evidence is presented. I’m afraid all that will happen if we show up with a convict and a man thought dead is that they’ll both be thrown away, and that isn’t what anyone wants.”

Something in the back of the room makes a thumping sound against glass and Hallie jumps.

“That’s just the Grindylow.” Remus chuckles. He swipes his wand and a curtain draws back to reveal a tank of murky water with an angry-looking creature in it. “Fresh from the lake.” He points out of his window and in the direction of the massive body of water that dominates the view. “Courtesy of the Merpeople who live there, it’s for your next lesson, Hallie.” He yawns and it seems to cause him a degree of discomfort before he speaks again. “Note the thin fingers, the trick is to break the grip.”

The door opens and Professor Snape glides in as a bundle of dark robes, greasy hair, and pale, hooked features, stopping short when he notices the students, a goblet smoking with heady, cobalt vapour in his hands.

“I was not aware you had issued detentions.” He mutters, in his characteristic delivery.

“No detentions.” Remus smiles tiredly. “My niece was merely checking up on me.” He accepts the goblet after setting his tea down. “Do you need to keep this, Severus?” When Snape nods Remus knocks it back in one go, grimacing. “I’ve had no sugar today, not even in the tea.” He says, handing the goblet back.

“Excellent.” Snape drawls. “Then you should not require more than one dose.” He sweeps out of the room and Remus makes a face.

“Wolfsbane potion.” He explains. “Nasty, nasty aftertaste, but sugar makes it completely useless.” He takes a last long swig of his sugarless tea and Hallie remembers with a stab of sympathy that he normally sweetens everything.

“Does that mean you can’t have chocolate Uncle? To recover from the Dementors?”

“Unfortunately yes.” Remus nods. “Not for the week leading up to the full moon.”

Hallie takes her Uncle’s empty mug from him and goes to the small kettle in his office without another word, busying herself making another one with his favourite tea bags.

“Thank you, Hallie.” He says tiredly, not even able to muster up a token protest.

“Oh we were wondering.” Ginny asks, still standing next to Remus while Hallie makes tea. “Why didn’t you let the boggart face Hallie in her lesson?”

“Ah.” Remus nods softly as Hallie comes back with a steaming mug of tea for him. “Yes. The honest answer there is that I was worried about what you’d see and show to the class. I didn’t know if it would be a Basilisk, or perhaps even Voldemort himself.” He takes a sip and mutters another thank you. “What were you thinking of, Hallie?”

“The Dementor, on the train.” Hallie shrugs one shoulder and Ginny takes her hand unconsciously. “It made me see the chamber, and I think the screaming and begging I heard was my Mum.”

Ginny presses up close to her side.

“I see.” Remus looks a hundred years old for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Hallie. I wish I could provide more comfort. I won’t bring a boggart to class ever again, of course. And I’ll make sure there’s a steady supply of chocolate too.”

“Could you teach me that spell?” She asks. “The Patronus, I mean.”

“We can try.” Her uncle nods. “But I don’t want you to be disheartened if you don’t get it, Hallie. It’s advanced magic. Well beyond OWLs, most adults can’t cast one, since they never have a need.”

“Can I try and learn it too?” Ginny looks up at her defence teacher with pleading eyes.

“It would be difficult to stop you learning everything that Hallie does.” Remus chuckles. “Have you thought about skipping a year?”

Ginny shakes her head as Hallie fingers her wand in her sleeve, eager to get started.

“I don’t actually know everything that Hallie does, we’re not the same person.” She shrugs. “The memories are just available to me. I’d still need to revise and study.” She shakes her head. “Also I can’t just pass on practicals like Hallie can, she’s more talented than me.”

“Now that’s not true in the slightest.” Remus corrects her gently. “Just because Hallie grasps magic through practical tests more quickly doesn’t mean she’s more talented, it’s just that she learns better by doing. You may do better if you study the theory more and try to base your practical applications only on rigorous study, or you may fall somewhere in the middle.” He smiles, and Hallie sees the years of wear and tear that accompany being a werewolf lift from him for a while as Remus gets the opportunity to teach.

“I won’t hear a bad word said about any of my students.” He declares. “And that includes you two, make no mistake!”

The two of them spend a few hours learning the theory behind the patronus charm. Perfecting the wand movement and the incantation, along with learning to choose a suitable memory.

“There’s no real harm in practicing this on your own.” Remus tells them as he sees them out of the door. “But I would prefer that as with any magic you stick to practicing it for the first few times with me or another Professor around. Sets a good precedent.” He ruffles Hallie’s hair and she’s a touch too slow to dodge him, and then heads back into his office looking tired but happy.

“Back to the common room?” Ginny asks. “I do have homework, and so do you!”

Yeah. Hallie thinks as she falls straight back into using their bond, before a thought occurs to her and echoes through to Ginny.

That’s a great idea! Ginny says in her head. “Come on! Hermione is always in the common room lately!”

*~*

This is for my Uncle’s sake. Hallie thinks to herself as she raises her hand to knock on the door to the potions classroom.

You’ll be fine. Ginny’s voice. Now go on, it’ll be an amazing early Christmas gift to him if it works.

Hallie knocks and the door swings open slowly.

“Miss Potter.” Snape drawls. “To what do I owe the…” He pauses and the word looks to cause him physical discomfort of trying to make it past his lips. “Surprise, of your visit.”

“I wanted to ask you a potions question, P-Professor.” Hallie bites her lip and takes a step in, closing the door.

“Well?” Snape drawls.

Hallie takes a deep breath.

“It’s about Uncle Lupin’s Wolfsbane potion?”

Snape stares at her, unblinking. Hallie powers on.

“Why doesn’t it work with sugar?”

“Your performance in my class…”Snape says, disinterested. “Has indicated to me for years that you are not capable of understanding the answer to this question.” He stares at her for a long second and Hallie refuses to back down. “However, the answer lies in the nature of the disease. It is blood-borne.” He stares for another second. Hallie meets his glare again. “The potion works by disrupting the method by which the disease inhibits higher brain function.” Snape’s drawling monotone facade cracks just a hair as he explains something deep in the weeds of his field. “Sugar, in its formula, possesses a chemical to which the active ingredient in Wolfsbane potion is more inclined to bind. Thereby rendering it… useless.” He snaps the book on his desk shut to underscore his point.

Hallie swallows and nods.

“Thank you Professor. May I ask another question?”

“You may.” Snape’s eyes narrow. “But make it quick.”

“Hermione told me that muggles have invented sweeteners that aren’t sugar.” Hallie rushes out. She pulls out a scrap of parchment and places it on his desk, scrawled on it the word Acesulfame—k. “I-it’s supposed t-to be chemically different.” She takes a half a breath and fights her stress-stutter. “Would that work? Only, Uncle Remus looks so uncomfortable when he has to drink it.”

Snape studies the paper for a moment.

“I shall look into it.” He drawls, but there’s a slight, slight , tilt to his head that makes Hallie hope that maybe he means it. “You may leave now, Miss Potter.”

Hallie ducks out of the room as quickly as she can.

*~*

The first Quidditch match of the year is to be Gryffindor against Slytherin.

As the weather worsens while Autumn fades into Winter, Oliver regales them in practice with stories of all the excuses that Slytherin’s Marcus Flint is trying to use to get out of playing them.

“My seeker was traumatised in Care of Magical Creatures!” He imitates, setting the Weasley twins cackling. “They don’t want to play in this recent weather, they already know they have no chance.”

“He wasn’t hurt in the slightest!” Hallie laughs. “Hagrid would never let that happen.”

Come the gameday, the weather is possibly the worst Hallie has ever seen.

“We’ve drilled for Slytherin!” Oliver yells in the locker rooms. Whether it’s because Quidditch is his entire life or because he wants to be heard over the howling wind, Hallie isn’t quite sure. “They tried to switch it to the Badgers because they’re so scared!” He roars. “LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR!”

Hallie accepts a hair-tie from Angelina and pulls her pony-tail back to be low and tight. Then copies the other girls and tucks it down into the back of her robes for good measure. Between that and the ‘ Impervius’ charm on her glasses from Hermione, she’s about as ready as she can be.

She lays flat to her broom to deal with the wild winds as she hovers in formation, watching Oliver shake hands with Marcus Flint before Madam Hooch blows the whistle and she flies upwards as quickly as possible to get out of the way of her chasers. Oliver’s been drilling them to play as fast as humanly possible, to outspeed the Slytherin squad to such a degree that their poor sportsmanship and liberal applications of physical injury will only hurt themselves.

She hovers at the upper bounds of the stadium, the wind howling in her ears.

There are, however, two upsides to this weather. The first is that she cannot hear the insults that Draco Malfoy seems to be trying to shout in her direction as he shadows her. And the second is that Malfoy looks absolutely miserable.

The Slytherin chasers form up and Hallie dives at them immediately, flattened against her broom, racing the rainwater to force them to split up. Angelina or possibly Katie snatches the Quaffle in the wake of her forced split and Hallie stays low, watching two red-robed chasers bully the Slytherin keeper into giving them a goal with superior numbers and an excellent fake-out.

Harpy tactic. Ginny says in her head. Most aggressive chasers in the British league.

You’re adorable. Hallie replies, as the rain soaks into her bones and the competitive fire in her heart lets her ignore the cold.

She keeps her speed up, racing around the outside of the stadium low enough to reach out and touch the ground before she pulls into a steep climb behind the Slytherin hoops and comes out over the top of them, buzzing the opposing keeper into startling as he throws the Quaffle back into play and giving Alicia a chance to snatch it out of the air and slam it back through a hoop, she’s their best one-on-one scorer after all.

“The snitch in this weather is a fool’s game without a lot of luck, which means you have a chance to show off something Malfoy lacks entirely.” Oliver’s words from their pre-game briefing ring in her head. “Pure, actual, skill.”

Hallie grins and the rainwater chills her eye-teeth.

A bludger flies at her like a rocket, leaving a hollow trail through the rainwater as it whistles dangerously. Hallie kicks her broom into a hitch, spinning it and herself over and around with her bodyweight and leaving herself upside down before doubling back the way she came, leading the determined iron ball right back onto the Slytherin half of the pitch.

In this match, it isn’t her that’s playing high and loose to search for the snitch. In this weather that really would be a fool’s errand. So she and her beaters have swapped roles. Fred and George are playing back near Oliver’s hoops. Their goal is to make sure that the Snakes can simply never make a run on the Lion’s goal. Between them and Oliver the chance the Syltherins are able to score at all is nearly zero. Hallie is playing the role of bludger magnet, using a seeker’s freedom to break any attempt the Slytherins have at a formation while the Lion’s chasers play a close, fast formation of Angelina and Katie on one side and Alicia hanging solo on the other to score goal after goal after goal. It doesn’t matter who catches the snitch.

There’s a chance someone might get lucky, but given what she’s seen of Malfoy’s flying, Hallie is quite sure that even if he sees the snitch he’s not catching it in this weather.

She spots the Slytherin chasers forming up and dives at them again. She has no idea of the gamestate in this weather, but she trusts her team to use every single opportunity she makes to get or keep possession and hammer that advantage home.

The Slytherin chasers split again and Hallie hears a sharp crack that sounds like the Bludger trailing her might have hit one of their brooms.

You hit Warrington. Ginny tells her. Didn’t break his broom outright but it’s definitely limping.

Hallie’s grin widens.

She doesn’t ask Ginny for the score, that would be cheating and both of them love the sport far too much to do that.

She does hear the sound of a Quaffle hitting a hoop above her though, and she knows Gryffindor is up another ten points.

The downside to this kind of strategy in weather this punishing is that it can be tough to keep up as the game goes long with the snitch impossible to find, but that’s why Oliver has had the team drilling for up to five or six hours straight. Slytherin will start to flag first.

Hallie buzzes the Slytherin keeper again, flattened to her broom and hounding the wounded green-robed chaser across the pitch like a shark smelling blood. She shoots over his right shoulder before she carves him up with a swoop, forcing him to brake and slowing him even more to a crawl that he can’t get out of since his cracked and slightly bent Nimbus won’t accelerate anymore.

In her adrenaline-fueled single-minded race to cause as much chaos as physically possible she doesn’t notice the sky growing darker.

Hallie flies up and across Fred’s cone of fire as a bludger enters his range and just as planned he hits that bludger at her . She opens her broom up to full and lets it chase her, spying one of Slytherin’s sadistic beaters hanging too far out to the side for easy help.

She drags the bludger towards him and rockets over the front of his broom, hanging herself inverted as she passes over him and pulling sharply towards the ground.

She hears the sharp, glassy crack of another broom sporting an injury as she pulls out of her dive.

For hours hoop after hoop rings with the sound of the Gryffindor chasers scoring over and over, Hallie causing as much chaos as she can until a flicker of gold dashes right in front of her face.

She doesn’t know the numbers but she does know that the Snakes have barely any points -potentially none-. Catching the snitch now would virtually guarantee the cup.

It would also be one hell of a catch.

She gives chase.

Against a better seeker, she probably couldn’t get away with this, but she outclasses Malfoy in every single way and they both know it.

Nothing matters to her except that little golden glint.

Nothing.

The snitch leads her into a vertical climb at top speed and Hallie pushes her broom right to the limit. The foot-pegs shake and the handle trembles but she just needs it to give a little bit more .

In the distance, there’s a vaguely familiar scream, she pays it no mind.

In her single-minded focus, she doesn’t notice the sound of the wind in her ears dying, or the sound of the rain on her glasses turning from an insistent, rattling constant into an intermittent patter.

Her fingers graze the little golden ball and one of its wings manages to get stuck in her glove. She wants to lift it high in triumph but she feels so, so tired.

A shape in a black cloak enters her peripheral vision and Hallie realises she’s far, far too high up for anyone to help her.

She starts to list on her broom as the handle goes ice-cold beneath her grip. Another Dementor joins the first, then another, and another, and then more, Hallie’s vision swims, her mother screams, Ginny lays in a puddle of water and her vision narrows to a black tunnel as the phantom fire of Basilisk venom eats into her veins, she slips from her broom and enters a freefall in the raging wind.

The last thing she sees is the swarming gathering of a hundred ragged black cloaks beneath her.

*~*

“-And why did Miss Weasley pass out?”

“Shock maybe? Hallie did fall and break her arm, but she also doesn’t do well with Dementors, I’m afraid.”

“Barbaric, sending those things to a school.”

“I quite agree Poppy.”

Hallie groans and gropes for her glasses, eyes still shut.

“Merlin’s bloody beard! Hallie, Hallie stay still!”

Hallie fails to bite down her sudden scream as her arm gives an unexpected bolt of pure pain.

“Stay still!” A warm pair of hands lay themselves on her shoulders and Hallie relaxes marginally.

“I- ngh.” A strangled noise leaves her. “Un-cle R-Remus?”

“That’s me.” The warm hands remove themselves slowly. “Gave us a scare there.”

“S-sorry.” Hallie opens her eyes and takes in the hazy shapes and warm cream lights of the hospital wing. “Did we win at least?”

“You did win.” Remus places her glasses carefully on her face. “Although you nearly died in securing it. Your Dad would be proud. Your Mum would be going spare.”

“But we did win.” Hallie relaxes a bit.

“Yes you did.” Remus gives a breathy laugh. “Three hundred and ten to twenty.”

Hallie turns her head and sees Madam Pomfrey coming towards her.

“Ah Miss Potter.” The hospital matron looks both concerned and highly exasperated. “How are you feeling?”

“Unwell.” Hallie says with a small smirk.

“I’m not surprised.” Blue eyes narrow at her. “You fell just over twenty metres. You’re lucky your arm was the only damage.” Madam Pomfrey’s wand runs down her arm and Hallie feels a cooling, soothing sensation in its wake that penetrates to her bones. “Try moving it.” She’s instructed. “ Gently , Miss Potter.”

Hallie moves her arm very very slowly, alert for any sign of pain. But when none comes, she rolls out her shoulder and stretches her arm to its full extent.

“Madam Pomfrey.” She says with utmost gravitas. “You are a miracle worker.”

“Hmph.” She gets a huff in response. “Don’t you start to rely on that Miss Potter.”

“Uncle,” Hallie asks as Madam Pomfrey walks away, “when I woke up, I heard you mention Ginny?”

“She’s fine.” Remus shifts to the side and Hallie can see a familiar redheaded girl on the bed next to her. “She passed out when you did. You got very lucky falling into the stadium, Professor Dumbledore was able to slow your fall, he’s who you have to thank for keeping you from any more serious injuries.”

“I’ll write him a card.” Hallie says, distracted, as a knot of anxiety builds rapidly in her gut.

Ginny? She asks inside her head.

Hallie? The response she gets is weak but there. The anxiety loosens instantly.

Glad you’re okay. She whispers in her head.

Glad you’re okay. Ginny says. Bloody amazing catch.

When I’m good, I’m good. Hallie teases. But when I have a Weasley, I’m better.

Well you’ll always have a Weasley.

On the bed next to her, Hallie sees Ginny’s lips curve into a weak smile.

“I’m afraid I do have to be the bearer of some bad news.” Remus drags her focus away from Ginny.

“What is it?” Hallie asks. “Is the match going to have to be replayed?

“No, not that.” Remus smiles at her. “You won. But your Nimbus…” He pauses, Hallie’s heart climbs into her throat. “Your Nimbus blew into the Whomping Willow. Professor Flitwick is currently trying to recover the pieces.”

“No.” She whispers, heartbroken.

“Don’t you worry, Hallie.” Remus ruffles her hair gently and fondly. “We’ll think of something.”

*~*

The Weasley twins visit Hallie and Ginny in the hospital wing the next day, they bemoan the loss of Hallie’s broom, wish their sister a swift recovery from her own run-in with the Dementors, and then they hand over the secret to their success in a folded bit of parchment and not-so-subtly suggest that perhaps Hallie and Ginny enjoy a not-strictly-sanctioned Hogsmeade trip.

Hallie almost - almost - spills exactly who Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are, but manages to hold her tongue.

Her Uncle Remus is shocked and delighted to be reunited with one of his creations.

*~*

“Are you ready to try it against the Boggart now?”

Hallie squares her shoulders and nods. She may have only just managed to produce a thin white mist from her wand-tip, but she feels ready to be thrown in the deep end. It’s always worked for her before, after all.

“Excellent.” Her Uncle Remus says, clapping his hands softly. “Ginny, if you wouldn’t mind coming over here with me, don’t want the Boggart getting confused.” He sets his hands on the chest containing the Boggart he’d managed to find in Filch’s filing cabinet. “Got your memory ready Hallie?”

Hallie nods, determined, and the chest swings open.

A skeletal hand coated in decaying, bloated, waterlogged skin emerges from the dark depths of the chest as a low, dry inhale like dead leaves in a graveyard rattles in Hallie’s ears.

“ Expecto Patronum!” She yells, thinking hard of the moment in her first year when she won the house cup.

The Dementor advances.

“ EXPECTO PATRONUM!” her voice goes hoarse from the yell of defiance, and the tiniest, tiniest slip of white mist comes from the end of her wand.

Her mother screams, Tom Riddle laughs, and Hallie passes out.

“ Riddikulus! ” Remus yells. Ginny watches him force the Boggart back into the chest at wand-point and turn to cradle Hallie’s unconscious body. Those bright green eyes are closed, her breathing shallow, there’s a bleak, dark shadow on the other end of their bond-.

“Ginny?”

She comes to with a small gasp.

“Sorry.” She crouches by Hallie herself. “Sorry Professor, I was-.”

“It’s alright.” He murmurs an incantation softly and Hallie’s eyes open, Ginny nearly weeps as the bond opens up again. “No wonder you passed out during the Quidditch game, between the echo of each other's fear you both have it worse than anyone.” He helps Hallie sit up and hands her a few squares of chocolate. “Eat up, it’s not a real Dementor, you’ll recover much more quickly.”

Hallie takes a little nibble of the chocolate.

“What memory did you use? Out of curiosity.” Remus asks her.

Hallie takes another little nibble of her chocolate.

Can you tell him please, Gin?

“She was thinking of when she won the house cup in first year.” Ginny answers.

“Ah.” Remus nods. “I thought we might have this issue. I can see why you picked it, it ticks all the boxes in theory, a moment of sheer joy, but it’s not really transcendent.” He drums his fingers on his chin for a second. “If it helps, my Patronus memory is the moment James, Sirius, and Peter all revealed their animagus forms to me. It may be tainted by more recent events, but I had never felt so much like I was loved or I belonged.” He stands up and walks over to his kettle to make a cup of tea as Hallie takes another bite of her chocolate. “Padfoot’s memory is, as far as I’m aware, the moment Prongs welcomed him in with open arms after he ran away.”

He stirs the tea, dumps out the teabag, and adds a dash of milk and a sachet of sugar that looks like it came from a seaside café.

“What you really want is a memory where the joy was almost all-consuming. Think of a time when your heart constricted because you just felt so much.” He hands her the cup and Hallie belatedly realises that her Uncle has used her favourite mug. “Is there anything of that description that springs to mind?”

Hallie thinks for a minute and nods.

“Good to hear.” Remus gives them both an encouraging smile. “Drink up and we can try again.”

Hallie sits up, crosses her legs, and shares the hot, sweet tea with Ginny, their heads bent close as they share the drink and wind their fingers together.

From his desk, Remus Lupin grabs an old muggle camera and snaps a quick, quiet picture. 

“Are you ready to try again, Hallie?” He asks when they’ve finished the tea and Ginny is just fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

“I think so.” His Goddaughter stands up and rolls her shoulders. “I have a better memory this time.”

“Let’s give it a go then.” Remus beckons Ginny over and gets the chest ready.

The faux-Dementor rises as he opens the lid and Hallie concentrates on the feeling of getting her first Weasley Christmas jumper.

She remembers the light tan-coloured wool, the green letter ‘H’ in the middle and the way it felt soft and warm and so cozy in her arms. She remembers the way her eyes had prickled with tears as she clutched the comforting, precious wool tight to her chest in front of the small tree in the first year girl’s dorm, alone but for the girl in her head, a younger Ginny Weasley’s voice mentally passing her the words “You have people who want you.”

A white mist forms in front of her wand, within it swirls a white shadow, multiple pairs of elegant wings hang suspended in the air as a magical bird she’s only heard of third hand through Hermione and seen once on a page bears down on the Dementor.

“The Thunderbird.” Hermione whispers excitedly, showing Hallie an illustration on the page as she relates what Fawkes had done for her in the Chamber and Hermione reads all about Phoenixes as is her wont. “It’s a cousin to the Phoenix, native to North America, they leave storms in their wake!”

“Wonderful!” Her Godfather’s cry is punctuated with a loud slam as Hallie’s Patronus forces the Boggart back into its box. “Wonderful Hallie! Excellent!” He leans heavily on the chest with a broad smile. “I’d say that makes a lot of sense, based on the way you fly!” He laughs, it’s bright and cheerful and Hallie savours the way he looks young .

“A Thunderbird!” Ginny jumps at her excitedly for a hug and Hallie’s knees buckle under the unexpected weight, they go crashing to the floor with smiles still on their faces.

Excited Gin?

That was amazing!

“Didn’t you say magical Patronuses are rare?” Ginny asks Remus over her shoulder.

“They’re a touch less common.” Remus shrugs. “But then there are less magical creatures than there are mundane ones; and a Patronus is simply an animal that resonates with someone on a deep, personal level, it can be anything. They’re often shaped by significant life events, and they can change.” He heads over for another cup of tea, taking Hallie’s mug with him and grabbing a third off the mug-tree as well for Ginny. “When she first cast a Patronus in our sixth year Defense class, your Mother’s was an Eagle Ray, Hallie. Everyone was quite confused watching this big aquatic thing fly around the classroom.” He laughs at the memory. “By the time she fell in love with and married your Father however, her Patronus had changed to a Doe.”

He brings over three steaming cups of tea and sits with the girls on the floor, handing them each a mug and cupping his own in his hands.

“Now I have two questions.” He takes a sip. “The first is to ask you if you’d let me borrow Hedwig to send a quick letter.” Another sip, Remus’ eyes twinkle. “The second is to ask if you’re ready to have your go, Ginny?”

*~*

Padfoot.

I have good news and bad news.

Quite a lot has happened! Since I know you’ll be eager to hear about it I’ll update you on the Quidditch first. Hallie flew magnificently. The Gryffindor captain this year wants to go pro after he leaves and he’s throwing complex strategies at her, she never misses a beat! Played the Alvarez offense in the middle of a thunderstorm in the last match and she was scattering the Slytherin chasers like mice under a hawk. They won 310-20 and flattened Slytherin in the process, I know you’ll enjoy hearing that.

I regret to say that the Dementors stationed around the school were drawn to the pitch and they descended on her during the catch. She did still manage to nab it (James would be so proud), but she had a bad fall that broke her arm in 3 places. It was lucky Dumbledore caught her or it would have been worse.

Her broom was not so lucky, the poor Nimbus was blown right into the Whomping Willow and the tree -as I’m sure you can guess- did not take kindly to the interruption.

I’ve been keeping her spirits up by teaching her the Patronus charm but good brooms were always more your expertise than mine. She has managed it though! A Thunderbird. Her not-quite-girlfriend yet (leave my name out of it when you get to teasing her about that) has managed it as well! Although only in a vacuum as I don’t have a Dementor on hand (Hallie is lucky enough -from a certain point of view- to be able to use her Boggart for the practice), and hers is noncorporeal, but for a second year I couldn’t be happier with her progress.

On another front, little progress has been made on the acquisition of the rat, but he’s under observation at all times. I have The Map on hand again.

I do hope things are okay at home, let me know if you need anything, I have a personal fireplace, I can always pop home if it’s necessary.

Yours

Remus.

*~*

Remus.

First off, stop being so damn formal when you sign your letters off, I feel like I’m getting letters from a teacher about my Goddaughter causing some serious trouble!

(She is causing some trouble right? Please tell me she is.)

