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Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. 

Holly Weasley

A brunette woman, with hair sprawled out around her head, lay on a dirt floor. “No. Please no”, she cried. Her hands pressed against her abdomen as a warm, red liquid seeped between her fingers. Slowly, we were losing feeling to her lower extremities. The edges of our vision started to blur. 

“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie”, our killer tsked. “You’re getting exactly what you asked for”. The killer spoke calmly; running the edge of a bloodied butcher’s knife along the length of Jessie’s cheek. He didn’t use enough force to cut. Just enough to intimidate. 

I felt bored. I felt terrified. I felt angry. Many different emotions filled this scene as I watched for the hundredth… thousandth time. 

Why? The killer’s face contorted into a demonic figuration. Once, twice, maybe more, the knife plunged into numerous locations on Jessie’s body. Why did I keep reliving this moment? Our last moments of consciousness involved the labored rise and fall of Jessie’s mutilated chest. Soon followed by the sound of gurgling. 

I wanted to move on. To forget.  I wanted to be….

Springing up in bed, my patchwork quilt fell from my shoulders and pooled around my waist as I instinctively breathed through my mouth. My chest strained to calm my beating heart as I surveyed the room. 

Ginny was already awake. I concluded after staring at her empty bed. The morning light shining through the window felt more welcoming than normal. It signaled another day. Another day alive. In this body and not Jessie’s. 

Breathing became easier as I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to tame it. I wanted to let Jessie die for good. I wanted to be…

Not bothering to knock, two heads poked into my shared bedroom. Ginny always left the door open, making it an easy feat to accomplish. “Jolly Holly”, Fred sing-songed; seeing that I was awake. “You’re still in bed? Mum’s going to have a cow if you miss breakfast”. 

George followed after him; leaving the door further ajar. “Another nightmare?” He asked as Fred joined me on the bed; squishing me against the wall. 

Frowning at Fred, I ignored George’s question. All three of us already knew the answer. “Look what was just delivered”, Fred said; dangling a thick envelope with a familiar wax seal in front of my face. 

Forcing a deep breath, I eyed the letter as George drew himself closer. This felt normal. This felt right. With a slight tremor in my hand, I reached up to retrieve what was no doubt my letter from school; containing a list of all the needed supplies for the year. But Fred yanked it higher, out of my reach. 

“Fred”, I complained without any real heat. 

“What? …Oh?” Came Fred’s mock surprise. “The letter. Do you think she wants it, George?” 

Smiling, George shrugged. “Maybe”. He took the letter from Fred’s hand. “But she’s not working very hard for it, is she?”

“George”, I said before Fred could answer, lips twitching. Slowly, I crawled out from under my covers; maneuvering around Fred. “Hand it over”. 

George took a step back; raising his arm to really keep the letter out of reach. Fred snickered close to my ear. “I think you’re right, George. Holly should show us how badly she wants her letter”. 

Taking another step back, George was only semi-prepared when I lunged out of bed; aiming straight for him. 

“Oh, no!” Fred mocked as his arms caught me around the middle and abruptly ended my attack. Motion cut short, my torso flopped over Fred's legs, and my head dangled over the hardwood floor. “Holly, you almost fell out of bed”. 

George was laughing now. It was an infectious laugh that grew when I elbowed Fred in the gut, and we grappled until both of us fell to the floor in a tangled heap. The quilt included. George wasn’t left standing for long. One overzealous roll, and George was forced to collapse on top of us; rattling Ginny’s nightstand in the process. 

My letter fell out of his hand and fluttered towards the ground. The three of us laughed as we wrestled to gain the upper hand. “What’s all that ruckus?” Mum yelled up the stairs. “Fred! George! I told you to wake Holly. Not rough house!” 

All I wanted was to be one of the Weasley triplets. Holly Weasley to be exact. Nothing more. Nothing less. And with no strings attached. 

Back-to-school shopping and Charlie’s farewell dinner were scheduled on the same day. That way, Mum could buy the ingredients for Charlie’s favorite foods, and she’d have a second semi-responsible adult to try and keep the lot of us in line. 

Convening in front of the fireplace, amongst the volume and chaos of my siblings, I stood at the very end of a misshapen line. Ginny clung to my school cloak. Her grubby little hand wrinkled the edge of the fabric. I didn’t complain. In a few years, this cloak would probably be hers. So, if Ginny did damage, it wasn’t my problem. 

“It’s not fair”. She whined in a way only a ten-year-old can. 

“What’s not Fair?” I asked; trying to sound sympathetic. Though it was a struggle; knowing exactly why my little sister was unhappy. 

Ginny leaned into me. Her face pressed against my arm. “Everyone gets to go to Hogwarts except me!” 

Oh, the woes of the youngest child. 

“You’ll start school when you’re eleven. Just like the rest of us”, I reasoned; ignoring Ginny's scoffing.

George stood on the other side of Ginny with Fred on his right. Our conversation was background noise to their ears as they threw bits of rolled-up parchment at Percy’s back. Meaning they could offer me no assistance in cheering up our younger sister as they complimented Percy on his new position. “Prefect Percy”, they called him. Or “Mummy’s Lil’ Prefect”, and “brown-noser”.

… That last one might be my fault. 

Charlie stood between Fred, George and their target. He tried to act as a buffer. But he was as successful as a gnome of degnoming day. Everytime Charlie bushed some of the parchment off Percy's back, more was quickly thrown.

“You’re just jealous”, Percy tried to defend himself, frequently adjusting his glasses to manage his irritation. “Wait until I put you in detention”. However, his threat was useless against Fred and George. Each comment Percy made was met with merciless laughter. 

Ron stood on the other end. Mum busily fussed over him. A fact that probably spared him from Fred and George, and spared Fred and George from Mum. She straightened his homespun cloak. A light blue one that used to belong to Percy. “Mum, it’s fine”, Ron complained. But she ignored him; trying to rub the ever-present dirt off his nose. Ron squirmed under her hands. “It’s fine, Mum! Leave it!”

Sighing, Mum backed off when Ron truly started to squirm. “Alright”, she said; wiping her hands of it. As if the hygiene of an eleven-year-old boy was a lost cause. And, in a way, it kind of was. Stepping back, she eyed all seven of us. Sizing us up and running some mental calculations. “We’ll go in pairs”, she decided. “Ginny with me. Ron with Charlie. Fred and George will go together. And Holly with Percy”. 

The grip on my cloak tightened. “I want to go with Holly”, Ginny complained. 

Mum shook her head. Ginny didn’t understand. She couldn’t appreciate how much strategic planning went into Mum’s choices. Since Ginny and Ron were the youngest, they’d stick with her and the second eldest. Mostly because she didn’t trust to rest of us to watch them for long periods of time. 

To be fair, I did lose Ron once when the wizarding circus came to a nearby wizarding settlement. But he ran away from me!

It was always a gamble to allow Fred and George to wander off together. But overall, Percy’s mental health had to be taken into consideration. Mum walked over to Ginny and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Best come with me”, she reasoned. “We need to get you fitted for a new dress”. 

Ginny became more agreeable at the promise of something new. She stopped holding onto my school cloak. It was a rare occurrence in this household… at least, it was for the youngest. 

“We’ll meet at the Leaky Cauldron. Let’s say… 3:30”. Mum said as she moved back to Charlie. “That will give me enough time to cook dinner”, she mumbled to herself; pulling out a small coin purse for Charlie to take. “Ron has his school list”, Mum said; nodding to her youngest son. “He already has his cauldron and your old wand. I’m hemming some of Fred and George’s old robes. So, all you need to buy are potion ingredients and maybe a new copy of The Standard Book of Spells Grade One, and A History of Magic, because someone decided to draw in hers”. Mum shot me a look.

One that caused Fred and George to snigger at my expense. I turned sheepish in response. I mean, wasn’t Binns already dead when she was a student? Mum should know what his class is like. 

Once Charlie had the coin purse in his possession, Mum added, “And buy whatever you need, Charlie, love. We don’t know what will be available in Romania”.  

Charlie's returning smile came easily . “It’s okay, Mum. The reserve gave me an advance on my wages to help with the move”. 

“Oh, such a good boy”, Mum gushed as she moved on. 

The next coin purse was entrusted to Percy. “There’s enough for you and Holly. Buy only what we don’t have at home. But Dad and I put in a little extra so you may buy a reward for becoming a prefect”. 

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Percy blushed as he pocketed the coin purse. “Thank you, Mum”.

Mum nodded, proud as can be. “Oh”, she said as if having just remembered; turning towards me. “Holly, you need at least one new skirt for school, and stockings. I can’t keep patching them. And make sure your skirt is at least knee-length”. I tried not to roll my eyes. The freedom to dress as I pleased was a luxury of adulthood I hadn’t fully appreciated until it was gone. 

The last coin purse went to George. “Just school supplies”, Mum instructed firmly as the coin purse disappeared into George’s trouser pocket. “Parchment, quills, and potion ingredients. And don’t let me catch hide or hair of either of you near Knockturn Alley”. 

“Yes, Mum”, said Fred and George. They grinned devilishly. If it was a sign of forewarning, no one commented.

 My eyes lingered on them as Charlie and Ron stepped into the fireplace first. They were the best of us. Clever. Bright. And possessing a type of humor and glee that was contagious. Fred and George had been like this since we were born. A grounding light that made it possible to live again… And I was about to ruin the rest of their childhood. That will be a funny way to show gratitude. 

Percy and I went next; forcing me to tear my gaze away from my fellow triplets. There was still today. I told myself as I took a handful of floo powder. This day in Diagon Alley can be unburdened. And then… maybe tonight, I’d have to fess up.

Once the green flames subsided, I stepped out of the way and fell into step with Percy. He led us to the used clothing store we always visited. Every few steps, Percy cast a cautious look over his shoulder. “Any idea what you want to get for your reward?” I asked; trying to distract him. Despite Percy’s fears, Fred and George would not be sneaking up behind him to cause mayhem. Not when they wanted to procure potion ingredients for their experiments. But Percy didn’t need to know that. Especially when he probably wouldn’t believe me. 

He looked at me and shook his head. “I have an idea”, Percy admitted solemnly. Just loud enough to be heard over the foot traffic that echoed off the buildings of Diagon Alley. “But I’m not sure if we can afford it”. 

“What is it?” I asked; pausing to let an elderly wizard waddle across our path.

“An owl”, Percy said once we started forward again. “It’d be much more efficient if I didn’t have to share Errol. And Errol is… well…” Percy trailed off. It was hard for any of us to badmouth Erroll… except Ron. Errol had been around before Bill was born. Before Erroll’s eyesight started to go, Bill had taught him how to play fetch. Errol never got put out if Ron or Ginny got a little rough with him when they were toddlers. He used to make shrieking noises if Fred and George tried to leave the house in the middle of the night. Erroll was a fellow Weasley, and no one would be able to convince us otherwise. But that didn’t mean Percy wouldn’t desire a younger owl.  

What many didn’t know was that Percy had a soft spot for animals. Not crazy, magical, or dangerous animals like Hagrid or Charlie. But house pets. Owls. Cats. Dogs… Rats. “What about Scabbers?” I asked; trying to hide a shudder. 

Fred, George, and I had been three when Percy found his pet. Initially, I tried throwing tantrums to get the rat thrown out. I was ignored. I tried telling the truth. No one believed me. Since then, I’ve tried: getting my hands on rat poison, finding a cat, setting mouse traps… nothing worked. 

“I’m thinking of giving him to Ron”, Percy said casually. Unaware of my inner horror. 

Because Merlin’s beard! My baby brother was about to share his bed with a murderer. “He’s never had a pet”, Percy continued. “I mean, neither have you triplets. But I think Fred and George would only use him to test their inventions. And-” The look Percy sent my way was knowing. No further words were needed. If Scabbers was gifted to me, the bastard wouldn’t survive to see morning… even if that meant poor Sirius Black would never have his name cleared.    

We stopped in front of the used clothing store. The sounds of shoppers chatting amongst themselves washed over me as if my head were underwater. Merlin, I hated that rat. Scabbers was a constant reminder of the horrible things waiting in the future. Inescapable hardship waiting to be faced. 

“Holly?” Percy asked as he nervously looked me over. Reaching out, he grabbed my shoulders; pulling us both out of the shop’s entranceway. That way, we weren’t blocking people from entering or leaving the shop. “Are you alright?” He asked once my brown eyes seemed to focus once more. 

“Yeah, sorry”, I said; looking at everything except Percy. “Girl problems”. 

Percy immediately removed his hands as if he’d been burned. “I’m going to look at the sweaters”. He nodded in the direction of the men’s section. “Find me when you’re done”, Percy ordered before stalking away with his shoulders raised to hide his blushing ears. 

I watched him go; feeling more amused than was strictly warranted. For someone hoping to get a girlfriend, Percy needed to get over his aversion to ‘girl problems’.

One pair of black stockings and two slightly used school skirts later, Percy and I made our way to the bookstore. “I’ve counted the money”, Percy said as we traveled. “I think there is enough to get an owl”. 

“Do you want to go to the pet store after this?” I asked as we approached Flourish and Blotts. This was my favorite store in all of Diagon Alley. There was just something thrilling about being surrounded by walls and walls of books. I took the steps leading to the storefront two at a time as Percy followed at a more composed gait. 

He hummed to himself. “Let’s go there last”. Percy shadowed my steps as I weaved through the different shelves. “It’s warm today, and I don’t want to keep it in a cage longer than necessary”.

Nodding to prove I was listening, I searched the shelves for a specific title. “What book do you need that we don’t already own?” Percy asked, his eyes tracking my progress. 

“Arithmancy”, I answered. “Bill took his copy with him to Egypt”. He also took his Ancient Runes book. But Charlie had a copy we could use. 

Percy shook his head. The movement registered in the corner of my eyes. It was nice- no longer needing glasses. There were no frames blocking my peripherals. “I can’t believe you three are taking Arithmancy. Why did Fred and George choose that as one of their electives?”