I hope I get to see her fly sometime soon! If she’s anything like you’re describing she’ll be headhunted by scouts before she’s out of her fifth year! I’m impressed she managed the Álvarez so well, it’s tricky to keep things balanced when you're solely responsible for keeping that much space open.

Side-note, Álvarez, not Alvarez. It’s Venezuelan, they get the most thunderstorms of anywhere, that’s why they invented it. It’s rare that I get to correct you and I’m savouring this moment.

Leave the broom issue with me, I’ve got fourteen years of birthdays and Christmases to make up for. Don’t worry, I won’t be reckless, Dumbledore arranged for a house-elf to visit me every week, I’ll ask if they can pop out and pick up a suitable one for me.

On that note, I’m not going stir-crazy just yet, don’t worry. Simply knowing I could leave if I wanted does a lot to tame my wanderlust (also, central heating and real food, Merlin do they make a difference!)

Thanks for the picture by the way, they look delightful together.

Mischief Managed

Padfoot.

*~*

Hallie Potter loves Christmas, these days.

Ever since that first one at Hogwarts, warm within the stone walls of the first year girl’s dorms with nobody but Ginny in her head and a lovingly made Weasley jumper clutched to her chest.

She wakes up this particular Christmas morning slowly but happily, lazily in sync with Ginny as they both come to wakefulness at the same time a floor apart. And once they’re both awake enough to justify it Ginny grabs all her parcels and walks upstairs to Hallie’s otherwise empty dorm room to share Christmas morning with her.

As has become tradition, Hallie opens her jumper first and slips into the warm, oversized wool that this year is a rich cream, a Gryffindor-crimson ‘H’ on the front.

You know I’m going to steal that, right?

Of course Gin.

I need to wait a while for that one though, I’ll need to grow into it, it might be too big right now.

Well your Mum does make them to be oversized on me .

An odd thing to do, for my jumpers.

Hallie laughs, bright and happy, then sees Ginny opening her present and braces herself.

You got me chaser’s gloves!?

An excitable Ginny launches at her and Hallie smiles as they tumble to the stone floor in a hug.

You deserve them! Hallie says as Ginny grips her tightly. You’re going to try out for the team next year aren’t you?

I’ll need a broom too. GInny says, and Hallie feels her insides twist as she remembers that her faithful Nimbus is now matchwood. But maybe I could use Charlie’s old Comet.

Maybe I should buy a Comet. Hallie smirks. It would be Hallie’s Comet.

Two Godfathers doesn’t mean you get to make dad jokes! Ginny’s laughter bubbles up in the otherwise quiet dorm.

It so does! Hallie sits up and finds that she really doesn’t care that Ginny is now half in her lap. She feels cozy as can be in her thick oversized jumper that reaches to her mid thigh and all the way to her knuckles, Ginny parked on her like Hallie is her favourite seat in the common room.

Both of them turn back to the tree and notice that the packages they’ve already removed were masking something long and thin.

That looks like a broomstick. Ginny notes.

As one they grab it and tear the paper off, revealing something even more rare than the broom that Hallie had spent so much time gawking at during the last days of summer.

In the back of her mind, Hallie had been expecting at most another Nimbus. Maybe the new Cleansweep Bridgewater signature model developed in collaboration with the Holyhead Harpies’ high-flying new chaser. But this isn’t that. This is so, so much more.

“A Thunderbolt…” Ginny whispers reverently. “Merlin, you’ve got a Thunderbolt!” She finds the tag tied securely below the electric blue serial number.

“Hallie.” She reads off. “I was informed you needed a new broom and I have a bit of lost time to make up for, this seemed appropriate given your Patronus. Happy Christmas. Love from York.”

It’s from Sirius! Hallie’s mental voice cheers. Sirius bought me a Thunderbolt!

“Thunderbolt VI.” She reads the stormbolt blue lettering carved into the pitch-dark wooden handle, still not daring to actually touch the broom. “How… this is supposed to be the competitor to the Firebolt! These are custom built!”

“It has hazel twigs.” Ginny hums. “Speed above all else.” Her fingers ghost ever-so-gently over the thin, fine twigs at the back of the broom, bound up in rings of multi-coloured goblin-forged iron that flow into sculpted stirrups, tight loops that contour to the riders boots for even more control in flight. 

Hallie finally touches the gleaming wood and feels it thrum under her fingers. The cold Australian Blackwood is polished like a mirror, glassy to the touch, but it feels like hiding within is a roiling, rumbling magic. It flickers against her fingers, seeking a connection.

Hallie is only too happy to grant it.

Hey Gin? She asks, eyes dancing with her roaring, cold-shattering competitive spirit. Wanna go flying?

Oh you’re so on! The fire in Ginny’s eyes matches Hallie’s beat for beat.

*~*

Gryffindor against Ravenclaw starts up on January 8th with the pitch under a blanket of snow.

Hallie’s broom thrums like caged thunder under her fingers.

She kicks out of the tunnel and hovers in formation, relishing in the feeling of the power underneath her as her feet slip snuggly into the stirrups, the broom feels eager. Her eyes scan the crowd for her friends. 

She finds them through Ginny, because she always knows exactly where to look to find Ginny, in this case seated between a huffy looking Hermione and an irritated Ron with a deep furrow in his brow. 

I'm really worried about them this time. She says to Ginny, in their link. I know they like to argue but…

It's their thing to argue. Ginny agrees. But I don't think Hermione realises that he's serious this time. If I didn't know that rat was Pettigrew I'd be on Ron’s side! We know he's lurking around the castle because of the Dementors, but Crookshanks is a cat. He's right! She casts a slightly concerned look at the captains shaking hands. I'll keep them from killing each other Hallie, you just show me what that broom can do.

Let's talk to them afterwards. Hallie says. You're right, I have a Ravenclaw seeker to humiliate.

That's my girl! Ginny responds.

Hallie likes that thought. She likes it a lot.

Up goes the Quaffle and away goes Hallie.

Today, the sky is clear, and the stark white snow on the ground is a perfect canvas to spot a snitch on.

So naturally, Hallie guns it at her opposing seeker.

Qiu Zhang is a Ravenclaw fourth year student, and renowned for being a pretty good flier. She’s agile and calculating, she likes to carve people up by cutting across them, forcing them to change direction and swooping in for the catch after ensuring the opposing seeker has no way to really remain in the race. She’s also not a particularly good searcher, she prefers to mark the likes of Draco Malfoy or her boyfriend Cedric Diggory, letting them do the work while she flies rings around them.

Hallie might be showing off a little, but she’d rather break her new Thunderbolt to pieces than not prove to this crowd that she is not someone Qiu can fly rings around. She could win this by searching and simply beating Qiu to the snitch, relying on her new broom’s ability to literally lap her opponent’s old-school comet in top speed. But where's the fun in that?

She flies right over the front of Qiu’s broom, little more than a crimson-robed blur, hand outstretched like she’s already seen the snitch and wants to end this match before it’s even begun.

It's so early in the match that Qiu can’t afford not to take the bait, just in case Hallie is right.

The split second after she’s sure Qiu has given chase, Hallie points herself right at the ground.

She’s pointing vertically down but the acceleration has her feet pinned to the broom’s stirrups, the snow grows closer with astonishing speed, a bright white canvas that engulfs Hallie’s vision before she kicks at the stirrups to throw her broom into a hitch. The propulsion cuts out for the briefest of moments, throwing the rear end in the direction Hallie has pushed it before her broom grumbles underneath her like a caged thunderhead and she’s pressed hard into the saddle, millimetres away from the snow and an inglorious end and accelerating back upwards into the game.

Qiu is not so lucky, her foot catches the snow as she tries to pull up and she tumbles, rolling into a thick snowdrift and kicking up a flurry that Hallie slows to a drift to watch. Her heart hammers in her chest, both from the adrenaline and the worry. She hopes she hasn’t overdone it and the magical safety ward that rings the pitch has done its job.

There’s a few tense moments in the stadium, and then a cheer rings out from everybody, but loudest from the Ravenclaw stands.

Qiu stands shakily and gets back onto her broom, kicking off out of the snow and watching Hallie warily.

“A SUPERB WRONSKI FEINT FROM POTTER!” Lee Jordan’s voice carries across the pitch from his magical microphone. “ZHANG STUMBLES! POTTER IS PROVING THAT SHE WON’T BE ABLE TO RELY ON HER USUAL STYLE HERE!”

Hallie waits until Qiu is close enough to see her, winks, and then shoots off again.

She’s well within the Thunderbolt’s speed and the limitations of her own eyes this time. Part one of her plan has been a success. That stumble has to have shaken her opposing seeker, getting caught out by an immediate feint and just barely remaining in the match should make her skittish. Between that and Hallie’s previous reputation as a daredevil psychotic more focussed on catching the snitch than on not breaking her own neck, she must now know that marking her won’t work.

Directly beneath her, Katie and Angelina pull off one of their specialty tricks. Ganging up on the Ravenclaw keeper Grant Page and effectively bullying him out of his own goalposts with aggressive flying, Angelina pulling away just outside the box to avoid a foul.

Hallie smiles, waits a heartbeat and a half, hangs inverted, and drops vertical.

There’s a gasp as she accelerates to terminal velocity in less time than it takes most people to blink, whipping past Page right as he’s preparing to throw the quaffle back into play and making him fumble it right into Alicia’s waiting arms for her to slam it through the hoop for another quick ten points.

“POTTER AND SPINNET TEAM UP FOR A HALF ÁLVAREZ OFF THE BACK OF A WELL EXECUTED GRIFFITH OVERWHELM FROM JOHNSON AND BELL!” Lee’s voice again, loud, clear and full of house pride, but neutral enough to keep his job. “TWENTY TO ZERO GRYFFINDOR, RAVENCLAW GUARANTEED POSSESSION NOW!”

Hallie gives Alicia a high five as they pass each other and she accelerates back to the midfield, shunting upwards and looking to mark Qiu as Ravenclaw form a tight formation to try and use their guaranteed possession to make a comeback.

Fred and George doubleshot a single bludger into the Ravenclaw chaser’s huddle, scattering one of them away as he dodges, and Hallie opens the taps a little, diving to scoop that fired bludger out of the field and back into the Gryffindor side of the pitch to keep her beaters from running low on ammunition.

Then she sees Qiu accelerate as if in chase and gets a different idea.

Hallie kicks a hitch to kill her speed and turn on a knut, pulling the nose of her broom to cross Qiu’s path and then opening the Thunderbolt up a little to effortlessly catch the other seeker, drawing along side and carving Qiu up with a harsh swoop as the Ravenclaw seeker is so fond of doing to others, then accelerating away, leaving an angry, high-speed bludger searching for a target and with a slowed down seeker to latch on to. She books it towards a Weasley twin for good measure, if the bludger stays with her somehow, he’ll have an easy setup to hammer it right at Qiu anyway.

She sees no glint of gold as she goes, it must have been a feint or a setup. A quick check over her shoulder confirms the worst case scenario, Ravenclaw’s beaters are playing close and tight, this was a set-up to give their chasers a free run at the posts. Qiu isn't just trying to fake her out, she's too smart for that.

Just as Hallie reaches the end of the pitch and goes to pull up, three large, black, hooded forms emerge from underneath the stands. Her mind is so focused on the game that her seeker’s reflexes take over, no time to second guess. Her wand comes out of her sleeve and the memory of that first Christmas is brought to the forefront of her mind. She focuses on the emotion, that feeling of being wanted and loved. Focuses until her heart nearly stutters and her eyes prickle with tears.

“ Expecto Patronum!”

A bright Thunderbird wreathed in crystalline silver smoke that glitters in the sunlight springs from her wand. It rushes to the figures, gliding on six elegant wings as fast as Hallie’s new broom.

There’s a deafening blast as Madam Hooch’s whistle sounds. Everyone stops dead, the bludgers hang motionless in the air. All except the snitch, which is nowhere to be seen anyway.

Hallie sits back on her broom as her Patronus flies through the figures and dissipates as they tumble to the ground, a tangle of uncoordinated limbs in thick black cloth.

Madam Hooch shoots her a glance as she flies past, while it isn’t illegal to bring a wand onto the pitch -it’s useful for players to have a way to save themselves from falling-, casting spells during a game that aren’t on a specific list of approved charms is against the rules.

I think you’ll be fine. Ginny says in her head. You didn’t cast it at another player, self-defense at the most.

Hallie relaxes a touch, watching as Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall both approach the tangle of figures, a flick of McGonagall’s wand unmasking them.

Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Flint all lay stunned on the snow, blinking at the light suddenly blinding them and Hallie watches their faces drop into horror at the sight of a furious Professor McGonagall.

“Miss Potter!” She calls, tone brooking no argument.

Hallie zips down and hops off her Thunderbolt, the broom obediently hovering at waist height where she leaves it, glass-like black wood standing out above the snow.

“Yes Professor?” She sinks up to mid-shin in the snow and fumbles, catching herself.

“Your wand please.” McGonagall holds out her hand and Hallie hands it over, thirteen and a half inches of Red Oak with a Phoenix tail feather core in her slightly nervous hand.

She won’t snap it. Ginny’s voice soothes her nerves, her mind racing from being locked into a seekers ‘react first and think later’ mindset. She probably just wants to check what you cast.

Their head of house produces her own wand and sweeps it gently along the length of Hallie’s while whispering a smooth incantation in her refined Morningside accent.

“ Priori Incantato.”

Hallie’s wand glitters bright silver, a light that reminds her of burning magnesium from an old muggle chemistry class.

“An excellent corporeal Patronus, Miss Potter.” She praises, handing Hallie’s wand back. “Fifteen points to Gryffindor for correctly performing an incredibly complex spell in a quick fashion.” Hallie can’t help but give a beaming smile.

“Back on your broom and back to the game Potter.” Madam Hooch commands with a sharp nod.

Hallie takes a few difficult steps back to her hovering Thunderbolt in the snow and mounts it with a degree of difficulty, getting her feet into the stirrups and then accelerating back up to the pitch as Professor McGongall starts shouting below her.

“An unworthy trick!” Her voice floats up to Hallie and she ends up in the air next to Qiu, the other seeker grinning at the scene. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage and injure the Gryffindor seeker! Fifty points from Slytherin for each of you and detention! If I have my way, none of you will ever play Quidditch again as long as you live!”

Hallie takes in a sharp breath through her teeth and savours the cold air. Qiu offers her a fistbump and Hallie cautiously accepts it, flying back into starting formation as Madam Hooch’s whistle sounds three times.

Don’t go soft on her because she seems nice. Ginny’s voice sounds a tiny bit huffy and maybe a touch possessive.

Wouldn’t dream of it Gin. Hallie replies as the Quaffle is released and the game resumes, floating higher above the action. But there’s only one girl I’d ever give my all for, and that’s you.

That competitive fire burns inside them both and then Hallie sees a flicker of gold hanging around the Ravenclaw hoops.

“POTTER AND ZHANG APPEAR TO HAVE BOTH SEEN THE SNITCH!” Lee’s voice resounds loud and bright as Hallie pours on speed and doesn’t hesitate to open her Thunderbolt all the way up.

The world turns blurry and she focuses on that little, tiny glint of gold. Qiu was closer by over half the pitch, but Hallie has two distinct advantages, a better broom and significantly less fear. The air is where she belongs, she can feel it. Her instincts sing with the thrill of the chase and everything else exits her mind.

She reaches the hoops by the time Qiu is barely halfway through her dive, following the snitch down and around the snow covered edge of the pitch, barely a finger’s width above the ground, gaining rapidly when she hears the crack of a beater’s bat and a whistling enters her ears. She kicks a hitch on instinct to shunt herself upwards, losing a half-metre on the snitch, rolling in the same motion to hang herself upside down as she races closer and closer. The bludger that had been meant to slam into her hip burrows into the snow in a smoking hole and emerges inside the latticework of the stands, she can hear it to her right shredding wood as it tries to fight back to her and she presses her broom for just a bit more.

The snitch jinks upwards in an instant turn and Hallie follows suit, pushing through a tight climb from her inverted hang and ending up vertical, pressed flat to her broom with her dark hair whipping in the wind.

Give me everything. She thinks, pressing the broom onwards. There’s a burst of speed and she stretches out her hand, the winged golden ball entering her palm as she closes her fingers, right in front of the stands, a crowd of yellow-scarves and hats to her right as the Hufflepuffs seem caught between cheering and groaning.

“A CATCH FROM POTTER!” Lee Jordan yells. “GRYFFINDOR WIN! TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO ONE HUNDRED!”

Hallie blinks as she slows to a hover.

We were behind on goals?

Qiu was playing to drag you away from making space the whole game. Ginny answers. Oliver relies on you to do that a lot, so after she took your bait at the start and realised she couldn’t mark you, she made the play to drag you and your bludger to her, the Ravenclaw chasers and beaters played tight to score a lot in the short time she gave them. Oliver was run ragged.

Damn, that was smart of them. Hallie thinks as she holds the snitch high and the rest of the team joins her, Oliver looking exuberant and clapping her on the shoulder as she shares fistbumps and high fives with all of her chasers. Were you worried?

Never. Ginny’s certainty is ironclad in her head, Hallie can feel it. Why would I be worried when you’re in the air? When you’re good, you’re good.

But when I have Ginny Weasley, I’m better!

There’s a party in the common room, of course, but Hallie stays in her dorm-room after putting her gear away.

“Can we talk?” She asks Hermione softly, her friend sequestered in her bed to study away from the noise.

“About what?” Hermione asks, not looking up from the page.

“You and Ron.” Hallie takes a seat on Hermione’s bed, getting swatted at with a bookmark for her trouble, although Hermione makes space for her anyway.

“What about him?” Hermione’s finger traces along a line as she attempts to talk and read at the same time.

“Why are you so averse to apologising to him?”

Hermione puts the bookmark in place and slams the book closed, making Hallie jump a bit.

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” She says. “Why should I apologise! He didn’t take care of his rat and now he’s angry at me!”

“Hermione…” Hallie groans. “Hear me out, please?”

“Why should I?!” Hermione folds her arms. “You’re taking his side! Just like you always do!”

“I don’t alway-.” Hallie’s words hang in the air as Hermione grabs the book under her arm and storms downstairs.

Gin? She asks, worried.

I’ve got her. Ginny’s voice is soft. Don’t worry. I’ll take her into my dorm for a bit. I can try and talk to her. I’ve dealt with Ron long enough to know how he can be.

Hallie sighs sadly, makes Hermione’s bed for her, fluffs her pillow, leaves a small bar of chocolate from her own trunk on it for good measure, and heads down to the party.

*~*

At two in the morning, a piercing scream followed by a pair of yells wakes her up.

Hallie bolts out of bed and grabs her wand from the nightstand, bare feet slapping noisily on the cold stone floor, and races down the stairs dressed only in her pajama bottoms and a light sleeping shirt. She rounds the bottom of the stairs and races up the boy’s staircase, feeling Ginny waking up in the back of her head and finding Percy at the door to the fifth year boy’s dorm.

“What are you doing?” He asks her, indignant.

“Me?” Hallie’s face screws up in confusion. “Forget me Percy what the bloody hell happened? It sounded like someone saw a Dementor!”

Percy opens the door and Hallie is greeted with the sight of Fred and George Weasley standing next to a pair of ransacked trunks and shredded bed curtains.

“There was a man!” Fred -or possibly George- yells as he sees Percy. “Must have been Black! We woke up to him ransacking our trunks! He slashed at us with a knife from in my trunk and then he ran off!”

“What did he look like?” Hallie asks, hurriedly.

“He was short, hunchbacked. Long hair and bald on top. He took off with my potions knife!”

“That doesn’t sound like Black.” Hallie says. “We’ve all seen those wanted posters, right?”

“She’s correct.” Percy’s voice actually sounds authoritative for once. “Fred, George.” He turns to them with a serious look. “Are you okay?”

“Think so.”

“Yeah only got the curtains.”

Percy takes in their replies with a nod.

“Good, I’m really glad he didn’t get you.”

“It was weird though.” One of the twins has a confused look on his face. “It was him that screamed. I thought Black was some hardened mass murderer. He did twelve years in Azkaban, how was he shocked by us waking up?”

*~*

That sounds like Peter.” Remus nods gravely. “He must have been trying to find the map, it would be a ticket out the castle for him. James and Sirius were the ones who memorised the secret passages.”

McGongall looks at Remus and Hallie with a sharp glare.

“The two of you are telling me...” She says, eyes narrow. “That you have been sheltering Sirius Black since the end of the summer?!”

“Minerva.” Dukbledore’s voice brings an all-too-brief wave of calm with it. “Please, let them explain.”

“I have half a mind to make you do the explaining!” McGonagall turns sharp eyes on Dumbledore and Hallie feels a stab of sympathy for the headmaster as Ginny in her head laughs softly. “Pray tell, Albus, how you knew about this arrangement and did nothing to ensure the safety of the students here! The Dementors hanging around this castle like a blight for no good reason! Overworking poor Poppy until she’s practically dead on her feet! Allowing an actual, dangerous murder to roam the castle freely in the guise of an unregistered animagus!”

“It was my calculated assumption that Peter Pettigrew would do nothing.” Dumbledore rumbles. “He had lived for over a decade as a pet in a wizarding family, it was safe to assume that he would not wish to rock the boat-.”

“Plainly it was not safe to assume!” McGongall yells. “Not only were my students attacked by a known killer, but an innocent man was locked in Azkaban for a decade!”

She locks eyes with Hallie.

“I assume it was Mister Black who sent you the Thunderbolt that Professor Lupin vouched for?”

“Yes Professor.” Hallie looks at her shoes and shuffles her feet, her eyes tracking back up to McGonagall’s stern face after a second to see a smirk curving the corner of her mouth.

“Well.” McGonagall hums. “He always did have good taste and a flair for the dramatic.”

*~*

Padfoot.

Events have moved quickly into motion, I must say.

Peter ransacked the fifth year boy’s dorm looking for the map. He mustn’t have known the two who had it had handed it off to Hallie, or that she had handed it off to me (a long story, we can catch up over it later).

Dumbledore is headed to London now to the Ministry, he’s going to try and press-gang Minister Fudge into opening you a trial. Don’t be surprised if you have callers though, McGonagall is in the loop, and I think she’s quite worried about you, so make yourself presentable in case she comes calling! Nobody wants a repeat of sixth year!

I’ll be keeping an eye on the map at all times, Pettigrew flicks in and out, he’s still on the grounds, Albus keyed his magical signature into the wards as an undesirable, he can’t leave as an animagus, nor could he get past the Dementors on foot. We’ll find him, I promise. He may be holed up in the Shack.

On a lighter note, that new broom suits Hallie to a T. She flew magnificently against Ravenclaw the other day, I’ve included a few pictures for you, including a spectacular bludger dodge. She might be the best seeker Hogwarts has seen in years, although she struggles with her grades. Not one for theory, all instinct all the time, I hope they never fail her.

Mischief ongoing.

Remus.

*~*

Remus

Now that’s a better way to sign your letters off!

It will be nice to see McGonagall if she calls, although she may just want to hex me, I’m fairly certain I’m responsible for more than a few of the grey hairs on her head.

Peter’s possibility of escape has me antsy, I must admit. I’ve been trying to talk the house elves catering to me into bringing me a practice dummy of some kind so I can rekindle my wand-work, but no such luck.

Those pictures are fantastic. She flies like she was born to it! I guess she was, in a way. Do you remember James bought her a toy broom? Had her knocking the lights off their fixtures at a few months old before Lily put a stop to it. That hitch-kick to dodge a bludger was incredible! And that catch ! James and Lily would both be proud. Although Lily would insist she brush up on her featherfall charm until she could cast it in her sleep I’m sure.

It might be a fool's hope, but do you think it might be possible that I can come to watch her in the finals?

Mischief hopeful.

Padfoot.

*~*

“He’s reappeared.” Remus mutters. “Near the Hufflepuff common room.”

“Let’s box him in.” Flitwick suggests. “He’s down in the basement.”

The group moves.

*~*

“Hermione!”

“Crookshanks didn’t-!”

“At least act like you’re sorry!”

Hallie rolls her eyes and takes Ginny’s hand without really thinking about it as the two of them walk behind Ron and Hermione up from Hagrid’s hut.

It’s been weeks.

She won’t give in, you know that. Ginny says. It’s always been their thing, going all-out on eachother.

Except Hermione prioritises being right over breathing. Hallie says.

Yeah, pretty much. Ginny agrees. I wonder how he’s going to take it when-.

Something skitters past Hallie’s feet in the grass, and a moment later Remus comes sweeping over the hill in a hurry.

“Professor?” Ginny asks. “Are you okay?”

“He got away from us!” Remus yells.

“That was-.” Hallie starts as it filters through her mind. “That way!” She points down back towards Hagrid’s hut. “He went past my feet!”

Remus raises his wand in that direction and mutters something complex. Then he sprints off.

“What was that all about?” Ron folds his arms, argument with Hermione temporarily forgotten.

He’s not going to take this well. Ginny notes.

Oh not in the least. Hallie agrees. Hermione will be right, and that won’t help.

She opens her mouth and prepares to spill the story when she hears an all-too-familiar scream.

The dew at their feet freezes over.

Several Dementors glide out of the forbidden forest, then stop halfway towards Hagrid’s hut, and turn, very slowly, towards the four of them.

Hallie’s vision begins to go dark.

She gropes for her wand, but it’s no use. The last thing she thinks she sees is the bright silver light of, somehow, her own Patronus.

She wakes up in the hospital wing, Ginny in the bed next to her.

“What happened?” She asks, mouth feeling like it’s full of cotton.

“Bad news.” Her Uncle’s voice, soft and sad. “He got away.”

“Who g-.” It hits Hallie at that moment. “Pettigrew escaped?”

“Into the forbidden forest.” Remus mutters, he dabs at what Hallie notices is a nasty cut above his eye. “There’s no way we’ll find him in there.”

He goes to say more, but Professor McGonagall appears in the hospital wing, heading towards Hermione.

“Miss Granger.” She says. “One turn, hurry about it.”