It was a fair question. Finding the right book, I pulled it from the shelf; wrapping a hand around its spine. Automatically, I noted that it would be the heaviest textbook I’ve ever owned. Including my time at university. 

“They’re not taking Arithmancy”, I explained; starting for the till. 

“Oh”. Percy sounded surprised. “I assumed…What electives are Fred and George taking?”  Fred, George, and I were often lumped together. It wasn’t an annoying assumption. We liked being close. Often inseparable, it's not like we gave people much evidence to think otherwise. 

“Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes”, I answered; coming to a halt at the end of the check-out line. “Though we’re taking Ancient Runes together”. I hadn’t known what I wanted to do when the sign-ups for electives came around. Stomaching Trelawney for three years felt nauseating. So, Divination was quickly crossed out. 

I wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures. It always sounded like fun in the books. And Buckbeak was a motivating factor. But then I remember the Monster Book of Monsters and ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the headache. 

Muggle Studies had been a possibility. I played around with the idea of taking it for weeks. Maybe it would have been a nostalgic experience; learning about things I used to take for granted. On the other hand, it could have been very boring; knowing how things worked and what they were made for.

So, when Fred and George begged me to take Ancient Runes, it didn’t take much convincing. And the only other subject was Arithmancy, so…

“Still. Those two want to take a serious subject like Ancient Runes…” Percy gave another shake of his head. We moved up in line. “But I’m proud of you, Holly”. 

The statement had me turning around, my back facing the line. Quirking an eyebrow at Percy, I didn’t need to voice my question. Had he ever been proud of me before? “For branching out. It’s nice to see you thinking for yourself”. 

… That felt like a backhanded compliment. Fred and George may be more vocal. But it’s not like they talk for me.

“Thanks, Perce”, I said; deciding to take it at face value. There was no sense in starting an argument. Especially when there was nothing to accomplish. Facing forward once more, there were now only three shoppers ahead of us. 

“Um”, Percy mumbled softly. I glanced over my shoulder in his direction. “Are you, by any chance, taking Arithmancy because Pucey is too?” 

Groaning, I allowed my shoulders to slump. “Percy”, I complained; turning to face him once again. “This is how rumors get started. Please don’t do this to me”.

Awkwardly, Percy removed his glasses so he could rub them clean with the bottom of his shirt. Anything to avoid eye contact. “Pucey and I are potion lab partners. That is it. I don’t even know what electives he’s taking this year”. 

“It’s odd”, Percy argued. “For a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to be partners”. 

“Snape paired us up”.    

“And then there was that time you were caught exchanging love letters in the halls”, Percy continued. 

Damn the Hogwarts rumor mill. “They were notes from class”, I corrected; raising my eyes toward the ceiling and asking Merlin for patience. 

“I just think you should focus on your studies instead of… of…” Despite getting tongue-tied and the color quickly filling Percy’s teeth, his eyes expressed earnestness. “Charlie and Bill would agree”. 

Clutching my new Arithmancy book to my chest, I suppressed the urge to throw it at my glasses-wearing brother. Oh, well, if Charlie and Bill have an opinion that changes everything! 

“For the last time! Pucey and I are just potions partners. We’re not dating and we never will!” My voice came out louder than is appropriate for a bookstore. Percy started to cough and make abortive motions with his hands. But I was on a roll. “I mean, why do people think we like each other? He never smiles. Wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him on the ass. Most of the time, he looks bored out of his mind”. 

“Holly-” Percy tried. 

“Fred and George can’t stand him. And there’s no way I’m his type. Red hair. Freckles. And three older brothers. Five if we include Fred and George. Good Merlin, dating another Gryffindor will be my only option. A bloke from any other house isn’t going to be brave enough to withstand our family”. Finally, Percy’s anxious motions and panicked eyes clicked in my mind. “What?” I asked; taking a breath. 

“Weasley”, a voice greeted from behind. 

I twirled around. My school cloak swished against my calves. Standing apart from the shortening line, holding a book wrapped in brown parchment, was the last person I was expecting to see. “Pucey”, I returned the greeting; gulping nervously as my shoulders tensed. How long had he been here? I eyed the wrapped book in his hands. A clear sign of a recent purchase. Had he been in front of us? 

…. Had Pucey heard every word? 

“Good summer?” Pucey asked. A smug little smile on his face. It was enough to confirm my fears. 

“Very pleasant”, I offered; praying to wizard god that my face didn’t currently match my hair. “And yours?” 

“Enjoyable”, Pucey said as he cast a sideways glance at Percy. Probably wondering if this brother was one to be wary of. 

Pucey was very poised. His disposition matched his neatly groomed hair and pristinely kept clothes. It made me more aware of the patched knees on my brothers’ hand-me-downs. “I must be off. My mother is waiting for me across the street. Weasley”, Pucey acknowledged Percy before returning his attention to me. “And Weasley”. He bowed a little. “See you in Arithmancy”. 

As Percy and I watched Pucey exited the book shop, I held my breath. Barely managing to keep it together until Pucey was no longer in sight. Audibly groaning, I thumped my head against the hard cover of my new book; holding it close to my chest to hide my burning face. That prat! He could’ve interrupted Percy and me sooner. If I had known he was here, I wouldn’t have described Pucey like…like that! 

“Now”, Percy spoke very slowly. “When you said you didn’t know what electives Pucey was taking…” Percy trailed off upon feeling the heat of my murderous glare.

With arms loaded full of parchment, ink, and other purchases, Percy and I headed for the last stop of the day: Eeylops Owl Emporium. This time, Percy led with a certain amount of pep in his gait. “A barn owl, perhaps. Or maybe an eagle owl”, Percy muttered to himself as he held open the store’s door for me to enter first. I didn’t mind his muttering. It’s nice to see Percy happy for a change. 

Taking his time, Percy peered into every cage and studied every owl on every perch. The eagle owl was ruled out for being too domineering. “I’ll be using my owl to submit resumes, after all”, Percy told me. 

There’s no room for another great grey in Percy’s heart. That spot was solely held for Erroll. The snowy owl wasn’t even considered as it was “simply too showy”. Before I continued to follow my brother around the shop, I paused to take a closer look. Was this the soon-to-be Hedwig? 

… It was a weird feeling.  

When I caught up, Percy had moved on to a fake wooden tree with numerous limbs. Each was occupied by a scops owl. “They’re cute”, I said; standing next to Percy as we watched the little owls hoot and hop about. 

“Cute”, Percy agreed. Probably just to humor me. “But not efficient. They’re too small to carry a package, and I doubt they’d fare well in foul weather”. Percy spared me a look before moving on. “You must be practical about these types of things, Holly”. 

“I don’t need to be practical. You’re practical enough for both of us”, I said evenly as I followed Percy to the screech owls.

Percy wasn’t listening to me. His attention was fixated on a grey screech owl as it groomed its feathers on a singular perch. “He looks like a strong flyer”, Percy said. As if he understood, the owl stopped his preening and fluttered down. Without being asked, he landed on Percy’s shoulder and started tugging at Percy’s curls with his beak. Percy smiled. Taking two fingers, he stroked the bird’s back. “I think he likes me”. Percy’s expression was soft. It was the same one he wore the first time he got to hold Ginny. 

“I’m happy for you, Perce”, I said. Even though I think the owl was searching for bugs and feelings of preference played no part in his behavior. But it’s important to let Percy have his moments when he can. 

Percy nodded once; having made a decision. As he walked over to the witch sitting behind the front counter to pay, he said, “Looks like Ron will be getting a pet rat”. 

And… Suddenly, I’m cursing Percy and his good mood; feeling an unbearable weight on my shoulders. Oh, joy. Ron and his pet psychopath. The very same that he’d carry around in his pockets. The one that I’ve failed to dispose of. World-class big sister, I am. 

Sighing disdainfully, I hung my head, not watching as Percy paid for his new friend. I can’t do this. Not by myself.   

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A Weasley Sandwich

“Of all the half-wit, brainless ideas!” Mum’s shrill unhappiness echoed out of the kitchen and leaked into the living room. It was as familiar as the creaking floorboards or the squeaky pipes. Something everyone had learned to tune out when not on the receiving end. “Why, I have half a mind…”

Except, today I was struggling to ignore it. Foot bouncing against the old rug, I sat in the settee; staring at the archway that led to the Kitchen. At this angle, I could see the left side of George’s head. Both he and Fred were being held hostage. Ordered to sit at the table as Mum explained their wrongdoings. 

They’d try to look contrite. But no one who got a good look would be fooled. The shaking of their shoulders made silent snickers evident. And if one were to get close enough, they’d see the signs of smiles on their downturned faces.  

Pots and pans banged and clattered as Mum continued her scolding. She never could sit still. Not when we did something to provoke her. Sighing, I ran my fingers over the coarseness of the settee fabric; trying to determine if I should like the reprieve or be bothered by it. Fred and George would probably be stuck at that table until after dinner. So much for coming clean as soon as we returned home. 

Ron sat on the woven rug in front of me. Percy had already handed over Scabbers. Something that had provoked a genuine, happy smile from the boy. And directed toward Percy too. A chessboard was set up before him. But Ron wasn’t really playing. It’s hard to play chess by yourself. Even if pieces can move independently. 

Honestly, I was surprised he hadn’t left. The living room wasn’t a popular place to be while Mum was on the rampage. For example, Charlie had taken Ginny on a walk to avoid having to listen. I, myself, liked to occupy the second-story window seat when things downstairs were a little too loud. And Ron had prime real estate. With his bedroom at the very top of the house, he couldn't hear anything coming from the kitchen. 

“Why are you playing chess by yourself?”

Ron’s shoulders hunched forward. “Percy said we could have a game. But then Mum went off. Percy didn’t want the yelling to scare Hermes, so he hasn’t come down yet”. Ron spoke mournfully; staring at the chessboard as if it were his only friend. Oh, the woes of a neglected little brother.   

Pent-up energy had me out of the settee before I could voice my intent. “I’ll play”. With a shrug that I tried to make casual, I lowered myself to the floor; criss-crossing my legs as I took the position across from my little brother. With my feet pinned under me, my knees started to bounce as I waited to be absorbed into the game. With a distraction, hopefully, I’d make it through dinner without exploding. 

Just a few hours, I lied to myself. Scabbers would only be safe for a few more hours. 

“But you’re rubbish at chess”, Ron whined.  

This brat. “Fine”. I let my face turn stony and made a show of standing. “If you'd rather play by yourself, I’ll find a book instead”. 

“No!” Ron was quick to respond. His head snapped up as he used his eyes to plead his case. “You can play”. 

Expression softening, my knees returned to bouncing, flapping like a pair of butterfly wings, as I waited for Ron to make the first move. Despite earlier claims, Ron didn’t care that I wasn’t a strategist like him. Every captured chess piece earned a gleeful look. Any praise I offered after a win was eaten up like one of Mum’s baked goods. Ron shined. Unconcerned about the genuine laugh that escaped him upon taking out my bishop without me realizing it was in danger. Looking at Ron, no one would have guessed that Mum was in the other room yelling at her two middle children.   

Our table sat eight comfortably. And when I say comfortably, I mean we were cosy. Used to minding our elbows and keeping track of which glass belonged to whom. It helped that not all our dishware matched. Along with a hodge-podge collection of chairs that surrounded the table. 

Though Fred, Percy, and Charlie didn’t complain when Bill moved out and they got to adjust to extra elbow room. Hmm, now that Charlie would be leaving, we’d have to see about someone moving to their side of the table. 

“This looks great, Mum”, Charlie complimented as he speared a big slice of roast beef onto his plate. Followed by an end piece being served to Ginny. He tried to help Ron with the serving platter as well, but the youngest boy wasn’t having it.

“I can do it myself!” 

“Ronald”, Mum warned; her voice cutting through his complaint in one fell swoop. Her eyes narrowed; zeroing in on Ron as she passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to George. 

Face flushing, Ron pouted at his plate while Charlie, unaffected, gave Ron the second biggest piece of beef. Reserving the best for Dad’s arrival. “At Hogwarts, you’ll have to help yourself soon enough”, Charlie gently reminded; passing the serving platter to Percy before picking up the bowl of boiled cabbage salad. Then it was Ginny’s turn to frown at her plate. And not because Charlie had given her a big helping of smelly veg. 

I made no comment when George placed a ladle full of potatoes on my plate before reaching around me to pass the bowl to Ron. I doubt George even thought about it, but I could feel Mum’s eyes watching. And again when Fred received the serving platter from Percy, and reached across the table to place slices of beef on George’s and my plate before serving himself. 

Knowing it was coming, I played with the corner of my napkin. “Fred, George and Holly can serve themselves”. 

Ron immediately sparked indignation. “But you said-”

“This is different”, Mum insisted. Manners vs. independence. Two different lessons Mum was trying to teach Ron and me.

In the summer months, we kept the garden door and the kitchen windows open. Especially after Mum had been cooking. As a way to let out the heat of the stove, oven, or hearth that was always lit. And to welcome in a summer breeze whenever possible. A few well-placed household charms kept bugs from coming inside. It was nice; listening to the crickets as we talked and laughed about inane topics. Light and laughter poured out of the kitchen and into the garden as meals progressed. Many of Holly’s memories started at this table.   

A household rule, no one began eating until everyone had a portion of everything. But we didn’t have to wait for Dad to return home. Enthused by his work and often being called into last-minute emergencies meant that Dad’s quitting time tended to be sporadic. 

When Dad did arrive home, he always started with an upbeat, “Evening Weasleys!” Before hanging his hat and cloak by the coat rack that stood by the door. 

“Hi, Dad”, came a chorus of greetings as he ruffled the top of Ginny’s hair; stepping sideways to reach Mum’s spot and kiss her on the cheek. “Food looks good”, Dad complimented; clapping Charlie on the shoulder as he returned to the head of the table. The spot that was closest to the garden door. 

Out of habit, we’d pause in eating and talking. Taking a coordinated and rehearsed effort to pass the different bowls and platters for Dad to collect his portions. “Mashed potatoes, cabbage salad”, Dad listed as he added a ladle full of each offering to his plate. “And roast beef”. Dad looked up at Charlie and smiled; looking misty-eyed. “All your favorites”. 