Hermione gasps and steps up to Professor McGongall, reaching inside her robes for something golden and looping a chain awkwardly over McGonagall’s neck. She turns the thing in the middle once and then the two of them disappear.

Then they walk back in again, two seconds later, McGonagall holding a sturdy, iron box and looking like she’s just been in a fight, her hair all out of place and her robes torn.

“Quickly!” She urges Hermione, pointing at Hallie before sitting down in the chair next to Remus, a worried but satisfied expression on her face.

Hallie doesn’t even have a chance to ask a question before Hermione comes, sits on the bed and loops a strange chain around her neck, then turns a small hourglass inside a pendant once.

The world dissolves.

“Hermione what?” She reaches for the chain as dark shadow swirls around them, alongside what looks like a sandstorm.

“Don’t touch it!” Hermione yells, slapping at her hands.

Then the world comes back into being, they’re in the hospital wing, Hallie looks around, confused.

“Where’s Uncle Remus, where’s Gin-.” She falters before the strangest possible sensation occurs inside her own head. Her bond with Ginny, there but… not there. She can hear her own voice in the link.

“It’s a time turner.” Hermione says after a moment. She grabs Hallie’s hand and pulls her to her feet. “There’s not much time, we have to go now!”

The two of them race out of the hospital wing, Hermione leading her down to Hagrid’s hut.

“We’ve gone back by an hour.” She’s saying, listing off several things. “The Dementors were drawn by a fight, Professor McGonagall had a duel with a strange man who stole Professor Lupin’s wand, then we saw your Patronus frighten away the Dementors when they came for us.”

“But you were in the hospital wing when, then…” Hallie shakes her head in confusion, not least because she can hear her own thoughts and Ginny’s from an hour ago.

“I need you to cast your Patronus when I tell you to!” Hermione snaps her fingers to get Hallie’s attention and leads her to the edge of the forest, hiding with Hagrid’s hut barely in sight.

Just as they get settled, Remus runs into view, a spell on his lips.

Emerging from a rat on the ground, Peter Pettigrew lunges at Remus, holding a knife, Remus swears and Pettigrew takes advantage of the shock to flail with the knife at his eyes. Remus recoils and Pettigrew snatches his wand from his hand before sprinting away into the forest.

Hermione drags at her hand and Hallie follows, they both run after Pettigrew’s path into the undergrowth until there’s an explosion of light.

Hermione grabs Hallie and yanks her behind a tree, both of them cautiously peering out afterwards to watch Professor McGonagall casting a variety of complex spells. Light and fire and water flies at Pettigrew, who desperately defends himself with his stolen wand, barely managing to bat away spellfire and occasionally managing to fling a spell that goes wide before he quails under McGonagall’s expert assault and is hit by a jet of bright red light, his back slamming into the tree Hallie and Hermione are hidden behind.

Remus’ wand flies free of his fingers and without thinking about it, Hallie catches it.

“That’s why- shit, come on!” Hermione whispers, closing her mouth and dragging Hallie away.

The two of them watch as McGonagall flicks her wand at Pettigrew, transforming him into a rat before conjuring a solid metal box and dropping him in it.

“Miss Granger?” She calls over her shoulder. “Did you see Professor Lupin’s wand anywhere?”

“I think it went behind that tree.” Comes Hermione’s breathless voice. Hallie looks at her sharply.

But it isn’t the Hermione she came in here with that spoke. A second Hermione emerges from behind McGonagall and starts rooting through the leaves.

“I’d swear this is where it was.” She mutters.

An unnatural cold filters down Hallie’s spine and her mother’s scream sounds in her ears.

“Now Hallie!” Hermione whisper-shouts.

Hallie concentrates on the feeling of her first Weasley jumper, that Christmas alone barring Ginny in the warm stone of the Gryffindor Tower first years dorm. She concentrates until her heart feels like it might burst with the emotion.

“ Expecto Patronum!”

Her Thunderbird comes from her wand, soaring around the trees and past the other Hermione and McGonagall, scattering the Dementors bearing down on them.

“We have to start getting back.” Hermione urges her.

Hallie starts to nod, then hears a familiar exchange in her head.

He’s not going to take this well. Ginny’s voice, then her own.

Hermione will be right, and that won’t help.

Hallie swears and sprints after the Dementors.

“It was my Patronus!” She pants. “From the trees!”

“Of course!” Hermione says, trailing behind her.

They come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hallie sees herself and Ginny falling to the completely unexpected Dementors, then her Thunderbird soars out and herds the Dementors away, back into the Forest.

The effort of maintaining it finally catches up with her and Hallie falls to her knees.

“We did it!” Hermione says. “But we have to get- Hallie? Hallie!”

Hallie collapses in the treeline.

She wakes up briefly again to hear Hermione banging on a window.

“Let us in!” She begs. “Please Professor!”

*~*

It might be a bad thing that Hallie is familiar with the Hospital wing’s beds by touch.

“Ah, Miss Potter.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Ginny is back in her head and Hallie sits up slowly.

*~*

“Remember, they’re going to ask you questions one at a time. Keep your answers short, the potion will force you to be truthful.” Hallie nods and straightens her blouse.

“Why do they even need me to testify?” She asks. “They have testimony from Dumbledore .”

“Dumbledore is also the Chief Warlock.” Remus taps his wand on her glasses and Hallie blinks as they’re scrubbed clean before her eyes. “He’s presiding over this particular trial as he’s the only one with the authority. Sirius was already acquitted of Pettigrew’s murder, this trial is to determine what -if anything- needs to happen in punishment for his breakout from Azkaban.”

“But he was wrongfully imprisoned!” Hallie huffs.

“I know.” Remus conjures a cream ribbon. “But the legal system tends to win when it goes head to head with simple logic.” He dangles the ribbon in front of her face. “Here, tie your hair back.”

“I don’t want to tie my hair back.” Hallie protests.

It does look better down. Ginny adds in her head.

“Well I wish you’d do something with it.” Remus folds his arms.

“And I’m wishing I had gone with a suit.” Hallie grumbles, brushing at her calf-length tartan skirt.

“I gave you the option.” Remus sighs.

A bell sounds and Hallie straightens her blouse again, hugging her Godfather before walking into the courtroom and taking her indicated seat.

“Honoured Members.” Dumbledore’s voice booms around the chamber. “Today we are gathered for the second of the trials pertaining to Sirius Black. This session will be related to the potential charges for his escape from Azkaban.” He pauses and taps his wand on his throat, quickly making a comment to an aide before he taps it again and resumes speaking. “Our first witness will be Miss Hallie Josaphine Potter. Who shall provide for us an accounting of her own role in identifying and sheltering Mr Black.”

A ministry-authorised potion-maker steps forwards with a vial.

“Open your mouth please Miss Potter.” She asks kindly, her wizened hands steady despite her apparent age.

Hallie does so and three small drops of a clear, watery liquid are placed on her tongue.

“Let the record show that Miss Potter has been previously tested for resistance to Veritaserum in accordance with Ministry guidelines.” Dumbledore says. “As Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I myself will not be asking questions in view of fairness, and thus I turn the floor over to Madam Amelia Bones.”

A severe looking woman in official black clothes steps up holding a notebook and Hallie meets her eyes levelly.

*~*

Sirius Black sits in the Professor’s stand watching Gryffindor square up against Hufflepuff. Hallie can see him out of the corner of her eye, balanced easily on her Thunderbolt opposite Cedric Diggory. The sun is bright and high in the sky and below them Madam Hooch holds the Quaffle at the ready and blows her whistle.

It’s been the talk of the castle for weeks, Both teams had flattened Slytherin in due course, and both had managed to grab narrower victories over Ravenclaw. Gryffindor had obliterated Slytherin harder, but the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match had gone on longer. It’s a complete dead heat for the championship.

The Quaffle is tossed up and Gryffindor’s chasers win it out of the scrum. Angelina sprints for it, holding possession and dashing at keeper Herbert Fleet. He sits back by his hoops and Angelina fakes him right, passing backwards to Katie who slams it through the left hoop.

Hallie hangs high and doesn’t buzz Fleet. Instead she looks towards the beaters, sees one going for a bludger, and turns her broom in that direction.

The wind streams past her and she carves the beater up with a harsh swoop over and down in front of him, forcing him to brake. The bludger naturally comes to target her and Hallie drags it back to Fred, who promptly uses it to scatter the Hufflepuff chasers.

She takes off towards Diggory in a rush when he swoops high around the middle of the pitch, blocking his dive to prevent him from scattering the Lion’s chasers, and then just as quickly kicking her broom up and over to turn on the spot, pointing towards the ground and dropping vertically.

Just like with Qiu, Cedric can’t afford to call her bluff, while blocking his dive helps her chasers, he wasn’t scanning below himself when she blocked him, and she came from an unorthodox angle. Combined with the somewhat dangerous move she’s decided to pull to turn instantly and the fact that he hasn’t seen the snitch anywhere and Hallie could be blocking his view of it, in the end he really has no choice, so he dives after her.

Hallie knows that unlike with his girlfriend, Cedric is better with dives, so she doesn't plan to put him out of contention with this one, but it does give her a chance both to test his mettle and his awareness as the stands speed past in the blink of an eye. She pulls up just in time, noting that Cedric pulled up before she did, while she accelerates up not to hang in the midfield but directly towards the Badger’s hoops.

The rules are very clear that no more than one chaser may be in the box while attempting to score, but Hallie is not a chaser, and what Cedric hadn’t noticed as she blocked his scattering dive before baiting him into a Wronski Feint was that Alicia was passing to Katie Bell. Now that Katie is in front of the hoops, Hallie burns towards Fleet’s left flank, blocking his flight path and giving Katie a free hoop to score in before she jets off to mark Diggory again, watching as Fred or George performs what is normally Hallie’s duty and forces Fleet into a fumble, giving Alicia the Quaffle and allowing her to shoot from outside the box for another free ten while Katie keeps marking.

Diggory speeds off and Hallie follows, the glassy handle of her Thunderbolt humming under her hands before she sees a little glitter of gold to their right.

She breaks chase, the Thunderbolt’s magic growling under her as she pushes the broom to give her an advantage.

“POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!” Lee yells and Hallie grins, feeling the cold wind stream into her lungs as she breathes easily and enjoys the chase.

Diggory is certainly behind her after Lee’s announcement, so Hallie doesn’t bother with fancy tricks just yet, chasing the snitch as it sweeps up and over the Hufflepuff stands, a sea of yellow and black beneath her chanting Diggory’s name as she follows the snitch back into the stadium. It zips down to the grass and Hallie follows it like she’s tied to it. The grass whips by under her and she tucks her elbows tight to her ribs to avoid grazing the ground. Here, she knows she has an advantage on Diggory. He’s bigger and heavier than she is so he can’t contest her in narrow conditions. Where he does have an advantage is if they’re side by side, but Hallie plans to never let that happen.

The snitch nearly hits the opposite wall that is the Professor’s stand and climbs straight up to compensate, Hallie anticipates it, pulling the Thunderbolt upwards through a harsh turn that has her pressed hard into the saddle. She passes right in front of Sirius as well as Remus, and the rest of her teachers, close enough to touch, but pays them no mind.

Madam Hooch’s whistle blows harshly and everyone comes to a stop except the snitch, which flits off out of sight as Hallie turns to see what happened.

A Hufflepuff beater with a pixie cut and ‘O’Flaherty’ written across her shoulders has her arms crossed, arguing hotly with Madam Hooch. Hallie sees Cedric some distance behind her roll his eyes and haul his broom in that direction as Oliver flies over from the hoops.

Gin? She asks inside her head as she flies closer.

Bludger at Oliver just before their chaser entered the box. No way Hooch thinks it was viable.

Sure enough as both teams cluster around Madam Hooch is laying down the law.

“Not another word O’Flaherty! Macavoy was not in the zone.” She holds her hand up and flicks her wand out of her sleeve, touching it to her throat.

“Penalty for Gryffindor!”

A great cheer goes up from the crimson-coloured segment of the stands as Alicia takes the Quaffle and tosses it hand to hand as she squares up against Fleet. Hallie hangs in formation above the game to watch.

What should she do, do you think Gin? She asks, out of curiosity.

I’d hitch-fake him. Is Ginny’s immediate answer. He’s the most defensive keeper in the school, watch, he’ll play as close to his hoops as he can for this.

Hallie watches with interest as Fleet does exactly as Ginny says he will. He keeps his back to his central hoop, almost touching it. It’s not a bad strategy in a one-on-one, it makes it hard for Alicia to fake him traditionally, she has to lunge one way eventually and this much space gives Fleet room to stay patient until he’s sure while completely blocking his central hoop.

Will she hitch-fake him? She asks Ginny.

I think so. Ginny says. This chaser lineup are the best the school’s seen for a long time.

Alicia bolts forwards without warning, making a mad dash for the right hoop. Fleet waits until she’s almost uncomfortably close, then goes for an intercept at high speed.

Hitch-fake. Ginny crows.

Not a split-second later, Alicia’s broom bucks backwards as she kicks a hitch, throwing the broom and herself backwards and sending the Quaffle sailing cleanly through the vacated middle hoop.

“GRYFFINDOR SCORE!” Lee Jordan’s voice rings out loud and clear. “FANTASTIC HITCH-FAKE FROM SPINNET!”

The Quaffle is thrown out and play resumes.

Calculated penalty. Ginny muses. Diggory can’t beat you, have to try and reset the chase for him.

He can’t beat me anyway. Hallie smiles and rolls to dodge a bludger, turning it into a vertical dive halfway through to split the yellow-clad chasers playing in a tight pack underneath her.

Damn right. Ginny thinks.

Hallie takes full stock of the pitch as she climbs out of her splitting dive, marking Diggory’s movement with her eyes. He seems to be scanning methodically, working in boxes that-.

There’s a glint of gold behind him, near the Lion’s hoops.

Hallie makes a decision. She’s not going to fake him out, she’s just going to take him head on. She points the broom right at the snitch and pushes it right up to its speed limit with a wide smile.

“POTTER’S SEEN IT!” Lee roars into his microphone.

Diggory takes stock of her trajectory and kicks a hitch, spinning in place and speeding off as Hallie flattens herself to her broom and coaxes every bit of power she can from it.

Her eyes chase that golden glint as the rest of the world blurs into a streak of colours. She tracks Diggory mentally, noting with a pleased hum in her throat that he can’t beat her there, only at most come up alongside. And if it’s a straight drag-race, she’ll win every single time.

The snitch jinks and the two seekers continue to give chase, Hallie in the lead. They’re so close to the banners framing the pitch that the weighty fabric is rippling in their wake, she reaches out a hand but the snitch jinks right; away across the pitch. She follows after knocking her speed to half, still turning wide but less so than at top speed, noting from the corner of her eye that Diggory was further away from the wall and has room to kick a hitch, turning in place unlike her.

Hallie’s eyes track the snitch’s direction and she opens the acceleration wide again, roaring across the pitch as Diggory closes, the grass fluttering in her wake.

Fine. She thinks as the snitch flies up and over the Slytherin stands. You want to go head to head? Let’s go head to head then.

She rolls into Diggory’s path, blocking his view as she chases the snitch into a climb, feeling the drag of the air and not caring in the slightest as she follows the little golden ball.

It’s going to jink again. She realises, not a split second before the snitch turns straight to the right.

Hallie kicks a hitch without hesitation, narrowly missing Cedric’s head as he catches up to her at speed, and then sprinting off as the little golden ball flies towards the Gryffindor stands, Hallie having gained a few feet on her opponent.

Nowhere for it to dodge here. She realises as the snitch skims the heads of the crowd. The only way it can go is up or out.

The snitch chooses up as it meets the wall of the Professor’s stand, and so does Hallie.

The little golden ball speeds up the side of the rich fabric wall, its tiny wings flap like mad and Hallie gives her broom a little extra burst of speed, her hand closing around the cold golden metal right in front of Sirius’ face.

“POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” Lee Jordan yells. “GRYFFINDOR WINS TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO SIXTY! THEY ARE THE QUIDDITCH CUP CHAMPIONS!”

Hallie hovers in front of the stand, reaches out, and gives Sirius a one-armed hug with the snitch held high in her other hand.

*~*

The morning the Hogwarts Express departs from Hogsmeade station the Gryffindor Quidditch team are still being showered in accolades by their house-mates.

“Bloody hell.” Ron mutters as Hallie ducks into their cabin, pulling Ginny with her by the hand and trying to shake glitter out of her dark hair. “That lot are mad!” He says, as Ginny shuts the door.

“Some of the boys are mad she’s not interested!” Ginny laughs.

“Ew.” Hallie makes a face and ruffles her own hair, pulling a few strands in front of her and picking at some miniature foil lions. “It’s going to take me a year to get all this out.” She moans.

“Why bother then?” Ginny laughs again, grabbing Hallie’s shoulders and turning her to help pick the glitter out. “You’re just going to win the cup again.”

The train squeals momentarily as it pulls away from the station and the four of them shake, Ginny’s hands on Hallie’s shoulders to steady herself before the ride smooths out and she goes back to trying to remove glitter from Hallie’s hair using her fingernails.

“You writing a letter, Hermione?” Hallie asks, for the first time noticing that her friend is scratching away at a small piece of parchment. “It’s the end of term.”

“I know.” Hermione keeps writing. “I’m writing to the Ministry to set up a date and time to hand in my time turner.

“Not taking every class next year?” Ron asks.

“I don’t see the point.” Hermione signs the letter with a flourish and blows on it to dry it before rolling it up and tucking it into an inside pocket. “Muggle studies is a joke, it’s more out-dated than I thought possible. And as much as I love seeing Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures, it’s just not a field that interests me.”

“What about Divination?” Hallie asks.

“Hogwash.” Hermione rolls her eyes. “I’m sure there are real seers out there, but I’m also quite sure that old bat isn’t one.”

“Hermione speaking ill of a teacher?” Ron laughs and Hallie snickers, Ginny tugging gently on her hair to keep her still while not attempting to hide her smile. “Will wonders never cease?”

*~*

“Sybill?” Remus knocks and opens the door. “I’ve just finished packing up before I take the floo back to London, would you like any help packing up?”

“Oh that would be a blessing.” Sybill Trelawney smiles kindly at him. “Could you help me with the crystal balls? I’ve never quite had the hang of a controlled mass summoning charm.”

With a wave of his wand, Remus gently summons all the crystal balls arrayed throughout the classroom to their shelves and goes to close the dust shutter when he spies a blank space.

“Oh I missed yours.” He turns to see his fellow teacher blank eyed, her voice hoarse as she points at him and rasps words infused with power.

“The Dark Lord moves wheels within wheels. Compassion will lead a killer to walk free while an innocent fills his soulless grave. The Dark Lord will rise greater and more terrible than ever before, she and hers will stand against him, should caution prevail a kinder future is all but assured.” She gasps for breath, a noise that sends chills down Remus’ spine. “Instincts can lie. Hone them to see the truth in falsehood.”

Her eyes uncloud and she sees Remus’ worried face.

“Oh, whatever is wrong dear?” She asks.

Remus sprints from the office and towards the Headmaster’s tower.

*~*

“What on Earth is that?” Hermione asks. Hallie looks out of the window and sees an owl tumbling in the train’s wake.

“Get the window.” She jumps to her feet, Ginny unlatching it for her as she reaches out with both hands and scoops the poor creature from the air.

Ginny relatches it as Hallie deposits the owl on the table and smooths down its heavily ruffled feathers before she pulls the scrap of parchment from its leg.

“Hallie.” She reads aloud. “As you know I’ve been back in London getting my family place cleaned up. I’ll pick you up from the station, Remus has to stay a few more days at Hogwarts since something came up. Looking forward to getting to spend time with you as a free man. See you soon, Sirius.” She smiles and notices a hastily scratched in post-script. “P.S. The bird is for Ron, since I am a little responsible for his ending up with a murderous coward for a rat. She’ll answer to any name you give her.”

“Any thoughts?” Hallie asks, passing Ron the parchment to see for himself.

“Not one.” He confesses. They all look at the owl as it recovers a quite regal appearance as it’s feathers are no longer ruffled into a total mess by the train’s slipstream.

“Pinafore?” Ginny suggests. The owl hoots and that matter is quite settled.

Hallie leans back in her seat and rests her head on Ginny’s shoulder.

Chapter Text

Hallie Potter wakes up screaming.

She gasps for breath as she sits up quickly in her small room at her Godfather’s house in York, reaching out a shaky hand to nab her glasses from the bedside table and slipping them on so she can see the room around her.

There’s a quiet knock at the door and it’s opened by neither of her uncles, but a pale, kind woman with bright pink hair.

“Bad night Hallie?”

“A bit.”

Hallie casts a long look at the window and the bright full moon plain in the sky.

“Talk about it?”

Hallie casts an unsure look at her room’s guest.

Nymphadora Tonks is Sirius’ cousin to some degree -Hallie doesn’t follow the strange and looping family tree of the Black family particularly well-, but she is trustworthy. And most importantly for their friendship, Tonks knows what it’s like to have a bad night.

“Chamber.” Hallie huffs.

“Ginny still asleep?” Tonks sits on the foot of her bed and Hallie nods.

“Yeah, she’s dreaming about Quidditch.”

In the back of her mind, Ginny scores a goal in her dream, the uniforms on her fellow players a strange combination of the Gryffindor house colours and the Holyhead Harpies, the kind of contradictory amalgamation only possible in a dream.

“That girl loves Quidditch.” Tonks laughs. “I had a girlfriend on the team when I was at Hogwarts, she played beater, those arms…” She imitates swooning and Hallie laughs softly.

“You know Sirius is trying to set you up with Remus right?”

It’s Tonks’ turn to laugh.

“Well, Remus does have that whole tall, dark, and gruff look…” Hallie snorts with laughter.

“You’re considering it?” She asks.

“Merlin no!” Tonks giggles and her hair flashes pink-blue-green-red and settles on purple. “Besides, Sirius isn’t serious.”

“Is he polyjuiced?” Hallie raises an eyebrow.

“A mouth that smart will get you into trouble at school.” Tonks points a finger at her nose in a threatening manner and does her best Professor McGonagall impression. “I will not tolerate wordplay Miss Potter, you need to be serious!”

“But I’m not Sirius, I’m Hallie.”

Tonks laughs and Hallie feels the dark mood start to lift a touch.

“Thanks for staying here while Remus is having an outside night.” She says softly, then flinches. “Damn.”

“What’s up?” Tonks looks at her in concern and Hallie tries her best to ignore the outside world for just a second, trying to push Ginny’s dreams back into Quidditch.

It’s no use, there’s a bite and a phantom pain and then Ginny wakes up on the other end of their link.

Hallie?

I’m here. Hallie says, giving Ginny her full attention. Promise I’m here, I was already awake.

“Gin woke up.” She whispers to Tonks. “Another bad night.”

“Oh the two of you…” Tonks shakes her head. “I was already in service when I had my first close call and it wasn’t anything like what you dealt with.”

“Auror department don’t get called for many Basilisk infestations?” Hallie asks sardonically.

“If we do, I don't get to go on them, and we're not taking twelve year olds.” Tonks shrugs. “I’ve been caught with a few bad curses though. Someone hit me with a Cruciatus once.”

Hallie’s mouth drops open in horror.

“Wha-.”

“Only brief.” Tonks holds up her hand. “It’s not pleasant though. Probably about on par with Basilisk venom.”

“Basilisk venom feels like fire.” Hallie mutters, flexing the fingers of her right hand in memory. “Felt like someone had poured fire into my veins.” She pulls the collar of her loose shirt aside and shows Tonks the silvery-smooth scar tissue left by Phoenix tear healing. “Went in there at the shoulder.”

“Damn.” Tonks gives a low whistle. “Pretty wicked scar at least, some girls really dig scars.”

I might be one of those girls. Ginny’s voice in her head has Hallie blushing and Tonks grins.

“Ginny a one of those girls by any chance, Potter?”

“She- uh. She might be.” Hallie’s blush gets fiercer.

“Might she.” Tonks’ eyes flash yellow. “You know the last time I saw her she told me about a little promise you made her. Something about her first kiss?”

“Oh she did, did she?” Hallie feels something come to mind and on the other end of the bond Ginny blushes.

Hallie don’t you dare.

“Did she tell you about-”

Hallie don’t you DARE!

“-the first time she snuck out to steal a broom?”

Hallie, I'll kill you.

No you won’t.

Tonks’ eyes absolutely light up.

“She did not!”

“Well.” Hallie sits up and makes a show of stretching her back out. “She goes out to the broom shed in the dead of night. All quiet, can’t make a noise or her Mum will hear. She’s oh so careful, tiptoes out to the shed…”

I’m never talking to you again.

You’re talking to me now.

Shut up!

Tonks looks at her enraptured.

“So she takes Charlie’s old Cleansweep.” Hallie grins lazily, savouring Ginny’s embarrassment. “She mounts up, kicks off as hard as she can…” She pauses, dramatically. “Then straight over onto her face, absolutely covered in mud, so she panics, right, can’t let her Mum know about this!”

Tonks laughs like she’s never heard anything so funny in all her life.

I hate you so much. Ginny mutters in her head.

I love you too. Hallie responds.

I thought you weren’t saying that until we were on the train! Ginny teases.

“So there’s little 9 year old Ginny.” Hallie continues her story. “It’s midnight, she’s covered in mud, she’s holding Charlie’s old broom, and she thinks ‘well I can get this mud off in the pond!’ so off she runs, cannonballs into the pond, but forgets she’s still holding the broom. So she winds up in the pond, covered in wet mud, holding a broomstick, and her Dad finally comes out of the house to see what all the noise is about.”

Tonks is almost gasping for breath and Ginny is very sullen in the back of her head.

This is SO overkill for me telling her you promised me my first kiss on the train.

Aw Gin you know me. Hallie laughs softly, eyes unfocussed, and doesn’t realise that Tonks is looking at her with a smile as the world falls away outside of the girl in her head. I don’t do things halfway.

That had better extend to my kiss, Potter!