Charlie passed Dad the salt shaker. “Don’t worry. I’m going to visit. Nothing in Romania will compare to Mum’s cooking”. 

Red-cheeked, Mum busied herself with cutting up her beef into bite-sized portions. However, there was no masking the pleased-as-punch expression Mum tried to hide. It wasn’t hard to get in Mum’s good graces. The real challenge was staying there.  

“So, what did everyone do today?” Dad asked; glancing around the table expectantly as he placed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.    

“We got the shopping done”, Mum said calmly. A little too calmly. 

Glancing to my left, I caught Fred and George exchanging looks. How would they play this? Dad was more trusting than Mum. Forgiving too. But he’d never side against his wife… which may be the only reason we haven’t accidentally burned down the house yet. But they were spared a few moments longer when an excited Ginny broke in. “Mummy got me a new dress”. She leaned closer to Dad and absent-mindedly waved her fork. A little bit of cabbage flew off and hit Ron on his cheek. Ron wiped it off with an affronted expression. 

“Is that right?” Dad asked; sounding terribly interested. Although being the one who had to pay for it, I suspect Dad already knew. 

Ginny nodded. Enthused as the rest of us used this time to stuff our faces. “It’s purple with a blue sash and there are little daisies on the skirt”. Ginny described while every male at the table, except Dad, dozed off. “Oh!” Ginny suddenly exclaimed; startling Ron who had his nose so close to his plate that he was practically inhaling his food. “And Percy got an owl! She’s very cute”. 

Percy coughed into a closed fist; asking for a chance to speak. He was the only one who felt the need to advertise his intention. “He”, Percy corrected; looking directly at Ginny to make sure she understood. “And as I told Holly earlier, cuteness is unimportant. What is important is that Hermes is loyal and a talented flyer”. 

“How do you know Hermes is loyal? You’ve only had him for a couple of hours”, I interjected. 

At the same time, Dad said, “You named him Hermes. Clever name for an owl. What type of owl is he?”

And I was ignored completely. A common enough occurrence in a family this large. “A screech owl”, Percy answered proudly. “The best in the shop. Holly was there. She can attest to this”, Percy finished; nodding his head in my direction. 

“Holly”, Dad said as he moved on to his next offspring. “You went shopping with Percy?” I nodded; taking time to swallow my food. “And what did you buy?” 

“Not a lot. Mum said I needed a new skirt for school, and I found two that were a good fit”. 

“Stockings”, Mum broke in. “Did you get the stockings?” 

I nodded at her once. “Yes, I got stockings too”. Then, turning back to Dad. “I only needed one book this year, and other than that, it was just the regular amount of parchment and ink”. Purposely, I left any mention of potion ingredients.  

“It sounds like you two had a nice day”, Dad said in reference to Percy and me. He began to chew on a piece of beef. 

“Yes”, Mum agreed. By her posture, we could tell she had more to say. But she waited. It was very nice of her to let Dad finish chewing. 

George nudged my foot under the table. He and Fred gave me their best puppy eyes when I glanced their way. With a soundless exhale, I agreed to play along. Even if it was a useless endeavor. “How was work, Dad?” 

Mum’s eyes bored into me as Dad’s entire face lit up. “Marvelous”, Dad said; gesturing with his hands as emphasis. “Absolutely stunning. Someone brought in a hoover today. Fascinating thing, a hoover. Unfortunately, it had been cursed to consume everything it touched. But when used for their intended purposes, muggles find them very useful”, Dad said. 

“Arthur”, Mum tried to interrupt. 

“Muggles use them to clean”. Dad looked around the table. Nodding his head as if to say ‘I know, I didn’t believe it either’. 

“Arthur!” Mum said again. This time louder; stopping Dad from going into further detail about the functions of a vacuum. Once Dad was looking at her, Mum returned to her inside voice. “You didn’t ask Fred and George what they did today”. 

“Oh?” Dad's tone was cautious. Past experiences had taught him to suspect the worst. He eyed his identical sons wearily. 

Laughing nervously, George rubbed the back of his head as Fred said, “We didn’t need a whole lot either. Mostly potion supplies”. 

Dad took his time; thinking through the implications of their words. “Well… that doesn’t seem-”

“Arthur”, Mum interjected again. “Your sons tried to purchase an ingredient they were too young to buy. They badgered a random adult to purchase it for them. A complete stranger!” 

“Now, boys”. Dad put down his fork. “There are age restrictions for a reason”. 

“You didn’t know who this person was!” Mum continued. Now, directly to Fred and George. “He could have been a criminal. Or a murderer! What if he had tried to kidnap you?” 

“Mum!” Fred complained; sounding exasperated. “We wouldn’t have gotten ourselves killed or snatched. It’s not like there are dark wizards wandering around Diagon Alley”. 

Well, I thought; taking a sip of water to hide a wince. There aren’t any dark wizards yet. Give it time. We still had a couple more years before that became a concern.  

Charlie spoke up as Mum, Fred, and George argued about rights and wrongs, and Dad tried to play peacekeeper. “Gin, Ron? Do you want to see if we can catch fireflies by the pond?” 

Standing, Ron and Ginny nodded as they made a hasty retreat. “I’ll come too”, I said; abandoning my mostly eaten dinner. The four of us made for the garden as Percy excused himself. No doubt to check on Hermes. Both were better options than being caught in the crossfire of a Mum, and Fred and George fight.

I didn’t sleep that night. Anticipation. Dread. These things kept me awake as I listened to the house and its occupants; waiting for everything and everyone to settle for the night. Once sure we wouldn’t be interrupted… once sure I could finally get Fred and George alone, I’d finally move forward. 

I played with the fabric of the quilt that covered my bed. On the opposite side of the room, Ginny slumbered. Unaware of my watch. Outside our window, even the summer crickets were quiet. A sign, maybe, of the fast-approaching fall. I was out of time. 

There were many different ways to broach this subject. Many opportunities. After we found the Maurader’s Map… After my fifth, sixth, or seventh attempt at trying to dispose of Scabbers. When I researched reincarnation in the school library for no obvious reason… Every time I made some obscure comment about Muggle pop culture that went over their heads. 

But I’d chickened out every time. Hoping to belong. Wanting to keep them out of this nonsense. Even if it wasn’t fair. Even when I knew who would die if I did … nothing.

The problem is, this wasn’t a do-nothing situation. Sighing, I glanced at Ginny one more time. Her head rested heavily on her pillow, eyes peacefully shut. How I wished to be able to sleep like her. 

With quiet and careful movements, I slipped out of bed. On tip-toes, I moved for the door. The door that is always opened just a crack because Ginny didn’t like to sleep with it closed. It was easy to reach the hallway and climb the stairs; being mindful of the one step that creaks. I’ve made this midnight trek many times. Sometimes multiple times a week. I could have done it with my eyes closed. Which is just as well, my thoughts being elsewhere. 

As a first-year, I read everything I could about reincarnation. It was my first opportunity to figure out… what I was. Unfortunately, knowledge on the subject was scarce and frightening. Reincarnation was a piece of magic no one understood. Or maybe the department of mysteries was keeping information to themselves. There was no rhyme, reason, or logic to it. Some theorists believed everyone had a past life. But only a handful remembered them. Others thought reincarnation was complete hogwash. 

Nevertheless, reincarnated people had been subjected to experimentation to see how it worked. Or, if their claims weren’t believed, some reincarnated found themselves institutionalized. It wasn’t until the 1900s that laws were created to protect reincarnated souls. 

I was not responsible for the actions of my past life. Unresolved debt, crimes, taxes; none of that followed me. Even then, experimentation or hospitalization was never outlawed. Maybe because so few reincarnated people came forward. The laws mostly made it so I couldn’t be forced to take veritaserum. Nor would the law treat me like an adult while I was biologically underage. 

Outside Fred and George’s door, I didn’t knock. No permission was needed. Not for me. Neither of the boys stirred as I entered. Used to me appearing in the middle of the night, their sleep was undisturbed. Fred lay on his stomach; his arms spread out over the sides of his bed. I skipped his bed in favor of George’s. George’s bed was the furthest from the door. And it’s where I feel the most comfortable. 

“George”, I whispered; kneeling by his bed to shake his shoulder. 

Nothing I read assuaged me of my greatest fears. Would Mum and Dad still see me as Holly if I came forward? Or would I become a stranger? Would they believe me? Would I be treated as some weird and dangerous entity? Something too unsafe to be kept near their real children. A grown woman pretending to be a schoolgirl. 

“George”, I whispered louder. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled in my direction. 

The literature suggested otherwise. There wasn’t much, but what I found said the same things. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I was thirteen. Just a thirteen-year-old with memories belonging to a woman in her twenties. However, there were no promises others would see it that way. 

George opened his eyes. His gaze unfocused as sleep tried to keep him under. “Nightmares?” George mumbled; pushing his quilt back so I had room to lie next to him. 

“No”, I answered; maintaining my kneeling position. “I mean… not yet”. 

George blinked. The strange phrasing pulled him further into consciousness. “What?” Lethargically, George sat up. 

“I need to tell you something. And Fred…” I looked over my shoulder at the sleeping Fred. Oh, Merlin. If I thought George and I could handle this on our own, I’d leave him out of it. But we were triplets. We shared textbooks and treated our trunks and their contents like shared property. We’d never be able to lie to him. “And it has to stay between the three of us”, I insisted. 

Frowning, eyes searching, George whispered to the other bed. “Fred”. 

Our fellow triplet grumbled unhappily. “Fred”, George tried again. When that didn’t work, George took one of his pillows and tossed it in Fred’s direction. “Fred”, George whispered again as the pillow landed on the back of Fred’s head. 

“What?” Fred complained; rolling over and knocking the pillow to the ground. In the dark, I could just make out his mussed hair. 

“Holly’s being weird”, George said. Leaning against his headboard, George situated himself before reaching down and grabbing my hand; pulling me up to join him. 

“That’s nothing new”, Fred retorted as I curled against George’s side. “You didn’t need to wake me to share that”. Still, he propped himself on his elbows, alert and expectant.

“I need to tell you something”. I whispered. George moved his quilt to cover us both. “It’s big, and… Oh, Merlin, you’ll have to trust me. You have to believe me”. 

A look passed between Fred and George. It wasn’t common for me to plead like this. “We’re all ears, Jolly Holly”, George said, his tone gentle. 

“This will be easier if you don’t interrupt me”, I continued; stalling. “It’s going to sound outlandish”. It is outlandish, I corrected in my head. “Farfetched, unbelievable”. 

George looped an arm over my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. While Fred sat fully upright; swinging his legs out of bed and balancing his elbows on his knees. “Try us”, he ordered; fighting a yawn. 

I took one deep inhale; steeling my nerves. And then… “I’m not actually Holly Weasley”. Instantly, I wished to have phrased that differently. “I mean, I am. But… I wasn’t always”. Another deep breath. Fred and George watched and waited in silence; knowing I’d vomit my words before too long. “Before we were born”, I tried again. “I was someone else. Someone who died and then became Holly”. 

Pausing; I tried to gauge their reactions. George didn't retract his arm from my shoulders. That had to be a good sign, right? And Fred’s expression, even darkened by the night, suggested curiosity. “It’s very rare, Holls”, George said. “But not unheard of”. 

Fred nodded in agreement. “There’s been witches and wizards who remember past lives. And we know it’s possible because of phoenixes”. 

Clutching fistfuls of George's quilt, I tried to decide if I should feel relief for clearing the first hurdle or if I should remain stressed for the shoe yet to drop. “It’s a lot more complicated than just reincarnation”.

When I was silent a little too long, Fred snorted; drawing our attention to him. “What? It’s not like you were You-Know-Who in a past life”. 

George muffled a laugh; tilting his head back to keep the noise inward. But when I didn’t join in or even retort, he leaned closer to me. “Wait?” He started to say, the question was clear. 

“No”, I said firmly. The boys nodded as if they knew it all along. “I can’t be You-Know-Who reborn because You-Know-Who hasn’t died yet”. And then I’m talking faster than I ever have before. I mentioned J.K.Rowling and how I grew up reading her books… the first time I was growing up. I told them about our family becoming very important to the famous Mr. Harry Potter. Ron specifically. And everything else I could think of in one go; the philosopher’s stone, the basilisk in the chamber, the innocent Sirius Black, the return of You-Know-Who, the ill-fated trip to the Department of Mysteries, the death of Dumbledore, and how Harry Potter would save our world. 

Fred and George hung on my every word. By the time I finished, their eyes had grown to the size of saucers. A tense moment passed as the three of us stared at each other. Dear Merlin. Here’s hoping I hadn’t broken them.    

Still, it felt good. Finally being honest. “You don’t believe me”. I cracked first; hunching my back and leaning heavily against George. How could I get them to believe me? How much had to happen before the truth was evident? The troll in the dungeon? Finding Fluffy? What about Hagrid’s baby dragon? 

“What am I going to have for breakfast tomorrow?” Fred asked out of the blue. 

I looked at him and squinted. “What?” 

“Fred”, George interceded. “She’s reincarnated. Not a seer”. Then George turned his attention to me and asked an equally confusing question. “What’s your name?” 

This time, I squinted my eyes at him. “Holly”, I said slowly. Maybe he slipped into a state of shock due to all the information I dumped on him. 

George shook his head. “Your name before you died”, he clarified. 

Oh. “Jessie”, I mumbled. The name felt weird leaving my mouth; having not used it in thirteen some years.  

“Do you want us to call you Jessie?” Fred sounded guarded. 

“No”. My response was automatic. At this point, any other name felt… wrong. “Jessie’s been dead for a long time”, I forced myself to look George and Fred in the eyes. “I am Holly”. I tried to assure them… and myself. “Jessie is just… a memory”. 

Fred nodded once. “Good”. 

“Good?” I questioned. 

“Yeah”, Fred said. “The only thing that rhymes with Jessie is messy".  