I’ll do my best.

“What happened next?” Tonks asks.

“Well her Dad thought she’d crashed, so he rushes her inside, cleans her up, makes her promise and swear up and down never to ever do that again.”

“Did she listen?” Tonks asks with a hum of amusement.

“Of  course not.” Hallie laughs gently, eyes soft and full of love. “She wouldn’t be Ginny if she did.”

Tonks ruffles her hair and Hallie whines.

“What did I do?”

“You’re Sirius’ Goddaughter all right.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “Now come on, we have to be awake early tomorrow, it’s World Cup time!”

“I guess.” Hallie lays back down. “Thanks for the talk Tonks.”

“Any time.” Hallie’s quasi-cousin gives her a thumbs up and heads out of the room, closing the door behind her as Hallie lays in the darkness.

I’m going to get you back for this. Ginny’s voice in her head is huffy and Hallie smiles as she closes her eyes.

How?

Maybe I’ll tell Tonks about what happened the first time you tried to kick a hitch.

Ginny please.

You started this Hallie.

What? No I didn’t! You told her about the kiss!

Well maybe you’d better move that timetable up or certain information won’t remain between us.

You’re way too good at blackmail.

*~*

“Hallie!”

The previous night seems not to matter much as Hallie and Tonks open the Weasley’s front door the morning of the World Cup, as a redheaded girl quickly launches herself into Hallie’s arms.

“Hey Gin.” She wraps her arms around the redhead's waist. “You’re happy to see me, it’s only been a week or so!”

“You’re my ticket to the World Cup,” Ginny responds with a grin, “we can’t go until you’re here.”

That’s the only reason? Hallie hums inside her head. You’re sure?

Only one I’ll admit to. Ginny bats her eyelashes up at Hallie. Unless someone wants to, say, force my hand?

Hard bargain, Weasley. Hallie teases.

Then she brings her hand up to cup Ginny’s chin and kisses her softly.

It’s just a peck really, not the sort of deep, intimate lip-lock that lots of older students engage in at school when they think nobody's looking. But even so it feels right. Their lips press together softly and Hallie hums in the back of her throat.

How’s that, Weasley?

I’d say that counts.

A hand pats Hallie on the shoulder and she jumps, finding Tonks grinning and pointing with her other hand.

Hallie stands up on her tip-toes to look over Ginny’s head and sees both Hermione and Mrs Weasley watching them.

“H-hi.” She stutters. “‘M-Mione, Mrs Weasley.”

Ginny turns in her arms seemingly without a care.

“Hallie and Tonks are here Mum! Can we go now!?”

“Come here young lady!” Mrs Weasley’s turn brooks no argument but Ginny still seems unconcerned, pulling Hallie by the hand up to her mother.

“Yes Mum?” She asks, sweetly.

Hallie chances a glance at Hermione and sees a smile warring with disapproval.

“I saw that.” Mrs Weasley folds her arms. “And don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here!”

Okay this could be going much worse! Ginny says brightly in their heads. Hallie gives her a concerned sideways glance.

How?

It’s Mum. Ginny shrugs a little, just enough for Hallie to see it. I thought it would be a coin-toss between barring us from touching or planning our wedding.

“There is to be no funny business on this trip!” Mrs Weasley says sternly. “Your father has set up the tent so it’s girls on one side and boys on the other, and if I hear a single thing from that side of the tent!”

“Mum we won’t!” Ginny protests, Hallie has to stifle a small laugh at seeing the normally fairly composed Weasley daughter sound like she’s pouting.

“You’re right you won’t!” Mrs Weasley glowers briefly. “Merlin knows I trust you more than any of the boys, Ginevra, but I won’t hesitate to make one of you sleep outside!”

You heard her, Ginevra. Hallie can’t resist. No funny business at all!

Ginny releases her grip on Hallie’s hand to smack her shoulder.

Before more of a fuss can be made, Fred -or George- sticks his head in the doorway.

“Mum!” He says, scandalised. “What’s this I hear about you not trusting any of us as much as you trust ickle Gin-Gin!”

Ickle Gin-Gin. Hallie repeats, dryly.

Shut it, Harper Josaphine Potter.

You know that’s not actually my name, right?

It will be when I’m done with you.

What does that even mean?

“You’re right I don’t.” Mrs Weasley turns her gaze on whichever of the twins it happens to be and whips out her wand. “Accio!”

Sweets of all kinds fly from the boy’s pockets as panic strikes his face.

“Mum!”

“I thought I told you these were to be destroyed! ” She shouts. Hallie looks at Hermione standing in the corner of the room and sees she has her head in her hands.

It takes a very long time for the twins to be divested of their sweets, and an even longer one to walk up to the Portkey.

“Mrs Weasley.” Hallie asks as they walk, she's near the back of the pack with Ginny and her mother, behind Hermione and Ron and the twins, then Bill, Tonks, and Charlie while Mr Weasley leads the way.

“Yes dear?” The kindly witch picks her way around a rock.

“Did you or Mr Weasley play Quidditch at Hogwarts?”

“Oh Arthur didn’t.” Mrs Weasley smiles as they walk along. “He was so deeply invested in his Muggle Studies and Charms. He’s really fantastically good at Charms, much better than me I must say.” She smiles and looks at her husband leading their hike. “I played though, the boys and Ginny get their Quidditch addictions from me I’m afraid.” She looks fondly over the motley caravan of assorted redheads.

“What position did you play?” Hallie asks, eyes wide.

“Mum played chaser.” Ginny pipes up. “Only Bill, Percy, and Dad didn’t play for Gryffindor.”

Mrs Weasley laughs brightly as Ginny lists off her family members.

“You’ll notice she doesn’t include herself or Ron there.” Mrs Weasley tells Hallie. “Ginny is very sure she’s going to play chaser and her brother will become keeper this year and next.”

“It’ll be hard to replace our current chasers.” Ginny shrugs, although Hallie already knows all of this, they’ve both talked and dreamed about it often. “But I know I can get on as a reserve, and next year Angelina might focus on her studies instead of playing again. And Ron has had tons of practice playing Keeper!”

“Ginny could get any position she wants.” Hallie says, smiling. “She’s pretty good.”

“Better than you?” Ginny teases.

“I don’t know about that.” Hallie raises her eyebrows. “Some say I’m the best seeker Hogwarts has seen in a century.”

“Hmm.” Ginny matches Hallie’s raised eyebrow by raising her voice. “Hey Charlie!” She calls up the column of red-heads. “Hallie thinks she’s a better seeker than you!”

Charlie turns his head with faux-scandal on his face.

“The cheek! I won a championship you know!”

“I’ve won two!” Hallie calls back, grinning.

“Oh that’s a good idea!” George -or Fred- breaks in. “When we get back to the Burrow, let’s see who wins!”

Mr Weasley looks a touch exasperated but Mrs Weasley is smiling wider than Hallie has ever seen, and it clicks for her exactly where Ginny got her competitive spirit from.

*~*

The top box at the Quidditch Stadium hosting the World Cup is incredibly windy, but once they’re all sat down and shielded by the overhang over the vast golden stadium even the encounter with Malfoy can’t dampen Hallie’s mood.

“There will be a display by national mascots first.” Hemione reads off her program.

“Always worth watching!” Mr Weasley says. Tonks nods in agreement.

“Native creatures from their home countries.” She says, grinning wide. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and the Bulgarians will bring some Veela!”

“Veela? Tonks! Don’t you go corrupting my Goddaughter!” Calls a familiar voice.

“Sirius!” Hallie yells, jumping out of her seat to hug him.

“Hey there.” Sirius embraces her with a grin a mile wide. Freedom absolutely suits him, in Hallie’s opinion. He looks healthy and happy, and with a roguish glint in his eye.

“How do you know they’d have any effect on her?” Tonks asks him as he takes his seat, between her and Hallie.

“Godfather’s intuition.” Sirius laughs, pointing at the fact that Ginny and Hallie have already leaned their heads together, Hermione on Ginny’s left leafing through her program despite the noise.

A voice booms over the stadium silencing everything.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and those of us -myself included- who use neither label!” It says. “Welcome! To the finals of the four hundred and twenty second Quidditch World Cup!”

There’s a roar from the crowd, nearly deafening.

“Who are we supposed to root for?” Hermione shouts, into Ginny’s ear.

“I’m rooting for Ireland!” Hallie hears Ginny say. “Hallie is on for Bulgaria since Ukraine is out!”

Before Hermione can ask another question, the voice comes up again.

“Before the match can begin!” It says. “Allow me to introduce first, our commentators!”

One of the magical screens that had been displaying advertisements flickers to a live feed of a pair of people in a box, both in sharp suits. One a well-built Egyptian man with thick shoulders, and the other an androgynous person with a wiry build and a sharp fan of light hair over one eye.

“I am Ari Ainscough!” Says the voice, and the wiry person moves. “And this is Fukayna Al-Magrahbi!”

“They’re both Quidditch legends!” Hallie hears Ginny explaining to Hermione. “Ainscough won the cup with the Norwegian team seven years in a row! They’re one of the best seekers ever to touch the game! And Al-Magrahbi holds twenty five lifetime records for beater performance!”

“Refereeing for us in this match will be the venerable Hassan Mostafa!” Ari’s voice, loud and clear and carrying a definite Scandinavian lilt. “Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch!”

Dozens of metres below them, a man in bright golden robes walks onto the pitch with his broom over one shoulder, standing proud next to the golden box.

“A fair and terrifying referee!” Al-Magrahbi’s voice rumbles through the stadium. “Neither team will dare resort to dishonourable tactics in front of him.”

“Indeed!” Ari laughs brightly. “And now, to see them on, the mascots of our finalists! From Bulgaria!”

A dozen women walk onto the pitch, and Hallie’s mind almost goes blank. Next to her, she’s aware of Ginny, Sirius, and Tonks all standing up for a better view. They’re the most stunning women she’s ever seen, she wants to get closer, get a better view. If only she had her Thunderbolt she could fly down to the pitch, they remind her so much of Ginny …

The music she hadn’t noticed was playing stops suddenly and a good portion of the stadium comes back to awareness, hurrying to sit back down.

“Thought that would get you two!” Sirius laughs. “Oh and you Nymphadora!”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora!” Tonks’ hair goes a shade of angry red. “And they got you too!”

“I’m not ashamed to admit it!” Sirius smiles and turns to his side.

“So Hallie, what did they make you think of?”

“Ginny.” Hallie answers without thinking about it. “Why?”

Sirius roars with laughter and Tonks joins him.

“Oh that’s precious.” He gasps. “I’m not even going to tell you I’m just going to make Remus teach you about Veela this year!”

“Rude.” Hallie grumbles. Tonks leans over Sirius and puts an elbow in his stomach to explain.

“Veela are sirens, Hallie. They lure in anyone with an attraction to women with inhuman beauty and some magical singing. They make you think of the thing you love the most.”

And you thought of me. Ginny sounds unbearably smug.

You thought of me! Hallie fires back.

Nah I thought of Gwenog Jones.

Cheeky! Hallie skims her memories quickly. And not even true!

“And now!” Ari’s voice rings out. “The response from Ireland!”

A green comet enters the stadium, splitting into a hundred million shards before a rainbow forms in the air and gold rains down, clattering around the stadium in piles that have the audience scrambling to pick it up before it dissolves in their hands.

“Wonderful!” Ari’s voice again. “And as the mascots settle down to watch the match, let me introduce you to the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you…! TSAREVETS FORTRESS ON A BROOMSTICK! ZOGRAF!” A man in scarlet robes on a light, tan-coloured broomstick shoots into the stadium, moving so fast he’s little more than a blur. He kicks a hitch effortlessly, spinning the broom lengthways and doing quite the spectacular handstand as he falls before he retakes control and flies upwards,  hovering in the centre of the stadium. The roar from the Bulgarian fans builds like a tsunami.

“PRIDE OF THE HARPIES! IVANOVA!” A second player in scarlet robes spears from the tunnel, riding a broom Hallie is deeply familiar with.

“That’s a Thunderbolt.” She yells sideways, into Sirius’ ear as he nods. “But not like mine.” She points. “Look at the twigs, they’re Birch. Tighter turning.”

Ivanova hangs next to Zograf, and Ari’s voice makes the air vibrate again.

“DIMITROV!” Another player in red, again riding a Thunderbolt like Ivanova's with birch twigs.

“AND ROUNDING OUT THE BULGARIAN MIDFIELD POWERHOUSES! LEVSKI!” A third birch-twigged Thunderbolt, it’s multi-coloured goblin-forged stirrups and twig-rings glinting under stadium lights.

“They’ve coordinated their chaser’s brooms!” She can hear Ginny yelling to Hermione next to her. “So they can always match pace! It’s to help with making plays like a Porskoff ploy at professional speeds!”

She doesn’t get a chance to say more because Ari’s voice shakes the stadium again.

“And now! Bulgaria’s DEADLY BEATER DUO! VULCHANOV AND VOLKOV! THIS MATCH WILL BE A SHOWDOWN BETWEEN THE HEAVYWEIGHTS!”

The golden stadium shakes with the noise as two more scarlet blurs speed onto the field on heavy-looking brooms augmented with black iron and heavy bats slung over their shoulders, the Bulgarian fans yelling their appreciation.

“Those are the new brooms I was telling you about!” Hallie leans sideways to yell into Sirius’ ear so she can be heard at all, he nods appreciatively. “There’d been rumours for months leading up to the Cup! Ellerby-Spudmore’s Atlas Special!”

The brooms do look heavy and lethal, glinting darkly in the stadium lights as Bulgaria starts a parade lap. But there’s still a member they're missing.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!” Ari’s voice fills the stadium. “THE BULGARIAN WUNDERKIND! VIKTOR KRUM!”

A thin, willowy seeker blitzes into the stadium and the Bulgarian fans let out such a roar that the building shakes , Hallie among them. One of the magical screens gives a close-up of him. Pale and with short-buzzed hair. His broom is dark, a pitch-hued blur underneath his billowing scarlet robes as he effortlessly catches his team and leads them on their parade-lap like a speartip.

“That right there is why Hallie is supporting Bulgaria now that Ukraine is out!” Ginny yells to Hermione, her hand cupped to her mouth and around Hermione’s ear. Hallie only knows what she’s saying because she can hear the words in Ginny’s head. “The best seeker in the world!”

Hallie watches as Krum makes kicking a hitch look like art, dropping into a blistering vertical dive for showmanship before Bulgaria forms up in starting formation on their side of the pitch, the beaters high and back to each side, three chasers spread in midfield, the keeper at his hoops, and Krum hanging above it all like a watchful hawk.

“AAAAAAAAAND NOW!” Ari’s voice seems to have been dialed up even more. “THE IRISH! WITH THEIR STAR CHASERS! TROY! MULLET! AND MORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Three emerald blurs speed into the stadium in such tight formation they could be holding hands. The air behind them ripples with wash and as they pass one of the screens it flips from a close-up of their flight to a blistering green displaying the first words of the Irish National Anthem in a stark white.

Soldiers we are, whose lives are pledged to Ireland.

The Irish fans -a good two thirds of the stadium- go ballistic , the entire pitch seems to shake under the veritable wall of noise and Ginny has to wait until it’s calmed down to turn her head and shout to Hermione.

“And that’s why I’m supporting Ireland! They’re the best there’s ever been!”

“NEXT UP!” Ari’s voice again quiets the crowd. “THE KEEPER WHO JUST THIS TOURNAMENT HAS SET AND BROKEN THE RECORD TWICE FOR THE MOST SAVES IN A SINGLE GAME IN WORLD CUP HISTORY, RYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

A lone figure rides out onto the pitch at breakneck speed, then stands up on his broom to pump up the capacity crowd with wild arm gestures before taking his place in front of his hoops.

“Thank you, Barry, for the crowd work there.” Ari’s chuckles are magnified by their wand at their throat, and the crowd seems to follow suit. “And please keep putting your hands together everybody! Because coming in next, we have Ireland’s ROCK! SOLID! DEFENSIVE LINE! THE BUTCHERS OF KILKENNY! CONNOLLY AND QUIGLEY!”

Two beaters fly on from the Irish gate at a sedate pace, compared to their fellows. Heavy bats are held at their shoulders and Hallie knows that on their brooms there are notches for their ‘kill-count’ of enemy beater duos who have been taken out of the games entirely this tournament.

“AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST!” Ari’s voice rings out. “THE MAN WHO HAS KEPT IRELAND'S WHEELS TURNING! LYYYYYYYYYNCH!”

Lynch rides in on the wave of noise like he’s surfing it on his Firebolt. He looks almost too buff to be a seeker, well-built and heavy like a bruiser, not at all like the thin, speedy Krum.

Ireland form up opposite their Bulgarian counterparts, and the golden-robed Mostafa down on the pitch speaks with his wand held to his throat.

“IRELAND!” He declares, in a voice that commands respect. “BULGARIA! I WOULD HAVE YOUR CAPTAINS SHAKE HANDS.”

Moran and Ivanova both enter into steep dives, the wind whipping at their robes before both women pull up to dismount next to Mostafa. They shake hands cordially, and then to a chorus of cheers Moran pulls Ivanova into a quick kiss and ties a red bandana around the Bulgarian’s head before they both split and fly off.

“They’re married!” Hallie hears Ginny explaining to Hermione. “They both play for the Harpies! The bandana is a ritual thing they normally do before their games!”

On the pitch, Mostafa huffs a begrudging smile beneath his mustache, kicks the crate open, grabs the Quaffle, and mounts his broom as the bludgers fly off and the snitch disappears out of sight.

He tosses the Quaffle up, and the game starts.

Ireland immediately grab possession with a speed Hallie is jealous of.

Ari’s voice fills the air non-stop from the second the game begins.

“Troy opens, to Mullet, fakes to Moran, back to Troy- an intercept from Levski! Retaken by Moran! Back to Mullet, Ivanova intercepts! Countered by Mullet! IRELAND BREAKS THE LINE!”

As they yell those words, a lone green figure on a firebolt streaks like an arrowhead towards the Bulgarian hoops, a scarlet-robed beater hammers a bludger at them, but it gets intercepted by one of the Irish beaters.

“Mullet goes head to head with Zograf!” Ari yells. “It’s deflected- BUT MORAN!”

A roar of approval from the Irish fans fills the stadium as Moran -like lightning- follows her teammate in and grabs the deflected quaffle in mid-air, hurling it through the leftmost hoop.

“Zograf resumes play!” Ari yells. “Quaffle taken by Levski, Ivanova, Levski, Dimitrov, Ivanova again, Ireland looking to challenge, Porskoff initiated- intercepted by Troy! Ireland in possession!”

“The Bulgarian beaters are struggling.” Ari’s co-host Al-Magrahbi speaks for the first time, and while magically loud enough and quick enough to keep up with the action he still speaks with a calm, measured tone. “Ireland's defense of their chasers is airtight.”

“The battle of the heavyweight beaters indeed seems to be at a stalemate.” Ari says. “They seem to be very evenly matched, Bulgaria’s powerhouses aren’t able to overpower Ireland’s bedrock- Krum and Lynch are head to head!”

The entire stadium gasps as Krum and Lynch spiral downwards at breakneck speeds, locked in a twisting spiral with eachother as they hurtle towards the ground.

“It’s a feint!” Hallie yells. She stands up to look over the railing and smiles. “And Krum’s going to win!”

Not two seconds later, Lynch plows into the ground.

“Time out!” Yells Ari as Krum climbs into the air. They and Al-Maghrabi take the time to discuss the finer points of the deadlock between the beaters as Hermione looks over Ginny and gets Hallie’s attention.

“How did you know it was a feint?” She asks. “And how did you possibly know Krum would win?”

“The spiral.” Hallie answers. “Krum locked them into it with how he started his dive and he forced Lynch into matching his turn rate, that’s why he won, he could force Lynch right into the ground! Lynch had to take the bait to start, he knows Krum has better eyes than him and that he’s looking to catch early. But he couldn’t break out of the spiral even once he knew it was a feint because Krum would hit him!” She points at the Bulgarian seeker, hanging in place but clearly looking everywhere with deep attention. “Now he gets to actually look for the snitch uninterrupted, no Lynch to mark him and no plays he needs to interrupt! But he doesn’t have long! This is Lynch’s specialty!”

“His specialty is crashing?” Hermione asks, as Lynch gets back onto his broom to the appreciation of the crowd. Ginny takes over the explanation.

“His specialty is being able to walk it off! Krum can take most other seekers out of the game with tricks like that, but not Lynch! That’s why he’s the ‘man who keeps Ireland’s wheels turning’, he can take the punishment and stay in the game while their chasers keep the scoreline climbing.”

“So why are you rooting for Bulgaria, Hallie?” Hermione asks.

“Because Lynch’s other specialty is forcing people off the snitch when they’re both in chase!” Hallie yells as the crowd roars, the referee restarting the game. “And I think Krum is too good for that. I’m betting that he’ll catch it before the Irish chasers can pull the lead out too far!”

“That’s where the beaters come in!” Sirius yells to Hermione. “The Bulgarians so far have kept enemy chasers at bay with aggressive play! But Ireland’s beaters are too good at the defense! That’s why this is going to be so close!”

Despite looking for all the world like she wants to be able to take notes, Hermione nods as the game resumes.

“Bulgaria quick off the mark!” Ari’s superb commentating again fills the air. “Ivanova, intercepted by Moran, drops to Mullet- off to Troy, Troy breaks the line- Vulchanov turns- Connolly deflects! IRELAND SCORE!”

“That was smooth!” Ginny says approvingly.

“Bulgaria throws back into play!” Ari’s commentary seems even more animated. “Dimitrov, Levski, Ivanova, back to Levski- intercepted by Troy! Mullet, Moran, Troy, Mullet, Moran- MORAN LOSES IT TO IVANOVA!”

A scarlet-clad dart burns across the pitch pressed tight to her broom, Quaffle under her arm.

“Ireland looks to chase, Quigley hits for Ivanova- SHE DODGES!” On the pitch, Ivanova pulls her broom into a lengthwise flip and a bludger streaks past her face with centimetres to spare before she continues on.

“Ireland regroup! Connolly and Quigley tied up- Krum splits the Irish!” A crimson blur breaks the Irish chaser’s formation with a swooping dive, pulling away in a loop back up to searching height. “Ivanova one-on-one with Ryan- Heartshift double- NO, HEARTSHIFT TRIPLE-FAKE! IVANOVA SCORES!”

The magical screens show a handsome woman with a red bandana tied around her head in a close-up, she raises both hands in triumph and mimes blowing a kiss to Moran, whom the image switches to as she mimes catching it and drawing it to her heart before one of her teammates smacks her arm softly with a grin on his face.

“What an atmosphere on the pitch tonight!” Ari calls. “Ryan throws back into play, Ireland possession, Moran in the lead, Hawkshead, Griffith Gamble, Bulgaria accepts- Ivanova steals- Mullet, Dimitrov, Troy, Mullet, LEVSKI MAKES A BREAK!” A Bulgarian chaser emerges from the scuffle like a bullet, streaking across the pitch. “Levski one-on-one with Ryan! Dodges Connolly’s bludger- RYAN SAVES! Mullet, passes upfield to Troy, Mullet, Troy, Dimitrov grabs mid-pass, MORAN STEALS! Moran on the line- Vulkov intercepts- QUIGLEY COUNTERS! Moran head-to-head, dodges Ivanova- MORAN SCORES!”

The magical screens show Moran blowing a kiss in Ivanova’s direction, who responds with a bright grin and a laugh.

“Zograf throws into play, Dimitrov, Levski, Ivanova, Levski, DIMITROV BREAKS- MULLET WITH THE INTERCEPT! Troy, Moran, Mullet, Troy, Mullet one-to-one with Zograf, deflected, TROY FROM OUT HIGH! IRELAND SCORES!”

The magical screens display an older man with neatly-combed grey hair and mustache doing a celebratory handstand on his broom before it swaps back to the score.

Ireland: 40 - 10 :Bulgaria 

“Zograf re-enters the Quaffle, Levski, Ireland backing off to reset their pace, VOLKOV DOWN!” On the pitch the Bulgarian beater is knocked out of flight by a well-placed bludger to the nose of his broom. He spirals in a freefall, winded, but pulls out his wand to slow his fall. “Another notch for the Butchers of Kilkenny!” The Irish fans cheer at Ari’s announcement.

“A well played Rosskanov gambit.” Al-Magrahbi says. “He baited Volkov into hanging to scatter, and played with superb aim.”

“I’ll have to see the replay on that one!” Ari laughs. “Ireland turn up the aggression again! Troy, Mullet, Troy, Moran makes a break! Levski intercepts- recaptured by Mullet, Troy, Mullet, Troy, MORAN ON THE LINE! IRELAND SCORES! Zograf returns to play, Connolly MY LORD- MULLET!”

A bludger from on high knocks into the Quaffle right as Zograf throws it back into the game, slamming it into Mullet’s open arms mid-swoop, who spins it through the right-side hoop.

“A bludger-initiated half-Álvarez!” Al-Magrahbi whistles. “Astonishing!”

“Zograf back into play again, Levski, Ivanova, Moran takes- IRELAND SCORE! Zograf again, on to Levski, Ivanova, Levski, Moran steals, Mullet, Troy, Mullet, Moran, head-to-head again, IRELAND SCORE!”

“Ireland are using Bulgaria’s lack of a beater well!” Al-Magrahbi declares. “Connolly and Quigly have him entirely zoned, the chasers are free, they’re staying in Bulgaria’s half.”

“Why isn’t Krum breaking the chasers up more?” Hermione asks, as Ireland scores another goal.

“He can’t!” Hallie yells over the noise. “Lynch is still a very good seeker, he’s making Krum work for it, marking him constantly, Krum might try to fake him-.” As she says that, Krum makes a dive, splitting the scrum of chasers with Lynch following in his wake.

“Levski!” Ari calls as plays heat up. “Dimitrov, Levski, Ivanova, Levski- fakes Mullet, Ivanova again. Ivanova on the break! Ivanova head-to-head with Ryan- BULGARIA SCORE!”

Ivanova does a handstand in celebration, Moran blows her a kiss and takes her blonde hair out of its ponytail.

“Ireland in possession from Ryan’s throw.” Ari calls. “Mullet, Moran, Mullet, Troy, Mullet, Troy, Mullet goes for it! Deflected, caught by Dimitrov, MORAN!” On the pitch Moran has physically punched the Quaffle out of Dimitrov’s grasp with such force that it flies back through the left hoop while Mullet marks Zograf.

“Bulgaria reintroduce!” The commentary never falters. “Levski, Ivanova, Dimitrov, Levski- Mullet steals, Troy, Moran, Troy takes the head-to-head- deflected! Moran catches! Deflected again- TROY SCORES! Zograf throws to Ivanova, Levski, Ivanova, Lev- Moran! Troy, Mullet, Moran, Troy, Moran, Mullet takes the head-to-head, MULLET SCORES! Ireland’s chasers abusing that lack of beater! Back into play, Ivanova makes a break- Moran intercepts! Troy, Mullet, Troy, Ivanova captures! Dimitrov, Levski, Dimitrov, Ivanova, TROY! WHAT A STEAL! Moran into the box, IRELAND SCORE!”

Still no snitch! Hallie thinks.

Sorry love. Ginny responds as Ireland score once more and then again off the rebound. I think you’re out of time.

“Back into play!” Hallie tunes back into the commentary. “Moran, Levski steals, Ivanova, Levski, Ivanova, Dimitrov makes the break- HE’S PAST! Dimitrov on the line, Ryan takes the challenge, Krum tries to split- Lynch blocks! Dimitrov- RYAN SAVES.” The stadium roars its approval. “Troy on the move, Mullet, Moran, Mullet, Troy takes the head-to-head- LYNCH HAS SEEN IT!”

There’s another stadium-wide gasp as Lynch and Krum enter a dive side by side, pulling around the edge of the stadium in pursuit of a glint of gold.

“Lynch and Krum in a dead heat, Ireland score again!” As the Quaffle enters the hoop, Krum kicks a lightning-quick hitch as the snitch jinks, forcing Lynch to back off lest he hit the wall, then he powers towards the elusive golden glint at full speed, pressed flat to his broom, he reaches out a hand, he’s so close thinks Hallie, so so close to forcing a tie-.

“IRELAND SCORE!” Ari calls, just as Krum’s hand closes on the snitch. “And THERE, KRUM ENDS THE GAME!”

The magical screens display the final score.

Ireland: 180 - 170 :Bulgaria

“IRELAND ARE YOUR CHAMPIONS!” Declares Mostafa’s voice.

Despite losing, Ivanova flies right up to Moran and leaps on to her broom to kiss her senseless.

*~*

“I am very glad I’m not on duty!” Mr Weasley exclaims as the large group enter their tent and are safe at last from the cacophony outside. “Having to tell the Irish they've to stop celebrating must be a difficult task!”

“I’m sure they’ll quiet down soon.” Sirius smiles. “Maybe a week, or two. But they certainly won’t run dry!”

There’s a general groan at his joke, although Mr Weasley laughs heartily.

“Good one!” He sets about helping Mrs Weasley with some hot cocoa for them all. “Mind you they have every right to celebrate, those chasers, eh!”

They all accept their hot cocoa and end up strewn around the tent in their own little groups.

“Krum’s catch!” Ron gesticulates wildly, nearly dripping cocoa into Hermione’s lap as the four of them still at Hogwarts sit in a circle. “He caught it so quickly!”

“And yet he didn’t win.” Ginny says smugly, lifting her drink to her lips.

“Only because the snitch didn’t show quickly enough!” Ron argues.

“Sort of the mark of a good seeker to be able to seek out the snitch.” Hallie checks her nails and laughs. “But the way he flew in the chase was pure art!”

“What do you mean!” Ron demands hotly. “He’s the best seeker in the world! And you were rooting for Bulgaria too!”

“But the Irish chasers were better~!” Ginny sing-songs.

“I’m still a little confused.” Hermione’s voice breaks into the conversation, although she’s smiling like the rest of them. “Sirius said at some point the beaters were the deciding point, and the commentator did too!”

“Okay- okay, so- all tournament long Bulgaria’s beaters have kept the other teams chasers off their side of the pitch-.” Ron begins to explain the finer tactical points and Hallie shuffles sideways, bumping her hip into Ginny’s softly as they sit next to each other, legs crossed and warm drinks in their laps, drinking in the cozy atmosphere.

This is nice. Hallie thinks as their shoulders press together, watching their family and friends engaged in heated, friendly discussions.

It is. Ginny answers, warm contentment suffuses their bond and she sighs softly, head dropping onto Hallie’s shoulder. You know, I seem to recall that before we left this morning a certain girl gave me a kiss.

What about it? Hallie teases, taking a drink and enjoying the warm, sweet cocoa lingering on her tongue and sliding down her throat, warmth blooming in her chest.

I was just thinking I’d like another one. Ginny says, her head turns and her eyelashes flutter against Hallie’s cheek. By the time we get on the Hogwarts Express, I think I’d like to be able to call you my girlfriend.

I think that could be arranged. Hallie says, gentleness in her mental tone. Without thinking twice about it, she drains her drink, turns to her side, and presses her lips to Ginny’s.

The kiss is still gentle, they aren’t exactly going to go for a full-on snog in a tent containing both GInny’s entire family and Hallie’s Godfather. Hallie isn’t, anyway, Ginny seems fully content to do so. The hand not holding her drink comes up to cup Hallie’s chin, her lips part, her tongue pokes gently at Hallie’s lips-.

Ow! Comes the thought in their heads as Ginny hisses in pain and pulls away, shooting a dirty look at her brother.

“What was that for!” She hisses, folding her arms and shooting a steely glare at Ron.

“It wasn’t me!” Ron crosses his arms. “Blame Hermione!”

“I’m assuming neither of you wants to sleep outside!” Hermione, it seems, remembers Mrs Weasley’s threat a lot more clearly than Ginny does.

“What if I just want to snog my girlfriend!” Ginny argues, shifting herself into Hallie’s lap without fanfare.

Hi Gin.

Comfy.

I’m sure you are.

“Then wait until we’re on the train at least.” Hermione joins the folded arms club, looking very comfortable giving a bit of a lecture. “And you don’t have to be so, so… blasé about it!”

Ginny gives a hmph sound and gives Hallie a kiss on the cheek instead.

“Killjoy.” She mutters.

“I am saving you from yourself.” Hermione argues. “I’m being noble, it’s a Gryffindor quality. Now instead of rendering each other breathless, tell me what makes these chasers so good!”

It takes many hours of very active discussion of Quidditch rules and strategies, but eventually Hermione seems to get it, and everyone curls up in their corners of the magically expanded tent on thick rugs and under nice duvets, with Mr and Mrs Weasley taking the only actual bed in the magically expanded tent, and the twins beating Bill and Charlie in a rock-paper-scissors game for the rights to the bunk beds.

I wonder what it would be like. Hallie wonders as she lays side-by-side with Ginny, each under their separate blankets but close enough to reach out and touch if they wanted to. To play in that stadium, at that level.

I can see it now. Ginny’s eyes sparkle in her little blanket cocoon and Hallie finds it unbearably cute. Imagine if the two of us got to play for the Harpies! She conjures up a scene in her head and Hallie gladly contributes, the two of them walking a tunnel in dark green robes with a golden talon on the chest, flying out of a tunnel at breakneck speeds as their names are announced by a loud voice.

“Ivanova, Moran, Weasley, Jones, Rath, Rabban, and Potter!”

Here’s a question! Hallie smiles under her blankets, significantly less wrapped up than Ginny but still very cozy and warm. In a few years, when we graduate, there will be a lot of Gryffindor’s best up for grabs! Who’s your ideal England team for that World Cup?

Easy! Ginny retorts. Me, Katie, Alicia, Oliver, You, Fred, and George!

Imagine the commentary! Hallie laughs, a soft puff of air escaping her lips. Spinnet, Bell, Wood, Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and yet another Weasley!”

Bold of you to assume you won’t have my name by then! Ginny laughs with her. Get Fred and Goerge to marry Alicia and Katie, then Charlie could marry Oliver! The all Weasley World Cup team!

Already picturing us getting married? Hallie giggles.

You know for a fact I’ve been picturing that since I was five!

*~*

Hallie isn’t sure when they drift off to sleep, but she is woken by loud, desperate shouting.

“Hallie! Ginny! Ron! Up! All of you! Quickly!”

“Whu-wha?” Hallie can hear Ron flailing about in his blankets and she sits up sharply, still mostly in her clothes from the match, struggling back into her jeans and grabbing her wand.

“Need to get you all up and safe!” Mr Weasley says urgently. “Everyone, get dressed and get outside! Hurry!”

It’s a mad dash to the treeline under Mr Weasley’s direction, spellfire echoes around them, loud and random but near constant. Some of the spells snap like whips, others resound like gunfire, flames lance through the air.

“I’d hurry, if I were you.” Draco Malfoy lounging at the treeline as muggles are tortured. “You know they can tell Granger is a mudbloo- oof!”

Hallie decks him as they keep running.

Finally, when they reach a clearing, they stand there panting, short on breath.

It was a nice punch on Malfoy. Ginny’s voice in her head.

Thanks. Hallie wheezes out a laugh despite the lack of breath.

“What could possibly be funny?!” Hermione sounds outraged and Hallie can’t exactly blame her, but she lifts her bruised knuckles up, all the same.

“I got Malfoy.” She starts. “Right in the ja-.”

Pain pulses in her scar, raw and bright like vicious starlight.

“MORSMORDRE!”

It’s an incantation, shouted somewhere off in the distance, Hallie falls backwards, cracking her head on the hard packed dirt and unable to even register it over the feeling of someone pouring molten bronze into the lightning bolt on her forehead.

Through the vague haze of pain, she’s aware of something forming in the sky, a huge, gaping skull made of rippling mist, a snake curving from its mouth like a tongue. Its black eyes seem to bore into her, nothingness consuming her vision.

Hallie passes out, and she’s dimly aware of Ginny falling on top of her.

*~*

“Are you two sure you’re alright?”

Ron’s voice disturbs the rhythmic pulse of the Hogwarts Express on the tracks, Hallie looks up at him with tired eyes.

“Other than not getting much sleep lately? Yeah. Why?”

“You and Ginny have been awfully cuddly lately.”

In fairness, Ron isn’t wrong . Ever since the World Cup Hallie has felt herself drawn to Ginny’s presence even more than before. It’s not a new thing per se. She’s always felt more stable when she’s with Ginny, when they hold hands or when their shoulders touch, but lately they’re both craving it more and more, since they passed out under the dim, sickly light of the Dark Mark.

Even now, Ginny is laying atop her, Hallie’s back against the window, her feet resting up along the seat. Hermione had kindly stuffed her robes there to give Hallie a bit of a pillow and the two of them had pretty much immediately fallen into a light doze.

“So what if we wanna cuddle?” Ginny’s voice is slurred with sleep. “She’s my girlfriend you-.”

“It’s not about that!” Ron folds his arms. “I’m worried about you, you’re always tired, you’ve been hanging onto each other for days .”

“Wow, even Ron’s noticed.” Hermione’s rare sarcasm makes Ginny snort with laughter and Ron lapses into a sullen silence.

“I spent hours getting questioned by people from the Ministry the other night.” Hallie points out, stifling a yawn. “And Gin waited for me. That’s why we’re tired.”

“You were tired before that.” Ron grunts. “Look, I’m just worried, you’re my best friend and my sister for crying out loud!”

“I appreciate it Ron, I do.” Hallie looks at him as she rests her chin on top of Ginny’s head. “I’d never had people to look out for me before I met you and Hermione and your family. It’s nice.”

“We can take care of ourselves though, Ron.” Ginny huffs, closing her eyes again. She pokes Hallie in the side.

Wake me when we get to Hogwarts.

Will do, Gin.

Hallie misses Hermione’s eyes narrowing at the seemingly random poke and silent conversation, but she doesn’t miss the carriage door opening and the drawl from the blonde boy directed at her.

“What’s this! Blood traitor Weasel trying to Weasel her way into the Potter finances?” He laughs at his own joke, and after a couple of seconds Crabbe and Goyle behind him seem to get the message and chuckle like a pair of trolls at the back row of a comedy show. “You can’t be stupid enough to think anyone would like you, Potter.”

“I don’t buy my friends or my girlfriend, Malfoy.” Hallie opens her eyes and glares at him half-heartedly. “That’s really more your department.”

“What would you know?” Malfoy spits at her. “You were never taught real etiquette, you’ve no idea how a real wizard should behave among people of class.”

“Good thing I’m not a wizard then isn’t it.” Hallie gives him the middle finger, although he doesn’t seem to know what it means. “Maybe go and pay Parkinson to date you, then you won’t feel quite so jealous.” She yawns again and buries her nose in Ginny’s hair. “You’re boring me, Draco. Go and be somewhere else.”

“I suppose you’re going to try and enter Potter?” He swans away. “I hope you do, I’ll be happy to watch you die.”

Ron stands up and slams the door closed so hard the glass breaks, Ginny jumps awake in Hallie’s arms.

“Ron!” Hermione scolds him, she picks up her wand and swirls it. “Reparo!”

The glass shards fly as if backwards in time and condense in the door again, whole. She casts a concerned look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s such a bloody git!” Ron huffs. “Death threats, calling us blood traitors, saying those things about you! I don’t know why you haven’t hexed him ‘Mione, you’re way better than him at magic!”

“Because I don’t think it would solve anything.” Hermione answers primly. “I find it easy enough to ignore him.” She puts her wand away and smiles at him. “How about a game of chess, to pass the time?”

Soon enough they settle into it, and Ron’s bad mood lifts just a little bit between the chess game and the cauldron cakes that Hallie buys for them all to share.

*~*

By the time the soaking wet population of Hogwarts has filtered into the Great Hall, the sorting has happened, and the feast has been thoroughly demolished, Hallie and Ginny both feel a little bit better.

“You two seem more chipper!” Hermione says, as Ron nods with his mouth full of food.

“‘Eah, ‘s ‘ood!”

“Swallow, then speak.” Hallie reminds him dryly.

“Yeah, it’s good!” Ron repeats himself before taking another huge bite.

How does he not choke? Hallie thinks. He barely chews!

Beside her, Ginny narrowly avoids spraying water all over the table.

The food eventually disappears -a good portion of it into Ron-, and Professor Dumbledore steps up to his lectern to command the attention of the student body.

“I hope you have all enjoyed the meal!” He says, as rain batters against the tall, high windows at his back and the enchanted ceiling rumbles with the grandeur of a thunder god in full swing. “Before you all head away to bed, I am afraid I must make several announcements!”

The student body looks at him, with varying degrees of attention.

“The first!” Dumbledore says. “Is to happily announce that Professor Lupin will be returning to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year!”

Applause fills the hall, even some from Slytherin. Lupin is very well-liked. Hallie hasn’t seen much of her Uncle over the last week of summer, but she is very happy to see him in a spot he deserves at the head table. Dumbledore waits patiently for the applause to die down.

“The second!” He says. “Is a more regretful announcement! For I must tell you that the Quidditch Cup will not be held this year!” There are various noises of outrage from everyone, and Dumbledore holds up his hands for quiet. “Instead!” He says, voice seeming louder to compensate for the chatter. “Hogwarts will be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament!” There is a moment of stunned silence.

“You're joking!” Fred Weasley yells.

A smattering of laughter fills the hall as the tension breaks, Dumbledore smiles.

“No I am not, Mr Weasley! This august event has not been seen for a century! But this year it will once again grace the grounds of Hogwarts! The High Master of the Durmstrang Institute and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic will be arriving with their contenders for the tournament in October! I know you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests, as well as provide unwavering support for the Hogwarts Champion whenever they are selected! However!” His gaze pierces the hall. “I must tell you that the cooperating Ministries of Magic have determined that no person may participate at all if they are under the age of seventeen! I will personally be placing the age-line designed to prevent any such entries.” His gaze tracks up and down the Gryffindor table. “I must therefore humbly beg you not to waste your time if you are not over the limit.”

He claps, and the candles flare.

“With that said! I bid you goodnight! Off to bed with you all.”

*~*

“You’re not going to try and go in for it, are you Hallie?” Hermione asks worriedly as the girls sit around their dorm. Lavender and Parvarti are going through their usual bedtime routines -as well as catching up on gossip-, and Hermione is doing a ‘relaxing’ crossword.

Hallie sits cross-legged on her bed, shaking her head.

“No way. After the Basilisk I have enough nightmares.”

“Do you still get those?” Lavender looks up at her while applying some skin cream Hallie doesn’t know the name of. “It was years ago!”

“I haven’t forgotten about my near death experience at the hands of a Basilisk, no.” Hallie remarks, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry that my nightmares are such an inconvenience to you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Lavender holds up her hands in apology. “I just kind of… you know, hoped it had gotten better.”

Ginny’s pale, lifeless face swims in Hallie’s mind, Tom Riddle’s mocking laughter echoes after it.

“No.” She mutters. “They haven’t.” She turns to Hermione. “Why do you even think I’d try and enter?”

“Well you’re a bit of a thrill-seeker!” Hermione says. “Heaven knows you don’t take care of yourself in Quidditch.”

“I take calculated risks!” Hallie protests. “I’m just not the best at maths.”

Parvati laughs.

“My sister can go for a girl with a few scars, you know. Shall I put in a good word for you, Hallie?”

“Good luck with that.” Hermione snorts. “Hallie is very taken.”

“Already?” Lavender gasps.

“‘Mione why…” Hallie moans.

“Oh please.” Hermione shoots back. “It’s not like you and Ginny are hiding it, draped all over each other on the train, kissing every ten seconds…”

“Ginny Weasley?” Lavender pounces on that information like a cat playing with a new favourite toy. “She’s also Quidditch-mad isn’t she? Were you at the World Cup together?”

“Yes and yes.” Hallie folds her arms, listening to Ginny laughing at her predicament inside her own head. “But so was Hermione and I’m not dating her!”

Hermione makes a face at that and Parvarti laughs.

“Oh we all know you’re not Hermione’s type. But Ginny? She’s the one you saved from the Basilisk right? Oh how romantic!”

“Enough about the bloody Basilisk!” Hallie snaps. She stands up and walks off to brush her teeth. “It’s not exactly a happy memory!”

“You did make happy memories with Ginny at the World Cup though!” Hermione’s voice filters through to her and Hallie sticks her hand around the doorframe, middle finger raised, grinning despite herself.

Her dorm-mates laugh and in her head, Ginny does too.

To Hallie, that’s the most important thing.

*~*

The next day, there’s a pair of notes waiting for Hallie on her bedside table, pinned under her glasses. The first one, to her shock, is from Snape.

Miss Potter

Your suggestion last year has proven surprisingly usable. One can only hope this newfound aptitude is reflected in your grades in my class.

Professor Severus Snape.

Hallie doubts her grades in Potions will in any way improve, but at least Remus and other werewolves will get something out of it she thinks, reaching for the second note

Hallie

If you could please bring yourself and Miss Weasley to my office this morning after breakfast, I would most appreciate it.

Professor Dumbledore.

P.S. I enjoy Fudge Flies, on occasion.

Gmorning Hallie. Ginny seems tired but awake. That a note?

One from Dumbledore, one from Snape. Hallie replies. You?

I dunno. Hallie gets the vague sense Ginny has simply flopped back onto her pillows. Congrats on helping your Uncle though. Why did Dumbledore summon us?

Haven’t the foggiest. Hallie yawns and sits up. Her dorm-mates are still in their beds as she goes to brush her teeth, last night’s conversation flickering through her head.

Are you annoyed that they know? Ginny asks. When Hermione let it slip you seemed annoyed.

Only because they’re the gossip mongers of Hogwarts and everyone is going to stare at us. Hallie spits into the sink and goes back to brushing. It’ll be just like when I got here, when I was just ‘famous Hallie Potter’, constant stares.

Let them stare. Ginny says. Maybe the girls and boys will back off when they know you’re spoken for.

Hallie spits into the sink again and washes her mouth out, heading back into the dorm room proper to get dressed.

Didn’t flag you as a possessive girl Gin.

I have a gorgeous Quidditch star on my arm. Ginny teases. Why would I not show her off? Don’t worry, come next year I’ll be on the team and you’ll understand.

Hallie laughs loudly enough to wake up a rather grumpy Lavender.

*~*

Breakfast comes without much of an event, Hallie being up so early means that Ginny is too -against her best wishes-, and so they’re nearly alone in the hall when a handsome, dark feathered owl swoops overhead and drops a note into Hallie’s lap.

You’re popular this morning! Ginny notes as she presses several rashers of bacon between some bread to make a sandwich.

I know! Hallie says, her mental voice swimming in sarcasm. Three whole notes!

What’s it say then? GInny asks.

Hallie

Sorry I forgot about this! But since Remus is a teacher I asked him to slip me one of these the other night.

Enjoy Madam Puddifoot’s (if that’s still a thing Hogwarts girls go in for).

Sirius.

Below is a signed Hogsmeade Weekend permission slip, which Hallie hastily tucks into her robe to give to Professor McGonagall after she’s eaten.

He thinks you’re a Madam Puddifoot’s kind of girl? Ginny nearly spits out her bacon. Because I’m warning you now I will break up with you if you take me there.

No danger of that happening at all Gin! Hallie laughs. If I want tea I’ll go to Uncle Remus’ office, that shop is never, ever on my list.

The two of them finish their breakfast in short order, Hallie drops her signed permission slip with Professor McGonagall, and they hurry off to Dumbledore’s office before classes start.

*~*

“Hallie, Ginny, please come in.” Comes Dumbledore’s voice just as Hallie raises her hand to knock on his office door.

“You wanted to see us Professor?” Ginny says, as Hallie steps over the threshold holding her hand.

“I did, yes.” Dumbledore nods and gestures to someone else who had been hidden behind the door. A tall, pale, severe-looking woman with striking red hair, purple eyes, and a shallow scar on the left of her gaunt cheeks. “This is Aoife Byrne. Miss Byrne, Hallie Potter and Ginny Weasley.”

“Weasley.” Byrne narrows her eyes thoughtfully, and even in one word her Irish accent is immediately evident. “Wouldn’t happen to be related to Bill Weasley, would you?”

“You know my brother?” Ginny perks up.

“Miss Byrne is one of Gringotts foremost curse-breakers.” Dumbledore says. “You may recall some time ago I told you that Legilimency was an art practiced heavily by the followers of Lord Voldemort, and that I said I wished to find a tutor for you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Byrne cuts in, no-nonsense. “All curse-breakers are required to know basic Occlumency. I’m the one that teaches them.”

“Occlumency?” Hallie asks.

“Oh joy of joys, step one.” Byrne says. “Occlumency is the art of guarding your mind from a Legillimens -that is, someone capable of peering into your innermost thoughts-, it’ll also teach you how to identify if someone is in your mind, for good or ill. You’ll be meeting with me on Thursdays, no books to read and nowt to study, Occlumency is an art best learned practically.”

Thank Merlin. Hallie thinks.

*~*

“The key to effective Occlumency is to empty your mind!” Byrne looks over them both, arms folded. “But this is only a defense for so long. Thinking about that pearly whiteness that’s nowhere and nothing is a start. But it is the start. Who wants to go first?”

Neither Hallie or Ginny move immediately, and so Ginny is pointed to.

“Weasley, you’re up. Let’s see if you’re as good at this as your brother.” Byrne looks Ginny dead in the eye. “Concentrate on nothingness. Understood?”

“Okay.” Ginny nods. Hallie can feel her mind shift, trying to focus on nothingness.

“That’s a pretty good first attempt.” Byrne says, after a second, noting Ginny’s shocked expression. “What, you didn’t think I was already in your head? Let this be a lesson.” She holds up her hands to show her lack of wand. “Legilimency is one of the few branches of magic that doesn't require a wand to make it infinitely easier. What it does require to get started is direct eye contact. It does not require an incantation.” She shifts her eyes to Hallie. “Potter, your turn.”

Hallie immediately focuses on nothingness, meeting Byrne’s stare before her mind starts to wander to thoughts of Quidditch. She tries to focus on nothingness again, but thoughts of Quidditch invade her mind again.

“That’s you isn’t it!” She realises suddenly.

“Gold star.” Byrne says, smirking slightly. “This is the key to detecting a Legillimens in your head. If your thoughts start to wander where they have no business going. Legilimency is subtle and hard to use effectively. It requires direct eye contact, breaking it is easy enough, but thoughts are quick and gleaning information from them is easy. Learning to identify when someone is in your head is absolutely key. So!” She claps her hands together. “Let’s try this again.”

*~*

With the arrival of the carriage and ship -which Ginny thinks sounds like a good name for a seaside pub-, Hogwarts begins to play host to their competitors for the Triwizard tournament.

I really like their uniforms! Hallie thinks. All that thick fur and big coats. It looks comfy!

Ginny doesn’t respond and Hallie realises she’s daydreaming.

Gin? Hello?

You can’t put that thought in my head and expect me to stay present, Hallie. You in a high-collared fur-lined cloak and heavy boots…

Okay Weasley. Hallie laughs and slips her hand around Ginny’s waist, pulling her close as the crowd begins to move. Plenty of time to daydream later.

Too late, I’m daydreaming now. Ginny leans into her. You’d look very dashing…

Reckon they’d give me a uniform if I ask nicely? Hallie eyes the tall, thin, white-haired High Master Karkaroff as he strides among his students in a rich cream overcoat, his white hair extending out from under his hat and to a wispy goatee. He has eyes like chips of blue flint, pale and hard. He doesn’t seem like the generous type.

“Have you seen those two students he’s closest to?” Hermione whispers next to them.

“No?” Ron, the tallest of them, stands on his toes and then his eyes go wide. “Blimey! It’s Krum and Kovalenko! I didn’t know they were still in school!”