“And that’s not nearly as fun to say as Jolly Holly”, George concluded. I shook my head in disbelief. That’s what they’re focusing on? “Why tell us now and not sooner?” George went on to ask. 

I pursed my lips. “Ron starts school this year. Which means Harry will too. So…” 

Fred cut me off. “This year there’ll be a three-headed dog guarding a stone at Hogwarts”. 

I nodded as George asked, “But why tell us at all?”

It felt like my heart stopped. Holding my breath, it became impossible to look at either of my fellow triplets. This was it. I told myself. The worst part. And then we can get to work preventing it from ever happening. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Not really. Just me existing can change things. There is… was no Holly Weasley in the books. But if things do pan out as they did then…” I paused; taking a labored breath. 

Crying a little, I reached for Fred; leaning out of George’s hold to grasp Fred’s hand from where it rested on his knee. It felt warm and callused from playing too much quidditch. Too afraid to let go, I held on as tightly as I could. “Then in about seven years, during the war, you’re going to die protecting Percy”. 

Through our clasped hands, I felt Fred go limp as tears started to fall from my eyes in a flurry. George too, had gone catatonic. I suppose, after learning of your own death, the next worst thing was to learn about your twin’s death. Though… They aren’t twins. Not this time. 

“Me being here… me telling you all this might make the future worse. But I thought… if we worked together, maybe we can stop it from happening”. 

I barely got the last word out before Fred was sliding to the floor; kneeling in front of George’s bed. He pulled me into his arms; crushing my ribs. “I’m not going to die”, he said, voice shaking but sounding nonetheless determined. George joined us; wrapping his arms around us both. 

“I’m not going to let him die”, George promised; sounding equally shaken. 

“We swear”, they said together as I melted into a Weasley sandwich. This was why. I reaffirmed my decision. This was why I had to tell them. I couldn’t give this up. I couldn’t let them go. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summer’s End

In the morning, Charlie left for Romania. While sad to see him go, it created the perfect distraction. Their attention on him, Mum and Dad didn’t notice the red rimming around our eyes or the heavy bags that had formed overnight. 

The house was slightly subdued after Charlie’s departure. It was a feeling I remembered when Bill left the nest. There would be shuffling before normalcy was re-established. Who would fill the silence with random dragon facts? Who would defend the ghoul when he was having a particularly disruptive night? Who would convince Percy to go outside after he had holed up in his room for too long? 

The change distracted Mum. Well… That and the laundry, hemming, and patching that went into getting five children ready for boarding school. It made things easier for us. Sort of. Maybe. Not really. But Fred and George could pretend. 

“This isn’t going to work”. Sitting under the kitchen table, knees drawn up to my chest to conserve space, I watched George’s progress as he crumbled little bits of cheese into line. 

“All we have is cheddar. Do you think cheddar has a strong enough smell?” Attempting to answer his own question, George held the block of cheese close to his nose for a whiff.   

“Do rats like cheese? I thought that was a mouse thing?” 

George shrugged. “At the end of the day, how different can a mouse and a rat be?” 

Having liberated an old tablecloth from the upstairs linen closet, one that had been gifted to Mum and Dad after their elopement, Fred ran down the stairs to a cacophony of, “Ginny! Get out of the way!” 

And Percy stuck his head out of his bedroom door to shout, “Stop running on the stairs! Some of us need to study!” 

“This isn’t going to work”.

Without responding, Fred shook out the tablecloth; trusting George to grab the opposite ends to spread it over the table properly. Soon, I was hidden from view; sitting in the middle of my own tablecloth tent. “Add some cheese on the table so Scabbers will see it”, Fred directed George. 

From under the table, I watched as George’s bare feet made an appearance. “What should we use for Ron’s bait?” He asked before his feet vanished, and I heard the ice box open and close. 

“I think there are some leftover biscuits in the tin”, said Fred. 

“Mum’s secret stash?” George asked. 

“Yeah. That one”. 

A chair was pulled away from the table. I sat still; hugging my knees and listening as a cupboard was opened. “What are you doing?” Mum asked as she entered the kitchen from the garden door. I didn’t need to see to know she was carrying a wicker basket filled with laundry fresh from the clothes line. 

“Uh… Getting your vase”. Came George’s quickly thought-of excuse. Since the only things Mum kept in the top cupboard were her secret stash and the old vase inherited from a dead relative, it was either the vase or telling the truth. 

I didn’t have to imagine Mum’s face to know she’d be pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes. “Why do you need my vase? Why is my tablecloth out? Fred? George?” She may have phrased it as questions, but using their names meant Mum was demanding answers. 

“We’re decorating the table”, said Fred. 

“We need your vase for a centerpiece. Thought we’d get Ginny to pick some flowers before dinner”, said George.

“Whatever for?” Mum asked, her voice dropping to a lower pitch. The suspicion in Mum’s voice was unmistakable. Seriously, the gnomes out in the vegetable garden probably picked up on it.

“Can’t we do something nice?” 

“Yeah, Mum”, George joined in; doing his best to sound insulted. “We know you miss Charlie. We’re leaving for school soon. We wanted to make you happy, but what’s the point if you think we’re up to no good?” 

“It’s like we shouldn’t even try to be nice”. 

“Alright, alright”, Mum said. Her voice still uncertain. “It’s a lovely gesture. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job… Where’s Holly?” 

At the sound of my name, I scooted two inches to the left and poked my head out from under the tablecloth. Thanks to George moving a chair, this was a lot easier than it could’ve been. “Hi, Mum”, I said; turning my head to peer up at her. 

She had to take a step back and move her laundry basket from one hip to the other to see me. “Holly?” Mum blinked down at me. But after thirteen years of this, Mum knew better than to be bewildered. “What are you doing under there?” 

“Cleaning the floor. Ginny got cheese everywhere”. 

The pure disbelief on Mum’s face was impossible to misread. We both knew if I was cleaning the floor, I would have fetched a broom like a sane underage witch. But she couldn’t call us out about whatever mischief we were concocting in her kitchen. Not after Fred and George had guilted her into an admission of faith. 

Mum took her time to give each of us one long look. Deeply unsatisfied by whatever she saw, Mum huffed and placed her basket down by the table. “Be careful with my vase”. 

Fred, George, and I were quiet as we watched Mum head up the stairs. The further and further she went, the quieter her voice became. “Ginny, go tell Ron his laundry is in the kitchen. He needs to fold them and put them away. Percy, I need your hamper. Did you add your sheets like I asked?”

“Back under the table”, Fred ordered once we were in the clear. Over by the ice box, George jumped off the chair; carefully balancing Mum’s vase in one hand and a tin in the other.

Blowing hair out of my face, I crawled backward; letting the tablecloth hide me once more. “This isn’t going to work”. 

A dish towel was thrown under the table after me. “Here. Something to catch Scabbers with”. 

“But no. Ignore everything I have to say. It’s not like I haven’t tried to be rid of the rat these last ten years. Cheese. Hiding under furniture. I’ve done it all”. 