The crowd parts and Hallie gets her first clear look at Karkaroff’s closest-kept students.

Krum looks the same as he did at the World Cup finals, whip thin and intense, his lips in a dark scowl. His hair has grown a touch and is slicked back atop his head with an undercut. Kovalenko by contrast is much brighter, with golden-blonde hair pulled up into a chignon, she has the same rare yellow eyes as Madam Hooch and wears an easy smile, but Hallie thinks it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I only recognise Krum, but she’s placed equally.” Hermione says, standing on her toes again to see them. “Who is she?”

“She plays seeker for Ukraine.” Hallie tells her. “If you’d caught me earlier in the World Cup I was supporting them all the way.”

“I didn’t think Durmstrang was known for its Quidditch talent.” Hermione mutters as they still follow the crowd -not into the hall, Hallie realises, but around to a clear section of the lawn-.

“It’s not.” Hallie mutters. “Beauxbatons is though, Krum and Kovalenko trained there extensively, they’ve mentioned it in interviews. You saw their camp last summer, remember?”

“I didn’t do much looking at the Quidditch pitch to be honest.” Hermione rolls her eyes. “But speaking of Beauxbatons, look!”

Hallie follows her finger and sees a huge carriage pulled by a dozen winged horses come to what could generously be described as a firm landing.

A boy in a blue silk uniform exits the carriage, and despite his thin uniform he looks fine in the cold. He taps the carriage with his wand a few times, a set of stairs extend and then a woman who can only be the Headmistress of Beauxbatons walks regally down the stairs.

She is dressed opulently, in rich purples trimmed with spotted furs. Her small glasses glint like a snitch in sunlight, bright gold glittering. She looks as big as Hagrid, but carries herself with significantly more class and dignity than the highly knowledgeable game-keeper.

Karakroff strides up to her and offers her his hand with a thin-lipped smile, which she accepts a touch reluctantly.

Their moment is a touch undercut when a stunning silvery-blonde girl in a Beauxbatons uniform sprints out of the carriage and leaps into Kovalenko’s arms.

“Anastasiya!” She laughs happily, then shrieks slightly as she is lifted off the ground and swirled. “Ana! Mon dieu you have to put me down!”

“Forgive my excitement when I haven’t seen you in months .” Kovalenko’s smile definitely reaches her eyes now. She puts the girl down and makes a formal bow. “Mademoiselle Delacour, would you permit me to escort you inside.” She kisses the girl’s knuckles softly and Hallie smiles at them.

Goals. GInny declares inside her head, Hallie tightens her hand around her girlfriend’s waist.

Agreed.

Karkaroff seems not to agree quite so much and he snaps at his student harshly in a language Hallie doesn’t understand.

“Коваленко! Контролируйте себя!”

“Так, Високоповелителю.” Kovalenko snaps to attention, a sour look on her face, but her irritation eases when the other girl links arms with her and rests her head on Kovalenko’s shoulder.

Hogwarts’ main doors open with a deep rumble and out strides Professor Dumbledore in a fine-looking robe.

“High-Master Karkaroff, Headmistress Maxine.” He bows slightly. “It is my great pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts.”

*~*

Dinner with the other schools is a less cramped experience than Hallie expected, the tables and indeed the Great Hall appear to have subtly magically expanded, and while Durmstrang all cram onto the end of the Slytherin table -including a very annoyed looking Kovalenko, again separated from the blonde currently drawing a majority of the eyes in the hall-, Baeuxbatons students mingle freely throughout the hall, including a dark-haired boy with striking honey-coloured eyes who takes a seat opposite from Hallie.

“Hermione?” He asks the bushy-haired witch next to him. Hermione turns with shock that quickly fades into delight.

“Alain!” She embraces him and kisses both his cheeks. “Comment as-tu été! Je ne vous ai pas écrit autant que je devrais!”

“You speak French!?” Ron looks at Hermione like she’s grown two heads.

Hermione gives him a look halfway between ‘really, Ronald?’ and ‘what, you don’t?’

“I learned in school.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “But my accent isn’t the best.”

“ Non.” Alain corrects her, his smile charming. “Your accent is charming! But please, let us speak English, I would hate to alienate your friends.” He turns to his other side and grabs a surprised Ron, kissing both of his cheeks as he splutters slightly. “I am Alain Blánchet. I met Hermione when she took her tour.” His smile is quick and charming. “It is a pleasure.”

“R-Ron Weasley…” Ron seems a bit shell-shocked but Alain doesn’t seem to care. Ginny hides her laughter behind her hand.

Stop it! Hallie protests as she tries not to laugh. Stop it! It’s so hard not to laugh at him!

She reaches across the table to shake Alain’s hand and give Ginny some time to recover.

“Hallie Potter.” She introduces herself.

“A great pleasure.” Alain says sincerely, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “I have heard very much about you, Mademoiselle Potter, but I look forward to hearing more than the stories tell me.” He lets go of her hand after a second and takes Ginny’s across the table, which she shakes for him before he can go in for another knuckle kiss.

“Ginny Weasley.” She says, slipping her arm around Hallie’s waist. “I’m Hallie’s girlfriend .”

I’m starting to enjoy possessive Ginny. Hallie muses.

I’m not being possessive! Ginny says, despite eating one-handed as her other hand toys with the hem of Hallie’s robes. I’m just-

-staking your claim? Hallie suggests, smug.

Declaring my intentions. Ginny pokes her in the side and withdraws her hand again. Alain laughs and tucks in with the rest of them.

*~*

“I hope you have enjoyed the meal.” Dumbledore’s voice silences the hall and commands absolute attention. “But now, with the help of Messrs Bagman and Crouch.” He points to the heads of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and the Department of International Magical Cooperation respectively. “I shall reveal to you the method by which our three champions will be chosen!”

The huge doors open and in floats a large, tall box, encrusted with gold and jewels. It floats along the ground, seemingly without use of even Dumbledore’s magic, coming to rest in front of his lectern.

“Let me be clear.” Dumbledore’s voice rumbles, but he speaks calmly, despite the power suffusing his words. “The tasks undertaken by our three champions will test their magical prowess, their powers of deduction, their daring, and their ability to cope with the most dangerous of situations. It is not, for the faint of heart.”

He takes out his wand and points it at the tall box.

“Headmistress Maxine, High-Master Karkaroff, if you would join me please.”

The two other head teachers step up from the table with their wands drawn, each of them pointed at the box.

“Here, at last, we recommit to the Goblet!”  They all speak at once, their voices overlapping. “This tournament will return in glory, hereby we swear that each champion selected will give their utmost to these tasks. Their tests of cunning, of daring, and of ability will be legendary! With these tasks. No outside help will be levied to them, for in their individual tests of skill the bond between our schools and students will stand for a thousand more years, glory evermore to the victor!” There’s a rush of magic, a great boom, and the golden box melts, then reforms into a golden, jeweled cup burning with multi-coloured flame.

There’s a smattering of polite applause, and then Dumbledore swirls his wand in a circle, drawing a wispy white line around the goblet.

“That’s the age-line!” Hermione whispers.

Hallie doesn’t enjoy the looks on Fred and George’s faces.

*~*

The Goblet flares as dinner ends and Dumbledore raises his hands for quiet.

“If you please!” He calls, and the room gives him their undivided attention. “The Goblet, it appears, is ready to select for us our champions.” The multi-coloured flames flare like a burning rainbow and then a scrap of burned parchment is spat out into the air where it flutters gently before Dumbledore plucks it from the air.

“If your name is called!” He declares. “I will ask you please to exit to the side.” He points to a small door to the right of the staff table. He clears his throat. “Our first champion will be: Fleur Delacour! For Beauxbatons!” The hall claps politely, and Hallie sees Fleur take a detour by the Slytherin table to give a happy kiss to Kovalenko. The Goblet flares as she disappears from the hall and Dumbledore catches a fluttering paper for the second time.

“The champion for our second school!” He shouts, letting the moment hang and the anticipation build. “Will be Viktor Krum!”

The hall erupts into applause and Krum leaves the room, stony faced. Hallie catches an expression of relief on Kovalenko’s face.

“Now then!” Dumbledore’s hands raise and the candles flair. “Let us prepare for the last of our three champions to be selected! Soon enough we will brief them on their first tas-.” He stops, a touch shocked -Hallie gets the impression he wasn’t expecting the next piece before he had finished speaking-, as the Goblet flares more brightly than ever before and releases a final, last piece of parchment into the air before its flames wicker and die. It floats directly into Dumbledore’s still, shocked hand. He holds it up and Halle feels mounting dread as he looks to the Gryffindor table.

“Hallie Potter.”

*~*

Hallie shuffles into the champion’s room, altogether numb.

You didn’t, I know you didn’t, I promise. Ginny reassures her in her head. Hallie can only nod gently despite the fact that Ginny can’t see her.

“Do they want us back in the hall?” Fleur’s gentle french accent sweeps over her, but Hallie can’t even process it.

“Uh, n-no.” Hallie mutters, numb.

“Then why are you here?” Hallie hears Krum’s voice for the first time, it’s higher pitched than she expected, very articulate and his tone is not unkind, there’s not a trace of his native accent in his words.

“How exciting!” A voice says brightly, as Bagman shoulders open the door.

“Ladies and Gentleman!” He claps his hands. “I must say we’ve had an exciting turn of events. A completely unexpected champion!” He points at Hallie and she feels a little sick. Before the uproar can really get started, McGonagall and Dumbledore come in, arguing fiercely and trailed by Karkaroff, Remus and Maxine.

Hallie feels sick at the sight of her uncle.

“I will not have it!” McGonagall snaps. “Hallie Potter is a girl, not a piece of meat for you to throw to the slaughter!”

“We have no choice Minerva.” Dumbledore doesn’t even sound angry, just beyond the limits of exasperation. “As I hope her reaction demonstrates, it is quite clear to me that Miss Potter did not enter her own name.”

“So she should not then be eligible to compete, Albus!” McGonagall sounds beyond merely angry, she sounds furious , even the dour Karkaroff pales in the face of her anger.

“Hallie.” Remus kneels next to her, tapping her knee to get her attention. “ Did you put your name in the Goblet?”

“N-no U-Uncle R-Remus.” Hallie’s leg starts to bounce in her nervousness, her stutter rearing its head.

“Well she must have done it!” Snape’s voice, normally a composed and carefully disinterested drawl, fills the room with anger. Hallie hadn’t even noticed he was there. “Just like her father, always desperate for attention and glory-.”

“SILENCE!” McGonagall finally snaps, and the entire room looks taken aback. “I will not have you continue to push this narrative Severus! Even you must be aware of how blatantly unfair it is to lump your hatred for James Potter onto his daughter! All of us agreed upon its placement that the age line was sound! Potter plainly has not broken the rules on this occasion, look at the poor girl!”

“It seems clear to me.” Krum says, the room turns to him. “She doesn’t want to be here and we should not make her.” He turns to Dumbledore. “Can her name not be removed and replaced with a willing candidate?”

“I am afraid not.” Dumbledore shakes his head. “As you all may have seen when the Goblet was made ready, myself, Headmistress Maxine, and High-Master Karkaroff all swore binding oaths on behalf of our schools. The students are bound to compete, and importantly to give their all. Were it an option, I would suggest that Hallie show up to and then gracefully bow out of every task with zero points, but due to the wording of the oath, she does not have that luxury.”

“How would her name even be entered without her consent?” Snape asks, snide and dismissive.

“I think I can answer that.” An Irish accent familiar to Hallie speaks up and the red hair of Aoife Byrne enters the room, a sheaf of small parchment slips in her hand. “I took a peek into the Goblet, it’s raised so high up nobody would have seen it normally, and everyone else’s names are untouched in the bottom.” She flips a slip over to demonstrate, it isn’t even burned, just the name ‘Cedric Diggory - Hogwarts’ scrawled on it in neat but hurried handwriting. “The Goblet appears to have had two enchantments placed on it, one which attempted force Miss Potter’s name to appear under a fourth school, but was abandoned half-complete, I presume because the idiot responsible only realised halfway through that would free Potter from the binding oath, as she wouldn’t be competing on behalf of a school that made it. The second placed the Goblet under a powerful confundus charm, forcing it to not register any other names but hers. You’ll notice these all specify the school, and hers does not.” She dumps the parchment slips on a nearby table to demonstrate. “This was a targeted attack, make no doubt about it.”

“You seem to have put quite some thought into this.” Karkaroff observes coldly. “Whoever you are.”

Aoife meets his gaze with sharp eyes.

“Aoife, Byrne. Gringotts’ first-rank curse-breaker. Breaking open things like this is my job, and this girl is one of my students.” Karkaroff actually looks a touch set back at Aoife’s title, but he rallies himself, dropping any facade of politeness.

“Durmstrang will not compete!” He yells, making to stride from the room. “Come, Viktor!”

“He can’t.” Aoife interrupts. “Binding contract, he doesn’t compete then your star seeker” her voice drips with venom, “will lose his magic. I’ve seen that happen, it’s not a pretty thing.”

The argument rages for quite some time, but no solution can be found. The Goblet cannot be re-lit until the next tournament, the champions -however willing they may be- will break their vows if three tasks are not completed and at least a decade is not waited until the Goblet is re-lit.

Ludo Bagman claps Hallie on the shoulder as she finally makes to leave the room, the other champions behind her.

“Cheer up girl! At least you do have a chance at some glory!”

Hallie looks him dead in the eye.

“I fought a Basilisk when I was twelve, Mr Bagman. It is not an experience I have any desire to repeat.”

*~*

She finally steps through the portrait to Gryffindor tower, her thoughts a maelstrom of fear and anxiety, and is immediately swallowed by a maelstrom of noise and shouting.

Everyone wants to know how she’s done it, everyone is screaming questions at her about how she possibly got past the age-line, Fred and George seem impressed if annoyed, Angelina seems proud, Lee Jordan keeps trying to drape a Gryffindor banner around her neck, it’s all too much. Hallie fights her way through to the stairs, trudging up them without even looking back and heading straight to her dorm. She sits on her bed, wooden and numb to it all until the door opens and Ginny runs in, followed by Hermione at slightly less of a rush.

“Gin-.” Ginny envelops her in a hug and Hallie lets herself break down and process it.

“Finally starting to sink in is it?” Hallie looks up to find Hermione glaring at her. “The consequences for what you’ve done.”

“She didn’t do this!” Ginny snaps at her. “How could you possibly think she would do this!”

“I didn’t do it Hermione.” Hallie finds her voice. “I didn’t, why would I do that?”

Hermione takes a long look at her, eyes narrow.

“I didn’t do it.” Hallie pleads. “I didn’t do it, I swear.”

“If you did.” Hermione’s eyes bore into her. “Then you are stupid.” She crosses to sit next to Hallie on the bed. “But I don’t think you’re stupid, so what did happen?”

Hallie takes a deep breath and runs down every last detail.

Exhausted, she falls asleep before Lavender and Parvati come up to go to bed, and she wakes up several hours later, after another nightmare about the Basilisk.

Hallie. A hand smoothes her hair back, but it isn’t Hermione’s voice, there’s only one person who can speak in her head. You’re okay, it’s just the dorm.  

Gin? She feels Ginny lay down next to her, stroking her hair as the last remnants of the shadow of Basilisk venom leave her with a shudder. What happened?

Couldn’t sleep, my own nightmares. Ginny points to a stack of toast on Hallie’s nightstand, resting on a napkin. Hermione brought that up for you, she figured you wouldn’t want to go downstairs with all the clapping and the cheering and such. Not to mention Ron.

Ron? Hallie sits up, reaching out for a piece of toast as her stomach growls. What’s he done?

He’s… a bit off it. Ginny looks around guiltily and her lips twist. He’s convinced himself that you’ve done this to upstage him. Hermione says he’s jealous.

Upstage him? What? Hallie coughs and chokes on her toast. What’s he got to be jealous of? He wants to die does he?

Ginny smacks her shoulder.

Hallie Potter you are not going to die! Professor McGonagall will figure something out, she was furious you were being made to compete. Ginny leans on her shoulder and takes a bite of Hallie’s toast. Eat up and get dressed. She turns and presses a kiss to Hallie’s cheek. You’re going to take me for a fly.

Hallie does as she’s bid, and then because she still doesn’t want to face the crowds, she puts on her snow boots, tucks her jeans into them, and opens the window after grabbing her Thunderbolt.

Coming out of the window with me or shall I meet you down at the front door? She asks Ginny, as her dorm room is blasted by cold air.

What kind of question is that? Ginny laughs and gives her a gentle push towards the window. Out you go, Potter, and I’m coming with.

With some difficulty, Hallie seats herself on the window ledge, takes a breath, and jumps.

Gryffindor tower is a hell of a long way off the ground and Hallie lets the air stream past her in freefall for just a second before she gets her broom under herself, swooping around and back up to the window.

Coming Gin?

Debating if I make you catch me. Ginny teases, and Hallie shakes her head rapidly, shuffling closer to the wall.

No!

Relax, I’m kidding. Ginny places her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder and then hops onto the back of Hallie’s Thunderbolt, her arms locking tightly around her girlfriend’s waist, she kicks the window closed gently before letting her feet dangle in the wind.

They sit there for a minute, hovering outside the fourth floor of Gryffindor tower, the dark grey roofs around them a severe and dark contrast to the warm yellow stone.

Where am I taking you, my darling? Hallie asks.

First off, you can call me that more often. Ginny declares, resting her head on Hallie’s shoulder. Second, just fly, relax, I’m not going anywhere, take me on a tour.

The Thunderbolt is at what’s practically a standstill as Hallie flies slowly away from the window, but the air is cool and crisp and straight away she can feel herself relaxing.

How have we never done this before?

Well it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, two people on a custom-seated-for-one sports broom. Ginny laughs in her ear and Hallie shuffles forwards to try and get her girlfriend a little more room.

They coast gently around the castle in a wide, sweeping circle, around the towers and past empty windows opaque with the glare of the morning sun.

Looks small from up here. Ginny thinks. Never seen Hogwarts from this angle before.

Looks small because we’re quite high. Hallie says. She turns away towards the lake and the imposing black ship of Durmstrang, descending slowly until they’re about tree-top level, soaring above the cold dark water. Hogwarts looms above them from this angle, warm but still imposing.

We're making this a regular thing. Ginny declares.

Enjoying yourself? Hallie opens the Thunderbolt up just a touch, still nowhere close to how fast she would fly even at the slowest point of a Quidditch match.

Very much so! Ginny presses a kiss to the side of her neck. Want to show me what this broom can do, Potter? Hallie laughs softly.

Only if you hold on tight, okay?

Ginny’s arms tighten obediently around her waist Hallie crouches forwards to bring them both into a slightly more aerodynamic profile so they won’t catch the wind, then speeds up as much as she dares.

It’s still not top speed, but they rocket past the Durmstrang ship so fast that Hallie can’t catch the name on the back, Ginny laughing in her ear.

That’s more like it! She squeezes Hallie’s waist. You’ll probably have to drop me off before we head back, I don’t think we can both fit through the window.

Hallie rises back into the air and slows, taking them not down to a normal entrance but upwards to the astronomy tower, right to the spot Charlie and his colleagues had shown up in her first year on brooms with a case for a not-quite-legal-dragon suspended between them.

I’ll have to leave you here then. She flies in through the larger windows and comes to a rest low for Ginny to step off. Her girlfriend gives her a warm hug.

Go for a dive Hallie, I know you’ve been dying to.

You know me so well. Hallie blows Ginny a kiss and then flies back out of the window.

She coasts upwards, missing the warmth of Ginny behind her but enjoying the balance of her Thunderbolt, then in one swift, practiced movement she hangs herself inverted, lets the broom point straight down at a courtyard, and guns it. Terminal velocity is an old friend at this point.

Warm stone races by in the corner of her eye, the wind whistling in her face, it whips at her hair and tears at the corners of her jacket. The speed is bright and raw and enjoyable and there’s almost nothing better.

She pulls up well before the roofs of the buildings, nowhere close to the stone of the courtyard floor, then opens the taps and races off, climbing back up the spire of the castle, seeing Gryffindor tower and flying to the fourth highest window. She swoops close, knocks, and floats back as it opens outwards.

“How were you planning on getting through from that side?” Hermione’s voice carries the unsubtle undertone of ‘I told you so’ and Hallie just smirks. Her intentions flash through her mind and Ginny reads it as easily as she would her own.

“Stand back, Hermione.”

Hallie backs off, flattens herself to her broom, and comes through the narrow window sideways, finding inside not only Ginny and Hermione but also her head of house, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“H-hi Professor.” She grins awkwardly, hopping off her Thunderbolt and running a hand through her windswept hair.

“Five points from Gryffindor.” McGonagall’s refined accent can’t mask her dry exasperation. “For flying outside of permitted areas, Miss Potter.” Hallie looks at her shoes as she leaves her Thunderbolt hovering noiselessly beside her bed.

“Sorry Professor, I just… I needed to clear my head.”

McGonagall looks at her softly.

“Ordinarily this would result in a ban from the next Quidditch match.” She rolls her eyes quickly, although not so quickly that Hallie doesn't catch it. “However, as there’s no Quidditch this year, I will simply remind you that if you do wish to fly, the pitch is, for the foreseeable future, open to you, while the vast majority of the grounds are not .” She tuts when Hallie grins. “Now please, tidy yourself up and get dressed in your uniform. It may be a Sunday but you’re wanted for the weighing of the wands.”

After changing her shoes, clothes, running a brush through her hair and shrugging with a ‘good enough’, Hallie trails behind her Professor as she’s escorted off.

I guess we’re going down to the pitch next time. Ginny says in her head. Shame, I liked seeing Hogwarts from that vantage point.

I did too. Hallie trails after McGonagall towards some normally disused classroom. Maybe when Christmas comes around we can ask for permission during the holidays.

You? Ginny asks, mental tone impish. Asking permission? Wonders never cease.

You’re hilarious. Hallie gives the mental equivalent of sticking out her tongue, so wrapped up in their talk that she nearly bumps into Professor McGonagall’s back.

“Sorry Professor.” She stumbles over her sudden stop.

“In here, Miss Potter.” She opens the door and gestures Hallie in. “I’m going upstairs to check-.”

“Hallie!” Ludo Bagman’s voice interrupts McGonagall who sighs and simply strides off. “There’s our third champion, wonderful, we can get started now.” He rubs his hands together vigorously, a move that reminds Hallie unpleasantly of her Uncle Vernon. The witch sitting to his right in garish magenta robes and with almost blindingly bright blonde hair also flashes Hallie a bright smile, three gold teeth shining in her grin.

“Rita Skeeter.” She comes forwards and Hallie is about to shake her hand, not that Rita even notices, too busy tutting at Hallie’s hair and examining her in a way that makes Hallie think she’s being treated like cattle. “I write for the Prophet you know, I’d love to just have a little word before we start, you’re the youngest champion, really very interesting for the article-.”

Oh Merlin that evil bitch! Hallie hears Ginny’s voice in her head, her girlfriend must be relaxing and skimming her memories as they form. Don’t talk to her, she'll mangle anything you say, she’s notorious for it! There's a pause as Ginny also digests her thought process. And yes, I'm on your bed.

“Miss Skeeter.” Fleur’s voice interrupts the journalist before Hallie can think of a way to try and squeeze out of the interview and she turns to see the stunning girl walking up to them, looking immaculate in her Beauxbatons blue. “I think we’re about to start, but perhaps Hallie and I could talk to you together afterwards? It’s unusual in the tournament’s history to have two girls be champions.” Her words are smooth and polite, but there’s an undercurrent there, something Hallie can’t place.

“Delightful!” Skeeter coos. She retreats to a corner and Fleur rests a gentle hand on Hallie’s shoulder.

“She looked like she was crowding you.” She says softly. “Please, come and sit with me.”

She leads Hallie over to a pair of the chairs that have been pushed aside and sits with an inviting gesture. Hallie can’t help but feel jealous, everything Fleur does is poised and perfect and flawless.

“You were out flying this morning, yes?” Her smooth french accent jogs Hallie from her thoughts.

“Yes, with my girlfriend.” Hallie blushes, Fleur laughs softly.

“I don’t think you saw us, but Ana and I were out by the lake. When we saw you, she promised to take me flying after this.”

“We got scolded.” Hallie relaxes a touch. “You’re only allowed to fly around the pitch.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Fleur grins at her, one that seems more genuine than her usual default small smile. “You seem to be a good flier, do you play Quidditch?”

“I play seeker on my house team.” Hallie can’t help her smile as she thinks of the last season. “We won the last two seasons. But I’m nothing compared to your- Kovalenko.” She stumbles over her words and blushes, but Fleur doesn’t seem annoyed.

“She is very good, my Kovalenko.” She casts her eyes to the stairs, apparently satisfied not to see anyone coming down them. “You know of her, I presume?”

“She’s kind of an idol of mine.” Hallie mumbles, although it appears Fleur heard her anyway as her smile turns into more of a grin.

Then she does something that Hallie wouldn’t catch if she didn’t do it herself. She cocks her head, very slightly, as if listening to a voice inside her head.

“You’re bonded.” Hallie whispers.

Fleur’s blue eyes snap to her sharply.

“What?” She hisses.

“You did that-.” Hallie imitates cocking her head. “I always do that, when Ginny talks to me.”

Fleur’s eyes relax and then light up.

“You are- with your girl? Ginny, was it?”

Hallie nods.

“Meet us at the pitch, after this.” Fleur whispers. “Ana is very interested to meet you now.”

Hallie’s grin widens.

Gin?

Merlin! That’s going to be so cool!

A door shutting makes her jump, but Fleur merely looks up gently, not caught nearly as much by surprise.

In walk Professor Dumbledore, as well as High-Master Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxine, trailing them a figure Hallie recognises with a jolt.

“May I introduce Mr Ollivander.” Dumbledore’s arms sweep the room. “He will be checking your wands to make sure they are in good working order.”

Olivander takes a seat, and then gestures to Krum to start.

“A Gregorovitch creation I think.” He says as he examines the sweeping, curved form. “The styling is quite distinctive. In fair condition.” He closes one eye and brings the wand close to his face. “Ten and a quarter inches, and rigid, very very rigid. Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring?” Krum nods at his glance and Ollivander points the wand at the open window. “Avis!”

There’s a soft whumpf of air and a half-dozen small birds spring into existence, flying out of the window. Ollivander hands the wand back with a nod.

“Next, Miss Delacour?” He holds out one wizened hand and Fleur dutifully hands over her own wand. It’s a swirling, beautifully styled piece. “Nine and a half inches, Rosewood. An Acajor craft?” Ollivander rotates it carefully before his eye. “And a very unique core.”

“Veela hair.” Fleur supplies. “My grandmother’s. And yes, Monsieur Acajor ,” her accent thickens as she dips truly into French, “one of his very last.”

“I’ve never used Veela hair myself, I find it too temperamental to work with.” Ollivander muses. “I can very much see why it would work for you though, and you’ve kept it in immaculate condition. Orchideous!”

A bouquet of Orchids sprout from the tip and Ollivander nods with satisfaction, vanishing them again and handing Fleur back her wand.

“I believe that leaves you, Miss Potter.”

Hallie nods and hands over her wand, Ollivander lists it out before even looking at it.

“One of mine. Thirteen and a half inches, Red Oak and Phoenix Feather, supple but not overly so, accurate and speedy.” He quotes himself and the words ring in Hallie’s mind like it was yesterday.

“A duelist’s wand, if I had to guess. Very interesting.” She whispers.

“Well remembered.” Ollivander brings the wand to his eye. “It’s in good condition, have you been doing much dueling, Miss Potter?”

“Not outside of the Quidditch pitch.” Hallie blushes a little, but Ollivander eyes her shrewdly.

“A good fit indeed then.” He points it at the wall. “ Expelliarmus!” A bright crimson bolt of light streaks from Hallie’s wand and into the wall, leaving a solid chunk of it as dust.

He hands it back and Hallie smiles as the handle fits back up her sleeve.

*~*

Hallie walks hand in hand with Ginny, her Thunderbolt slung over her shoulder as they make their way to the Quidditch Pitch.

You’re nervous! Ginny teases her with a smile and a gentle poke to the ribs.

You’d be nervous if you were meeting Ivanova or Moran! Hallie shoots back, although she’s smiling.

Walking is boring. Ginny changes the subject. Come on, we’re close enough.

Hallie doesn’t need any further encouragement, she mounts her broom, gets Ginny settled behind her, and they ride the rest of the way to the stadium at significantly more speed.

As they fly over the stands there’s a whistle below them, Hallie turns and spots Fleur in the seats.

Instinctively she kicks a hitch and does a rolling turn, forgetting for a second that Ginny is behind her.

Hallie! Arms tighten around her waist as they roll through a full turn and Hallie brings the broom in slowly as she stays upright.

I forgot! Sorry Gin.

I’m not complaining. Ginny pecks her cheek as they land. It was fun, just warn me next time.

“‘Allie!” Fleur’s accent comes out strongly and she makes towards them from a few seats away. “I am glad you came! I ‘ave to warn you!”

“Warn me?” Hallie raises an eyebrow, just a couple of hours ago she and Fleur had been chatting fine.

“Zhe first task!” Fleur casts a worried look over the back of the stands, then relaxes as Kovalenko places a gentle hand on her back. They don’t say anything aloud, but Fleur takes a deep breath and straightens up, when she speaks next her accent is less pronounced and she seems far more calm.

“The first task.” She repeats herself, in a hushed tone. “Madame Maxine informed me, they have brought us dragons to fight.”

“Dragons.” Hallie’s jaw drops comically.

“I do not know what the exact task is.” Fleur lets out a long breath and hums as Kovalenko wraps an arm around her waist. “But you should prepare for a dragon. I am sorry that I cannot help you prepare more, but I have not yet started to study for it myself-.”

“It’s already enough.” Hallie says. “Thank you, Fleur, really. I’m going to have a lot to learn just to keep myself alive.”

“With that out of the way.” Kovalenko stops the task conversation before it can go any further. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Hallie. This must be Ginny?” Her accent is noticeable in how it colours her words unlike Krum’s, but very different to both Krum and Karkaroff, and everything about her feels refined, just as she is in the air. Ginny nods and smiles and Kovalenko holds out a hand to shake. “I am Anastasiya, but you may call me Ana. I hear you are a fan of mine.”

Hallie blushes and nods, Ginny jumps at the opportunity.

“She was supporting you all through the World Cup, she wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing your catch was against Brazil.” Her eyes take on a wicked gleam. “And she was gushing about how flawlessly you marked Williams against Australia.”

I hate you. Hallie thinks.

No you don’t. Ginny responds. Consider this payback for you telling Tonks about the pond.

“I have been told you also play seeker.” Ana’s yellow eyes shine. “Show me what you know, I can teach you something.” She lifts her broom from her shoulder and flies off, Hallie in pursuit.

“That’s my Ana.” Fleur laughs softly. “Always focussed on her Quidditch.” She pats the seat next to her. “Come, please, sit with me. I think I will enjoy talking to you, Ginny.”

“I’m also pretty focussed on Quidditch.” Ginny says bashfully as she takes the seat with a smile. “I was teasing Hallie about being starstruck, she said I’d be the same if Ivanova or Moran were here. And she’s kind of right.”

“We all have those we admire.” Fleur laughs. “I was a little struck dumb myself, when I heard Hallie was being taught by Aoife Byrne.”

“You met Aoife?” Ginny cranes her neck back, watching Hallie in the sky. “She’s been teaching me and Hallie Occlumency.”

“She is your personal tutor!?” Fleur gasps. “Oh I would love to meet her, if she is so inclined. She is someone I look up to very much.”

“Why?” Ginny asks. “Do you want to be a curse breaker?”

“It is my ambition in life, yes.” Fleur smiles. “I used to be very arrogant, you know. Being a quarter-Veela, I thought I was the most beautiful, the most talented, that I deserved the world.” She laughs. “Oh I was a foolish girl. When I was in my fourth year, at Beauxbatons, we had a guest teacher. He was a curse breaker, he taught us in Ancient Runes, and when he taught, I was spellbound. It was the most interesting subject, but I found it such a challenge.” She shakes her head and tuts. “I had never worked hard academically, but now here I had to study, and study hard. I ended up staying at the school over the summer to try and catch up. That is where I met Ana.” She looks into the sky, eyes squinting against the light to find her. “Beauxbatons runs a Quidditch camp, did you know?” She looks at Ginny, who nods. “It is considered elite, we have produced many great players. Ana was training there, and one day I was bored, so I went to watch the boys and girls fly. I handed her some water, after she was running drills. The best decision of my life.”

“You can hear her? In your head?” Ginny asks. Fleur nods. “We have that too, but we were told that these bonds manifest in different ways. Sometimes one of us gets a physical sensation, if the other is in danger.”

“Ah, we are different.” Fleur hums. “I feel a tugging towards her. It grows less… pronounced with distance, but no less present. From Beauxbatons to Durmstrang, it is more of a comfort that I know where she is, even when we are so engaged we do not talk to each other. But when we are close…” Her eyes follow Ana in the sky intently. “It is a strong feeling, a desperation to be next to her, to feel her touch.” She puts her feet up on the seat in front of her. “You enjoy Quidditch, no?”

“It’s my favourite thing.” Ginny smiles. “I introduced Hallie to it.”

“Perhaps you both will wind up at the Beauxbatons camp, if your aim is to play professionally.” Fleur’s eyes never stop tracking Ana in the air. “But first, if you’re willing to talk about it, I would love to hear the story of you introducing your Hallie to Quidditch.”

*~*

“You have good basics!” Ana calls, as Hallie drops into a dive. “But you can flow more quickly.” She waits for Hallie to even out. “Watch!”

She kicks a hitch and uses the momentum to drop into a blistering dive before she levels out and calls upwards.

“Give it a try. Use the momentum from the hitch to push yourself over more quickly!”

Hallie does, kicking a hitch upwards and leaning into it, forcing the broom over and into a quicker dive than ever before. She shoots towards the ground in a rush, a grin plastered on her face.

“Good!” Ana calls. “That broom at least isn’t wasted on you! You have the talent to use it!” Hallie blushes under the praise and flies back to her impromptu teacher.

“Could I go pro?” She asks. “If I keep putting in the work.”

“I think so.” Ana takes something out of her pocket and tosses it hand to hand. “But that’s not the question, anyone can go pro if they put in the work. Although talent does make it easier. The question you need to ask yourself is do you love the game enough?” Hallie cocks her head in confusion.

“What do you mean? I love Quidditch, I dream about it.”

“There’s a thing you need to understand about professional players.” Ana keeps tossing the little ball hand to hand as she talks. “This, it's not a game anymore. It’s your job. You cannot go into it thinking it will be fun because you get to play Quidditch for a living. Because it won’t be fun, not all the time. Not even most of it. If the minute Quidditch isn’t any fun anymore you’re going to quit it, then don’t even think about going pro. You’re good, you probably will set school records with natural talent. But to be a professional? You have to love the game. Really love it enough to enjoy the parts you hate about it.”

“What parts of Quidditch would I hate?” Hallie asks, perplexed.

Ana hums.

“How to give an example, I wonder…” She taps her chin, her hand-to-hand tossing resuming after a second. “Tell me, if your chasers initiate a Whitberg fake, and your keeper is hanging left hoop with your beaters to high right side to double-shot into the box and scatter the keeper should your chasers be successful, what do you need to do?”

Hallie thinks for a good minute.

“Mark the opposing seeker, since they’ll be playing high left in my field to try and cut off my keeper if it fails, so I need to be able to block their dive.”

“That's correct. Yes.” Ana nods. “But do you see the problem?”

“No?” Hallie furrows her brow, what is she getting wrong? The position of the enemy beaters perhaps-.”

“You had to think about it.” Ana shakes her head. “The problem is not with your play, or your instincts. The part of Quidditch you will hate is the need to study. For every team you are on, you must know everything in your team’s playbook, all of the strategies, how you fit into them, how they can be countered, and also how best you can use your seeker’s freedom to enable them. When you play in a professional game, things are too fast, there’s no time for thinking. You do all of your thinking before the game. So really the question is do you love the game enough and are you competitive enough to be able to do that and put in that time?”

She stops tossing the ball in her hands and clicks something on it, as the little golden wings spread, Hallie realises it’s a practice snitch.

“Unless I have read you wrong.” Ana muses, looking at the golden ball in her fingers. “The part you love the most is the snitch chase, it's only instinct, nothing but you and the broom and the snitch. Am I correct?”

“I think so.” Hallie nods, resting forwards on her Thunderbolt, arms crossed as they hover.

“Then you tell me. Do you love the game enough to study it and to stay with it. To live, eat and breathe it, to let it dictate your life, your sleep, your waking hours, your diet, your relationships, all to test yourself at the highest level possible in that one area you love and think you are the best at?”

“Yes.” Hallie says. “I think I do.”

“Good.” Ana releases her practice snitch and claps her hands. “Then we'll see what I can teach you in a chase, Hallie.” She starts to count under her breath in her native tongue and Hallie watches her, carefully.

“...двадцять вісім, двадцять дев'ять, тридцять!”

She rockets off, blonde hair streaming in the wind, and Hallie follows.

*~*

“Do you play on the house team, Ginny?”

“Not yet.” Ginny folds her arms and stares at Hallie with both longing and jealousy. “Our current chasers aren’t going to get replaced, but Angelina mentioned she might not want to play in her final year. So there might be a spot.”

“Why would she not want to play? They have won the cup twice now, no?”

Ginny shrugs.

“She likes Quidditch, but I think she wants to do a mastery in charms.”

“A difficult goal.” Fleur sounds impressed. “You want to get into the team in her place?”

“I dream about it, sometimes.” Ginny watches Hallie come up to hover near Ana and the two start talking high in the air. “Being on the pitch with Hallie sounds amazing, and almost my entire family has played. Mum, Charlie, Fred and George, my brother Ron is pretty Quidditch mad too. He’s Hallie’s best friend, or he was anyway.”

“He was?” Fleur shivers and takes out her wand, casting a quick warming charm that drapes over them and their seats like a warm blanket. “What happened? Hallie mentioned a Basilisk to Monsieur Bagman the other night. Was it something like that?”

“Ron went and convinced himself that Hallie entered the tournament to upstage him.” Ginny crosses her arms and huffs angrily. “Like she’d do that, she didn’t even choose to enter.”

“Non, Mademoiselle Byrne was very clear about that.” Fleur agrees. “So he is no longer friends with Hallie, your brother?”

“He’s being a prat.” Ginny huffs again. “He’ll come around eventually, he cares a lot, he’s just a bit, you know, quick to jump to conclusions.”

“Mmm.” Fleur hums. “I know the type. They can make the best friends, but one bad thing can set them off.” She pauses, sympathy in her eyes warring with curiosity. “I must confess though, I am most curious about this Basilisk.”

*~*

This is by far the fastest she’s ever had to chase another seeker, and Hallie finds that she isn’t used to being behind.

Anastasiya Kovalenko is, of course, world class. Ukraine had only lost narrowly to Ireland in the semi-finals, placing third, and while the brooms they fly aren’t that different and the speed isn’t an issue, the other seeker is blocking Hallie at every turn.

Ana’s broom itself is a work of art. Hallie has read all about it in interviews. The Ukrainian team have brooms crafted by hand from the trees of their country, pine handles, hand-selected and tuned twigs of choice -Ana’s are ash-, bound up in titanium metalwork from the mines of their homeland. There are only a few in the world and each one bears the player’s name and number.

But the broom does not make the player.

Ana seamlessly blocks Hallie’s view at all times. Not only does she never know what direction the snitch is going -meaning she’s never able to follow it directly-, she is reduced to following the other seeker, and in a real match that virtually guarantees a loss. Hallie has no idea what to do. She can’t move out of this flightline or she’ll lose speed, and she can’t catch Ana, they’re both pushing their brooms as hard and fast as they’ll possibly go.

“Do all your thinking before the game.” Ana had said. But Hallie has never thought about this situation before.

A real chase wouldn’t go on this long, Hallie knows she should have lost by now, practice snitches are designed to pull seekers through any and all kinds of manoeuvres in long drills, they’re always just out of reach.

She follows her teacher down, in turn following the snitch, closer and closer to the grass and the stadium. The subtle white ring of the safety ward that kicks in if a player falls is so close Hallie could reach out and touch it if she wanted to. Although at this speed that seems like a good way to lose the chase and possibly her arm.

The first little glint of gold she’s seen since the start of the race reaches Hallie’s eyes and tells her the snitch makes to continue the loop. She pulls away from tailing the other seeker, trying to cut the snitch off.

From the corner of her eye she sees the snitch jink upwards and she tries to kick a hitch to be able to meet it in mid air and get back in the chase, but she’s far too close to the ground. The second she kicks the broom off and the tail down it catches on the grass.

Hallie feels momentum latch its greedy hands onto her body and yank . She comes completely free of her Thunderbolt, tumbling on hard grass and cold autumn dirt even as the pitch’s magical safeguard kicks in and she comes to a stop beside her undamaged broom with nothing but a bad head and a bruised ego.

That looked painful. Ginny’s voice is both concerned and teasing.

I’ll live. Hallie sighs and levers herself up into a sitting position as the feet of Ukraine’s star number 7 meet hard-packed ground a metre or so away.

Ana offers a hand and pulls her to her feet when Hallie accepts.

“First time you’ve come off a broom?” The Ukrainian seeker’s golden-blonde hair is windswept and her grin is bright and Hallie finds it impossible to sulk next to someone who clearly loves the sport and the chase as much as she herself does.

“Third.” Hallie bends down and retrieves her Thunderbolt. “First was over there.” She points to a different section of the pitch. “First ever match, I threw myself to catch the snitch mid jink. Came off but I got it.”

“Don’t worry, it gets easier.” Ana gives a complicated little whistle and her training snitch zips over and hovers in front of her. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

“Tried to kick a hitch at ground level?” Hallie asks.

“No- well, yes.” Ana laughs softly. “But no, before that.”

“Tried to cut the snitch off?”

“That’s right.” Ana pats her on the back, brushing away some dirt. “You’ve never been behind in a chase have you?”

“Kind of?” Hallie shrugs. “The finals last year, we came around” she gestures with her hands “I was following it along the wall as it jinked, and I kept the speed into the turn. He just kicked a hitch. If my broom wasn’t better than his I wouldn’t have caught it.”

“Well.” Ana lets her broom hover behind her and uses it as a seat, a move Hallie promptly copies. “That wasn’t entirely wrong. Even at the top end broom-makers have to optimise for something. It can be handling, speed, or comfort.”

“I know that much.” Hallie nods and points to her broom beneath her. “I have hazel twigs. When I saw the Bulgarian chasers at the World Cup they had birch.”

“Chasers want tighter turning and better control.” Ana nods. “And they tend to coordinate, it makes matching speed in complicated manoeuvres easier if everyone can just go flat out. Most of the keepers will choose something that brakes and handles fast shunts well, mahogany or hickory.” She shakes her head, hair flicking with the movement, her yellow eyes keen. “I’m getting side-tracked; point is, you should fly for how your broom is set up. I have ash, you have hazel, both speed optimised. When you’re in chase, play into my block, I have to go through the air, you don’t, you have my slipstream. Stick to me to catch up, then track the snitch in your head. You are not a bad seeker, you know when it’s going to jink when you’re in chase, right? You can feel it. Predict that and try to kick before or at the same time as I do, then you'll be able to get alongside.”

Hallie nods, eagerly absorbing as much information as she can.

“Can we try again?”

“I think you love the game enough.” Ana grins at her and whistles, the snitch flits away and she mounts her broom properly, holding up three fingers for Hallie and counting down in her native tongue.

“Один.” One finger down. “Два.” Two fingers. “Три!”

Both of them fly off in pursuit.

*~*

I’m sore. Hallie complains.

I’m not surprised. Ginny takes her broom for her, taking Hallie’s hand in her free one. You just came off your broom a dozen times in two hours. But look at what you got out of it!

She’s still much better than me. Hallie looks over her shoulder to see the small figures that are Ana and Fleur as they fly lazily around the Quidditch pitch, enjoying their time together.

Of course she is! She’s one of the best seekers in the world, but she’s going to teach you. You were already the best seeker at Hogwarts, think about how good you’re going to be when this year’s done!

Hallie rests her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, thoughts turning dark.

Assuming I survive battling a dragon.

*~*

Between the mounting stress of the first task and Sunday training sessions with Anastasiya Kovalenko running her ragged and spending Thursday evenings learning the subtle art of Occlumency with Aoife Byrne, Hallie’s grades are suffering more than ever. Even in Transfiguration and Defense -two practical classes she’s always enjoyed-, Professor McGonagall and her Uncle Remus have to consistently remind her to pay attention and try to stay awake.

“Miss Potter.” McGonagall’s voice grabs her as she packs up at the end of a lesson. “A word, please?”

“Yes Professor?” Hallie can’t suppress her yawn as Hermione and Ron (who still isn’t talking to her), exit the class along with the rest of her peers to head off to lunch. “S-sorry.” She yawns again and cringes away from her head of house.

“Take a seat, Miss Potter.” McGonagall offers her a seat at her desk and sets back to transfiguring the pincushions that had been hedgehogs when the class had started with them -Hallie notes with a tired sort of amusement that a few of them squeak and curl up when presented with pins-.

“Hallie.” McGonagall says, after she’s transfigured a few of them back into happy, snuffly little creatures.

“Hm?” Hallie starts, she doesn’t think McGonagall has ever called her by her first name.

“Your Uncle is worried about you.” McGonagall flicks her wand and conjures a pair of cups and saucers, then goes back to transfiguring the last few hedgehogs. “And honestly, so am I. As a Gryffindor your health and safety is to be my responsibility, and it is one I take seriously. Your grades have never been the best, all your teachers are aware you do better practically, but lately you barely seem to be awake in your lessons.” She pops two cubes of sugar that have miraculously appeared into the tea that has magically filled her cup and flicks her wand again to conjure a small teaspoon. “I’ve been informed you’re barely present at meals, even Miss Weasley with whom you share a very deep bond” the emphasis on that makes Hallie feel a little more guilty “is seeing you less lately.”

“I…” Hallie hesitates and takes a sip, the words don’t seem to want to come.

I’m coming. Ginny’s voice in her head. If you can’t talk to McGonagall then I will.

“Take your time.” McGonagall sits back and takes a drink.

“Ginny’s coming.” Hallie murmurs. “She says if I can’t speak then she’ll do it for me.”

McGonagall gives a little tiny snort of laughter.

“Very well. I suppose I shall allow that.”

A few minutes later Ginny opens the door and enters the room, then promptly drops herself in Hallie’s lap.

“I can prepare another chair for you, Miss Weasley.” McGonagall looks at her over the rim of her glasses in a disapproving manner.

“But I like this one.” Ginny smiles. “And honestly Hallie is terrified, Professor.”

“Terrified?” McGonagall sighs. “This tournament I suppose, I’m doing everything in my power to stop you having to compete Hallie, but-.”

“It’s fine, Professor.” Hallie mutters weakly. Ginny takes her hand.

“We found out the first task is a dragon.” She states. McGonagall’s eyebrows raise.

“I won’t ask how you and Miss Potter found out that information.”

“She’s been staying up all night studying for it with Hermione, and they’re spending hours in the library!” Ginny looks at their head of house imploringly. “She has to battle a dragon, Professor. It’s not easy to deal with.”

McGonagall sighs deeply.

“Unfortunately, my hands are tied. The binding magical vows directly prevent us as teachers from giving you any help on the task. I cannot advise any charms or hexes that would be useful against a dragon.” Ginny’s face falls and Hallie feels a stab of pure hopelessness lodge in her heart. “However.” McGonagall takes a drink and they both hang on her words. “Miss Byrne may have some advice for you, as she is not technically a teacher here. I suggest you check with her during your lesson today.” She vanishes her teacup and Hallie’s when it’s apparent she’s finished her drink. “For now though, Miss Potter, Miss Weasley; head down to lunch, spend some time with your friends. I hear you’ve been getting along well with Miss Delacour and Miss Kovalenko.”

“Yes Professor.” Hallie shuffles Ginny off her lap and stands. “She’s been teaching both of us a lot, it’s been taking my mind off it.”

“Good to hear.” McGonagall smiles at her. “I do hope it sticks, Miss Potter. Quite apart from anything else, I enjoy having the Quidditch Cup in my office.”

*~*

“Dragons.” Aoife muses. “Dragons…”

She flicks her wand at the blackboard in the disused class-room she’s been using as a teaching space and a huge chunk of writing that appears to be the cliff-notes on draconic physiology appears.

“Flame-freezing charm. Useful but not a hundred percent effective. That’ll be a necessity to learn. Conjunctivitis curse. Useful against dragons but the more powerful variant is required, and probably a bit beyond you as a fourth year.” Aoife ticks them off her fingers as she goes. “I’d imagine that’s what they want you to go for. Perhaps transfiguration, creating a distraction. How’s your more complex spell-work under pressure Potter? I know your simple spells are fine, and you can produce a Patronus charm.”

“Not great?” Hallie shrugs, discouraged.

“You’ll not have time to learn that before the task.” Aoife dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “What is your greatest strength as a witch, Potter?”

“Probably Quidditch.” Hallie’s lips twist. “It’s about all that’s sticking in my head lately too.”

“Quidditch.” Aoife muses. “Quidditch. Alright, I think you can work with that. Now, you’ll need a plan. Flame-freezing and summoning charms. Only two to learn.”

*~*

“Ladies first.”

A silken purple bag is offered to Fleur and Hallie watches her pull out a miniature model of a dragon with dark metallic scales and deep red eyes, hissing and with miniature gouts of flame escaping its nostrils as it prowls in her hand, the number two dangling from a little collar on its neck.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly.” Bagman gives a rather worried grin and moves on, Hallie gives a tiny puff of laughter through her nose. “Now you, Miss Potter.”

Hallie reaches into the bag and feels something nip at her finger, then bite. She withdraws her hand quickly with a flinch, a dragon with pitch black scales and the number three around its neck hanging from her middle finger by its jaws, its back lined with ridges and its tail an arrow-shaped whip. Fleur gives her own little laugh and Hallie pries the dragon off with her other hand, comparing it to Fleur’s and noting with a touch of relief that it seems smaller.

“The Hebridean Black…” Bagman wiggles his eyebrows -or attempts to, anyway, Hallie thinks it looks like he’s trying to get his eyelashes unstuck-. “Aggressive.” Hallie’s relief turns to ice in her stomach.

“Finally. Mr Krum.” Bagman offers him the bag and the Bulgarian scoops out his own in a single, confident move.

“The Peruvian Viperhead.” Bagman grins as Krum holds in his hand a small, swift-looking copper-coloured dragon with black markings down its back and the number one on its collar. “Venomous, good luck indeed Mr Krum. You are the first to go.”

He shuts the bag and hurries from the tent as Viktor takes his place near the opening and Hallie takes a seat on a bench. Fleur sits down next to her and throws an arm over her shoulders.

“You will be fine.” She whispers gently. “I am sure of it, ‘Allie.”

Through their bond Hallie is aware that Ginny is seated next to a tense Ana in the stands, watching Krum enter the ring to the sound of a bright whistle.

“You ‘ave a plan.” Fleur’s accent is coming through a touch more strongly in her nervousness. “You ‘ave told me. Tout ira bien, je le promets, ‘Allie.”

“Thank you.” Hallie swallows with difficulty. “You have a plan too, right?”

“Certainement.” Fleur sounds quite proud. “We shall compare our notes after la tâche, hm? I am most eager to see what you-.”

A roar and the sound of rippling fire cuts her off and Hallie cringes.

“We will both get the egg.” Fleur pats her shoulder again. “And I ‘ope Viktor does as well. He is quite nice, once you get to know ‘im.”

“He seemed a bit-” another blast of flame outside the tent “-a bit aloof.” Hallie shrugs under the comforting arm.

“‘E is a lot nicer when ‘is ‘Igh-Master Karkaroff is not ‘anging over ‘is shoulder.” Fleur reassures her. “We shall ‘ave a nice talk, I am sure of it.”

Bagman’s shout of “HE’S DONE IT!” Jars them both from their moment and Fleur stands with a deep breath.

“Good luck.” Hallie shoots her two thumbs up with a somewhat shaky grin.

Fleur strides into the arena at the sound of a whistle and Hallie is left alone for an uncomfortably long time with only Bagman’s voice for company.

When eventually he calls that Fleur is through, Hallie steps up to the opening with somewhat shaky legs.

The whistle sounds and she steps through to a clearing in the forest.

The stands rise up around her, she’s aware of Ginny -and Ana and Hermione next to her, having their hands held uncomfortably tight- along with hundreds of other faces, all staring down at her.

At the other end of the clearing, crouched protectively over a clutch of eggs with a glitter of gold just like a snitch buried in the middle, is the Hebridean Black. Hallie raises her wand and focuses on her broom.

“Accio Thunderbolt!”

The dragon roars and Hallie ducks for cover.

She’s deafened by her own breath and by her heartbeat and the blood roaring in her ears. She brings her fingers up to her neck and checks her pulse as she once was taught in a muggle school years ago. She can’t find it. She swallows and tries again. Nothing, again, still nothing, enough that she starts to worry, but then as she moves them again there is a faint flicker under her fingers.

I’m alive. She thinks. I’m still alive.

She can feel Ginny in her head, no doubt crushing Ana and Hermione’s hands in her grip but trying her hardest not to be a distraction.

There’s a swooping in the air and she turns to see the glossy black handle of her Thunderbolt sweeping towards her, its multi-coloured goblin-forged metal rings and stirrups shining in the sunlight and its rich, brown, freshly polished hazel twigs gleaming.

It floats to a stop, Hallie mounts it, and kicks off.

She climbs, feeling the wind in her hair. Some of Ana’s words flicker in her head.

“You’re a -there's a muggle term- thrill-junkie, use that to your advantage.”

Hallie is very sure this isn’t what her coach meant, but what’s good for the snitch is good for the dragon. Or something like that.

Not wanting to be unprepared, she taps her wand to her own head and then her broom as she flies upwards, casting a flame-freezing charm.

“Flame freezing charm’s not totally effective against dragon fire. But better to lose some hair and get a nasty burn than have your skin sloughing off your bones in a soup.” Hallie makes sure she’s cast it as well as possible, remembering Aoife’s colourful warning. 

And then she turns her attention fully to the dragon crouched on its clutch of eggs.

“You’re a dragon.” She whispers into the cold air as she hangs herself inverted off the back of a quick hitch and enters a top speed vertical dive. “You can get my blood racing right?”

The creature roars as if in challenge and Hallie can’t help the smile as the wind tears at her face.

The ground -and the dragon- rush closer and Hallie jinks to avoid a plume of bright fire, still hurtling towards the creature. She can feel the heat washing over her left side, but no burns yet, and she doesn’t really have time to think anymore.

She swoops under the dragon’s tail, flat to her broom, the Thunderbolt carrying her quick as lightning, she moves for the eggs, pushing her broom so fast the rest of the world is a blur, the glitter of gold is obscured by a leg covered in rough scales and Hallie kicks a hitch, turning ninety degrees on a pinhead and moving away before she kicks another, moving around for another run as a tongue of flame lashes over her head.

There’s a squealing pop as the atmosphere ignites and rises under the intense heat and Hallie feels raw fire washing over her back even through her charm. She rolls to dodge an incoming tail and nearly cracks her skull open on a rock. But she doesn’t care anymore, the adrenaline is flowing and she feels untouchable.

She tries again for the run, close enough to the ground to snatch a stone to skim without even moving her arm, thoughts of injury no longer on her mind, dodging a leg and reaching out a hand that just barely grabs the intricate top of the golden egg. Hallie feels her fingernails catch and then it turns , she slips her fingers under the more solid grip and then the sides fall open and a wall of pure noise assaults her ears.

She stumbles and flinches, aware for the first time of a blistering pain on the left side of her head and face, she reels and the Thunderbolt slows as her concentration wavers. Then an arrow-tipped tail scars a thin line all the way up the glassy finish of her broom handle and catches her full in the chest.

Hallie’s breath is knocked out of her completely as she slows from about sixty miles an hour to nothing in a split second. She feels a series of cracks in her chest as the tail leaves her winded and she doesn’t even have any air to yell in pain. She lands in a heap on top of the egg, bright agony burning through her senses as she gasps and her ribs scream and the golden egg lodged into her chest prevents any hope of her acquiring air.

She can pick out Ginny’s distressed voice in the crowd, screaming her name.

With the very last of her strength, Hallie shoves herself up and off the egg, gasping in a breath that makes her ribs give a crunch that she can hear reverberating through her whole skeleton.

Everything goes black.

Chapter Text

Consciousness returns suddenly and Hallie gasps, first in shock and then in pain.

“SIT STILL!” Madam Promfrey’s voice enters Hallie’s mind and she obeys without conscious thought. “Good grief Potter, you gave us all a fright there. Broomstick against a dragon! What were you thinking!”

Hallie manages a weak laugh.

“Won though.”

“I’m not sure won is the word I would use.” Madam Pomfrey mutters darkly. “Severe burns, half a dozen broken ribs, arm broken in five places , lacerations all over…”

“I lived.” Hallie sits up on the cot, hissing in pain. “Are my ribs-?”

“I said stay still!” Madam Pomfrey looks at her and seems to be debating whether she can safely smack Hallie upside the head. “I have fixed your ribs, Miss Potter, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be experiencing pain. Not to mention that arm and your face and hair. I thought I told you to stop relying on me to work miracles.” She tuts and holds up a pot of viscous orange paste and makes a gesture with her wand, it flows onto Hallie’s face and the burning sensation eases.

Hallie! Ginny’s voice inside her head is a blessed comfort unmatched by any medicine and finally Hallie relaxes a touch, head falling back into the single pillow.

Heya Gin. How’d I do?

Thank Merlin you’re alive. I was so scared.

I’m here. I’ll live. Hallie murmurs gently. Just done my arm, and a bit of my face and hair, and chest, and my ribs but Madam Pomfrey already fixed that.

That is not as reassuring as you seem to think! Ginny responds crossly. If you weren’t already injured I swear…!

Hex me later. Hallie says. You can come in, I certainly want you here.

They won’t let me. Ginny sounds like she’s pouting.

“Madam Pomfrey?” Hallie sits up again -slowly-. “Could you let Ginny in?”

“Quidditch players!” Madam Pomfrey doesn’t move towards the tent-flap but walks towards Hallie instead. “Two things on your minds at all times, I swear.” She runs her wand over Hallie’s chest and nods her head. “The ribs will stop hurting in a few days. But you need to avoid stressing them!” She glares at Hallie and waves her wand, conjuring up a sling for her arm, and then touching her wand to the paste that has hardened to Hallie’s face, causing it to flake off.

“Go on!” She gestures at the tent flap. “Off you go! You’re mostly healed, I healed the ribs, arm, and the worst of the lacerations while you were unconscious, just don’t battle another bloody dragon whatever you do.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Madam Pomfrey.” Hallie gives her most charming grin and walks with a slightly shaky step towards the tent flap.

She opens it and is immediately the recipient of Ginny latching on to her good side.

Hello my darling. Hallie rests her head on Ginny’s. Miss me?

Like someone cut a hole in me. Ginny replies seriously.

Hallie shudders and holds her closer.

As she buries her nose in Ginny’s hair, several pairs of feet hurry around the corner.

“Hallie!” Sirius’ voice gives her pause and Hallie looks up to see her Godfather standing there clearly unsure about giving her a hug.

“I’m not dead?” She tries, slightly giddy.

“You gave it a bloody good go!” Remus’ voice snaps Hallie out of her little moment and she finally takes in not only Sirius and Remus, but also Professor McGonagall, Fleur, and Ana.

“Tu étais magnifique!” Fleur declares, her clothes scuffed and her arm looking slightly pink but otherwise none the worse for wear. “Oh ‘Allie, ton bras! Mais c'était spectaculaire!”

“That was spectacularly reckless!” Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “But also plain spectacular.”

“You flew well.” Ana’s distinct accent makes Hallie beam. “Very well, Viktor was also most impressed.”

“High praise.” Hallie feels a little lightheaded, and then she remembers something with a jolt. She looks at McGonagall. “Is my broom okay, Professor?”

“Your broom is fine, apart from a rather large scar.” Hallie grins. “I should also inform you that you scored twenty nine points.” McGonagall sighs. “Behind Miss Delacour on thirty four and Mr Krum on thirty five.”

“I lived and so did my broom!” Hallie sags a bit under the relief and Ginny takes her weight.

“That’s about all I was hoping for.”

Sirius disappears into the medical tent and emerges a second later holding Hallie’s Thunderbolt, untouched but for a single, long, bright scar along its handle.

“It’ll probably buff out.” He says.

“You should leave it.” Ana says as Hallie reaches out to touch the broom and reassure herself it’s real. The magic grumbles like a stormfront under her fingers as it establishes a connection to its owner and she feels another bit of the tension leave her. “What other broom can say it’s bested a dragon? It can wear that scar like a badge of honour.”

“I like the way you think, Miss Kovalenko.” Sirius shoots her a wink and Fleur leans into Ana’s side in response before a bush rustles and Rita Skeeter makes a bee-line for Hallie.

“Miss Potter! Oh that was dramatic! Do you think I could have a word?”

“I’ll give you two!” Sirius steps in front of Hallie and glowers down at Rita. “Bugger off!”

*~*

“So I haven’t seen how bad it is.” Hallie leans in the doorway of her dorm, Bagman’s instructions on the egg firmly pushed to the back of her mind for now, the gold noise-maker tucked under Ginny’s arm. “Be honest with me Lav, is my hair salvageable?”

“I told you what it looks like!” GInny laughs and slips her arms around Hallie’s waist as Lavender and Parvati turn to them quickly.

“I- we didn’t expect you back in the dorm so quickly!” Lavender runs up to them and stops short as it occurs to her that giving Hallie a hug probably isn’t wise, she settles for Ginny instead. “We were so worried when the dragon got you!”

“It wasn’t even the dragon that got me.” Hallie taps the golden shell under Ginny’s arm. “It was this bloody thing. The dragon just happened to benefit from it.”

“What’s it for?” Parvati asks. “Neither of the others came open during the task.”

“It’s a clue apparently.” Hermione says as she squeezes in past Ginny and Hallie in the doorway. “There’s a mob downstairs, if you didn’t know.” She sits on her bed, looking frazzled.

“A mob?” Hallie cranes her head back and looks down the stairs, sure enough, filtering up the spiral staircase and bouncing off the stone walls are the sounds of a large gathering.

“You’re quite a celebrity.” Hermione points out. “Again.”

Hallie sighs and knocks her head into the doorframe.

“How long before Angelina and probably Katie come up here to drag me down?”

“Well you can’t go down like that!” Lavender beckons her in and finally sits Hallie in front of a mirror.

Her hair is not the prettiest sight, she’s lost a fair chunk of it, all the left side gone and reduced to an ugly, short, frizzy mess inside the area that had gotten the protection from her charm.

“Can it be fixed?” She asks.

“Well you can magically grow it a bit.” Lavender twirls her wand in her fingers. “But not too much at once. For the moment, you might have to go with something a bit more… severe.”

“Have you seen Ari Ainscough?” Hallie looks about for a Quidditch magazine when Lavender shakes her head.

“No? What does she have?”

“They.” Hallie corrects. “And it’s a kind of a sheet, down one side.”

“Oh they have a lob with a shaved side.” Lavender nods sagely and Hallie pretends to understand what that means. “That wouldn’t really work for you, your hair is wavy, not straight and sleek… I know!”

She grabs her wand and just starts casting cosmetic charms. Hallie raises a brow at Ginny.

Aren’t you going to stop her?

Why would I? Ginny leans back against Hallie’s bedposts. She’s good at this sort of thing. Don’t worry, I’ll stop her if it looks bad.

There’s an odd sort of tickling sensation on the burned side of her head and Hallie glances in the mirror to see Lavender cleaning it up, making it neat, and then pulling it back until the cleaned up shaved side ends above her ear, then she starts fussing with different incantations and conferring with Parvati and Hallie opts to just close her eyes and sit still while she’s fussed over for fifteen minutes.

You look hot, Potter.

Did I not before?

Open your eyes already.

Hallie does as her girlfriend commands and sees that her normally windswept hair has been slightly curled and swept over the top of her head, the now shaved side on display while the rest of her un-burned hair cascades down her back and right side.

“Credit where it’s due.” She murmurs, turning her head side to side. “Looks good.”

Lavender shuts the mirror on her vanity and gives a little curtsey.

“You can grow it back a little at a time if you want, I can do it for you every night, you just can’t grow it all back in one go or things get all messy, it’s not worth it.” She pushes Hallie up off her bed and towards Ginny by her good shoulder. “Now, go and meet your mob, dragonslayer .”

“I didn’t slay the dragon!” Hallie protests, even as Ginny leads her down the stairs.

The party, as to be expected of any Fred and George throw together with the help of the house elves, is legendary.

*~*

“It is good to see you up and around. I like the choice you have made with your hair.” Fleur says to Hallie as she watches Ginny climb into the winter air with Ana.

“I’m growing it out, one day at a time.” Hallie shivers under her warm coat. Winter has well and truly hit Hogwarts, the grounds are blanketed in thick, crisp snow, the lake is freezing to the touch, and much of the grounds resemble a winter wonderland.

It’s very very pretty, and it’s a shame Hallie can’t really see it from the air.

Fleur casts a warming charm on her with a tap of her want to Hallie’s head, her shivering quiets.

“Thank you.” She bundles up in her scarf anyway, with some difficulty given the sling her arm is in. “It’s annoying I can’t fly, but watching Gin on a broom…”

“I know the feeling well.” Fleur reaches into a bag and hands Hallie a piping hot sandwich, which on closer inspection turns out to be a ham and cheese toastie. “Although perhaps mine is different. I simply love to watch Ana fly.”

“You don’t play yourself?” Hallie takes a bite and nearly moans. “Oh this is exceptional, thank you.”

“Quidditch has never really appealed to me.” Fleur shrugs. “I tried it. In my third year, Beauxbatons is known for producing good players, of course, but the appeal did not sing to me. Not like it does to you three.”

Ana puts Ginny through a chaser drill on Hallie’s battle-scarred Thunderbolt and she smiles as the echo of Ginny’s excitement reaches her.

“It’s flying and being competitive, I don’t know what more I could ask for. Except for this to heal quicker, obviously.”

“It is a serious injury, better to let it heal on your doctor’s orders, then you will be back to playing.” Fleur swirls her wand and conjures some very simple cups which she fills with hot cocoa from a flask. “The way you flew during the task though, vraiment magnifique.”

“I will assume that’s a compliment.” Hallie takes another bite and balances the sandwich on her knees to accept her drink. “And thank you for the food! This is amazing.”

“I have much practice with the cold.” Fleur smiles at her and takes a drink of her own cocoa. “Beauxbatons is high in the mountains, we overlook la vallée de Barétous et la plaine du Piémont. Forgive me, I do not know if they have other English names. While the gardens are created and maintained with much magic, we do enjoy the snow.”

“It sounds nice.” Hallie takes another sip of her drink and then balances it on the snowy chair next to her to take another bite of her food. “I hope I get to go to the Quidditch camp this summer.”

“I think you will.” Fleur gives her a secretive smile. “Ana will be teaching this year, after she is done with Durmstrang, I see no reason she would not accept her protégée.”

“I don’t know if I could be called that.” Hallie blushes and takes another bite. “I mean, there must be plenty of people she’s taught.”

“You might be surprised. I think you are the most talented she has ever taken under her wing.” Fleur turns her head to look over her shoulder suddenly, and Hallie has the same urge to do so, seeing a lone figure striding towards the pitch with a broom on his shoulder.

“Ah!” Fleur stands and waves. “Viktor!”

The thin, willowy Bulgarian man mounts his broom and sails up into the stands, alighting next to them gently.

“Fleur, Hallie.” He gives a cordial little bow and Hallie is struck by how polite he’s being. “I am happy to see you both so well after the task. May I sit?”

Hallie moves her hot chocolate and brushes the snow off the seat for him.

“I am happy to finally have the chance to join you.” Viktor sets his broom across his knees. He seems a touch too tall for the seat, awkwardly hunched forwards. “The High-Master can be… demanding.”

He looks up at Ana and Ginny running through some drills and smiles.

“I see your girlfriend is as good on a broom as you are, Hallie.”

“I think she’s a bit better.” Hallie blushes and is glad her crimson Gryffindor scarf is hiding some of her face. “She didn’t get hit by a dragon.”

“The fault of the egg.” Viktor says gently. “You flew magnificently, I thought that Anastasiya had been exaggerating your skill, but I was wrong.” His native accent creeps out, just a touch, as he says Ana’s full name, and Hallie can’t resist asking.

“Your English is incredible, where did you learn?”

“Ah!” Krum beams and runs a hand through his hair. “I have always loved languages. My mother is from Serbia, I grew up speaking Serbian and Bulgarian interchangeably. English is incredibly useful, and so I put a lot of time into learning it.”

Hallie is aware that her mouth is hanging open, but can’t really bring herself to do anything about it.

“You were not expecting that?” Krum laughs, it’s a harsh bark, but not mean-spirited. “You vould be expecting me to be sounding like dis, ya?” He puts on a very exaggerated accent with a gleam in his eyes. “I am an exception. But my fellow students? Please do not judge them. We are not given any language lessons, they have had to pick it up as they go since we got here. They may even sound unintelligent, but they are grappling with a deeply unfamiliar language. Especially those from Russia, Bulgaria, and other places that do not use your alphabet.”

“I think…” Hallie says slowly. “That you would love my friend Hermione. She’s the smartest in our year!”

“Hermione?” Viktor smiles. “I shall make a note of her name. Would you introduce us?”

“Sure!” Hallie smiles, her worry about Viktor’s dour nature forgotten. Fleur was right, he was lovely to be around when Karkaroff wasn’t breathing down his neck. “She’s in the library most days. Would you like to go now?”

“I would certainly like to later.” Viktor runs a hand along his broom. “I was hoping to fly against you myself, if your arm had recovered, any student of Anastasiya’s must be someone of considerable talent.”

“I’ve not even gotten close to her yet.” Hallie shakes her head.

“But you have much potential!” Viktor protests her humility. “I would love to fly against you next weekend, if your arm has healed by then, I think we could both learn a thing or two.”

“What would you learn from me?” Hallie laughs. “I saw you in the finals. The way you forced Lynch into the spiral… I don’t even know how you did it!”

“There is always something to learn.” Viktor shakes his head. “Everyone has a unique perspective. I learned this with languages. Every accent is unique, every person chooses different words based on how they see the world. For example.” He puts his broom on the floor gently and steeples his fingers. “You say I forced Lynch into the spiral? I did not, he accepted that challenge, willingly.”

“But- I…” Hallie stops herself, but Krum gestures for her to continue.

“Please, speak your mind.”

“You did force Lynch into the spiral. You feinted early to take him out of the game, it was your -that is, Bulgaria’s- playbook the whole tournament. Lynch got up and walked it off because he could, that’s his thing, he’s not as fast or as good at searching, but he can keep other seekers marked and very occupied because he’s hard to take out of the match. So you feinted, forced a spiral, ploughed him, and then used that time to try and see the snitch.”

Krum nods approvingly.

“This is a very understandable read of the situation for you to have, and mostly accurate. But you are, I think, missing two key pieces of information.” He holds up two fingers. “First. Lynch is not, as you said, a typical seeker. He plays very much for his team. Second. Lynch is aware of and cultivates his own style. This is the difference between someone like me, or Anastasiya, and Lynch himself. He is the best seeker in the world, make no question of it. He understands his own limitations, and has built himself a style that uses them to his advantage. He understands the game to a very deep level, enough that even without anyone able to challenge him, he still is able to improve.”

He leans back in his chair, comfortable, and continues,

“It is true that in a straight chase, Lynch cannot best me, he would not, in a straight chase, be able to best Anastasiya either, or Williams, or Asakawa, or Gomez, or almost any other seeker who plays at the international level. As you saw at the end of the finals, I am faster. He accepted my feint because he had to, you are correct, but he did not have to accept the spiral. Think about it, he is bigger than me, slower in a chase but once the spiral was locked in, he had the initiative. I could force him to match my turn rate by entering the right way, but I could not exit the dive without his hitting me. It was all I could do to try and force him to the ground.” He stops talking and looks at Hallie to check her engagement.

When Krum finds her in rapt attention, he continues. “Lynch is happy to accept that gamble, because it is a dangerous move for me to make, one that he can walk off, but I cannot. If I had made a mistake -not unlikely, given the speed-, then the game was over, even if we both hit the ground. I do not get back up. There is nobody to split Ireland’s chasers, or harass their beaters, or mark their keeper for key plays. Lynch is an international class seeker who is willing and able to take punishment for the sake of providing his team with another win condition. He may have lost that gamble, but you may have noticed I was hesitant to perform such a feint again, it is not without risk.”

Fleur hands Viktor a conjured cup full of steaming hot cocoa and he accepts it gracefully, taking a happy drink.

“Thank you, this is delicious. Where was I?”

“Not without risk?” Hallie prompts, taking a drink of her own and another bite from her delicious toastie.

“Ah, yes.” Krum takes another sip. “Lynch is the only seeker in the league who can bring the best out of his chasers and also mark another seeker to perfection. I could not simply leave him to act as a chaser-deterrent, he would find the snitch and I would be too far behind, he is not a slow flier. This is why I think he is the best. He is truly innovating the role.”

Behind them, Fleur takes a sip of her drink and mutters something about Quidditch players. Hallie can’t help but laugh.

*~*

“Potter, a word please.”

Hallie yawns and walks up to Professor McGonagall’s desk as her peers walk off, most of them chattering excitedly about the Yule Ball.

“Yes Professor?”

“The Yule Ball.” McGonagall waves her wand and the cacti the class was practicing switching spells on are returned to their crate en masse. “Would I be correct in assuming you are taking Miss Weasley?”

“Yes Professor.” Hallie bites her lip. “I wasn’t given much choice in the matter.”

McGonagall quirks a tiny smile.

“That is good to hear, now, the champions and their partners will be expected to open the ball with a dance, and-.”

“I can’t dance.” Hallie whispers.

“Well that’s what we’re going to remedy, Potter.” McGonagall looks like she’s resisting rolling her eyes. “This Saturday, you and Miss Weasley will accompany me into Hogsmeade, I will ensure you are properly outfitted for such an occasion. The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizarding world for nearly ten centuries. It falls to me to ensure that you do not in the course of a single evening besmirch that otherwise flawless record.”

Hallie swallows nervously.

“Yes Professor.”

“Now, with that in mind.” McGonagall says. “I will be taking over teaching you to dance on Saturdays as well, we shall have you ready for the ball, Potter.” She turns back to her desk. “And there is one more thing.”

Reaching down, McGonagall pulls an object covered in Gryffindor-crimson silk from underneath her desk and places it on the table.

Hallie reaches out and slowly pulls the silk away.

On the table, there rests the sword of Gryffindor. The very same crushed velvet handle that Hallie last held when she killed a Basilisk.

Slowly, waiting for her head of house to stop her, she reaches out and grasps the handle, lifting it into her hand. It feels the same as it did back in the chamber, like it weighs nothing at all. The handle and its fine chain wrapping sit in her hand like they were made for it. The egg-sized ruby in the pommel glitters in the light and casts red pockets of light around the room and the keen, mirror-shined blade gleams in the torchlight.

“The headmaster has decided, and I have agreed.” McGonagall says slowly. “That should you wish, you will have the option to wear the sword to the ball. You are the one who pulled it from the hat, afterall.”

“I would be honoured.” Hallie whispers, her eyes roving over the golden lettering set into the blade.

Godric Gryffindor.

“Excellent.” Professor McGonagall says. “I shall have a scabbard made.” A note of steel enters her gaze and her voice. “You are being trusted with this honour, Miss Potter. Should you abuse it, heads will roll.  Am I quite clear?”

“Crystal, Professor.” Hallie squeaks, laying the blade down on the silk again.

*~*

Saturday finds Hallie and Ginny trudging through the snow into Hogsmeade beside Professor McGonagall.

“Here we are.” She announces, leading them right to the edge of the village.

“Professor?” Ginny says, confused. “We passed Gladrags a while ago?”

“Gladrags?” McGonagall shakes her head. “Miss Weasley you are representing the pride of the house of Gryffindor. Gladrags will simply not do for this occasion.” She offers both students her arm. “Take my arm, young ladies.”

Hallie places her hand on McGonagall’s arm and then they’re gone with a subtle crack!

Their feet land on cobblestones and Halle hardly has her bearing before she hears a door open.

“Good afternoon.” McGonagall says. “I made an appointment?”

“Minerva!” A warm voice says. “Welcome to Priestly and Sachs.”

“We’re in Diagon Alley?” Hallie mutters, still trying to get her head sorted out.

“Indeed you are, Miss Potter.” McGonagall sounds slightly exasperated, she turns back to the shop-keeper, a tall, thin woman with white hair and very piercing eyes. “Miranda, these are my students, Hallie Potter and Ginevra Weasley.”

I hate that name. Ginny whispers in her head.

“Of course, of course.” The woman welcomes them in. “Who shall be wearing the robes and who shall be wearing the dress? Or shall they both be in dresses? Both in robes?” She looks at them expectantly.

Uh, Gin!?