George had to make two trips. First to deliver the tin and the vase, and another to drag the chair back to the table. Sitting down, his legs joined me under said table. I leaned against him in silent protest; clutching the dish towel in one hand and fiddling with a frayed corner. And why was I under the table? Sure, I could sit without hitting my head. But I had to be the one to toss the dish towel over Scabbers and nab the bugger?

Fred took the chair directly across from George. “What kind is it?” He asked as I heard the tin being pried open. 

“Ginger snaps”, George replied as I listened to their rustling and shuffling. “Mum must be getting desperate. If she’s hiding these in her secret stash”. 

The sound of steps on the stairs caught my attention as I stopped my fiddling and inched away from George’s legs; sandwiching myself between my seated brothers and turning in the direction I think Ron will end up. 

“Hey, Ron”, George greeted around a mouthful when the footsteps came to a standstill. “Mum put your laundry by the table”.

Always enthused by chores, Ron grunted in response; dragging his feet closer until the tips of his shoes breached the tablecloth. “What are you eating?” He asked when he was close enough. 

“Mum’s ginger snaps”, said Fred. 

“Here, take one and don’t tell her we found them”, said George. 

“Where’d she hide them this time?” Ron asked before I heard a particularly loud crunch of a biscuit. 

“In the cupboard above the sink”. 

“I bet Mum thought that, with Bill and Charlie out of the house, none of us were tall enough to check there”, said Fred. 

“Are you ready for school?” George asked after a minute. A necessary lull to pull Ron into a false sense of safety. 

“I guess”, my little brother mumbled. I imagined him sitting with slumped shoulders and an uncertain frown. “But I got Charlie’s old wand, you’re old robes, Bill’s old trunk, and now Percy’s old rat. What’s the point of sending me to school if Mum and Dad don’t think I’m good enough to have my own stuff?” 

“What’s wrong with family heirlooms?” Fred teased. 

I could hear the scowl on Ron’s face. “Hand-me-downs aren’t heirlooms”. 

“They will be if you wait long enough”, George countered. “When did Percy give you Scabbers?” As if George didn’t already know. 

“After he got Hermes. At least I’ll have a pet. Not everyone at school will have one, right?” Ron continued after, I’m assuming, he received confirming gestures from Fred and George. “Scabbers is boring, and balding in one spot. I bet no one will like him”. 

“So change him”, came Fred’s easy-going response. “There’s nothing you can do about Scabber’s age”. 

“And it’ll be a while before you can cast any spell that will fix his bald spot”. 

“But a color changing charm isn’t hard. Even though Hogwarts doesn’t teach it until fifth year, we’ve managed it loads of times. A first-year could learn it. No problem”. 

“Then you’d be the only kid in school with… say, a yellow rat”. George sounded too encouraging. Usually, that meant someone was about to end up in a compromising position. “We can teach you an incantation if you want”. 

“One of our own invention”. 

“Spells are more potent that way, you know?” 

Under the table, I shook my head. They most certainly were not. There was a reason the wizarding world relied so heavily on Latin and other archaic languages. Magical theory had multiple schools of thought on why that is, and no definite answer. 

“What is it?” Ron asked a beat later. 

“Let us see Scabbers first”, said Fred. 

“That way we can make sure it’ll work on him”, said George. 

Ron copied Mum’s suspicion from earlier perfectly. “What are you going to do to him? Percy made me promise that I’d take care of him, and you two are-” 

“Nothing”, came Fred’s offended tone. “What can we do with you standing right there?” 

“If it makes you feel better, you can be the one to cast the spell. Just to make sure we're not tricking you”. 

I imagined Ron’s face, frowning and contemplative, as he thought through their proposal. “But we’re not allowed to do magic. The trace”. 

“But you haven’t started school yet”, Fred pointed out. “The trace only matters once you start school. If you tried to do a spell, the ministry will just think it was accidental magic. They can’t get mad at an eleven-year-old who hasn’t been trained yet”. 

“Well… Alright”. From under the table, I watched Ron’s shoes shift as he moved about. There was rustling and a small disgruntled squeak as a small weight was set on top of the table. 

“Blimey! Scabbers is going bald”, said George. 

“I forgot how old Scabbers is”, chimed in Fred. “Rather amazing, really”. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Will your spell work or not?” 

“I think so”, Fred said after a moment of faux-thinking. “If we’re specific enough, you should be fine”. 

“So what do I have to do?” Asked Ron. 

“You’ll need to tap Scabbers with your wand and then hold the top over him, and say: Sunshine, Daisies, Butter Mellow, Turn this stupid, fat, rat yellow”. 

… “That’s not going to work!”

“How would you know?” Fred challenged. “You’ve never done magic. Not on purpose”. 

“But spells don’t rhyme like that. Percy said-”

“The old spells don’t rhyme. But the new ones do. The ones the modern day witches and wizards are inventing”. The amount of fake confidence in George’s voice was staggering. Keep that up and he’d one day learn how to talk a goblin out of his gold. 

“Get your wand and try it yourself if you don’t believe us”, said Fred. In my mind, Fred and George would be working together to stare Ron down. 

“Alright, fine”, Ron spat. The tips of his shoes disappeared from my sight as he stepped away from the table. I listened as he started running up the stairs. 

“We'd better put the tin back in case Mum comes inside”, said George. Their chairs scraped against the wood floor as they moved. Objects were shuffled. Their conversation was light. Remaining in my hiding place, I shook my head. This wasn’t going to work.

The next step in this grand scheme of theirs was for Scabbers to climb down using the tablecloth while Ron was distracted, and Fred and George were pretending to be unaware. There was cheese to motivate Scabbers to make the descent and scurry under the table. And the threat of an eleven-year-old performing magic on him was also an incentive. Except Fred and George forgot something rather important. Even as a rat, Wormtail was a Hogwarts graduate. He’d know the spell Fred and George gave Ron was absolute rubbish.  

As such, Fred and George eventually grew impatient as this needed to be done before Ron returned with his wand or another family member entered the kitchen. “See the cheese, Scabbers?” Ask Fred, using the universal high-pitched tone people reserved for pets and small children. “Does it taste good?” 

“Oh, look. There’s more on the floor. How did that happen?” Pressing my lips together, I did my best not to audibly mock them. Having a preference for slapstick and jump scares, deception was not my fellow triplets' strong suit. 

Not wanting Scabbers to panic before it was too late, Fred and George couldn’t converse in any helpful way. So… were they communicating through stares again? What should we do?  We're running out of time. Maybe we should’ve listened to Holly. Those would all be useful thoughts by this point.

I heard a dull thump. Followed by the sounds of scurrying. Specifically, the sound of nails against glass. “What do we do now?” asked Fred. 

“Maybe we can wrap the vase in the tablecloth?” Suggested George. 

Sighing, I wiggled until I could lie on my back and poke my head out from under the table; leaving the dish towel abandoned by my side. “And then what?” I asked; staring up at Fred and George as their fingers twitched and their expressions grew puzzled. 

This was why their plan was doomed to fail. After trapping Scabbers in Mum’s vase (which hadn’t been intended, by the way), we only had two options moving forward. We could lock Scabbers up and hide him away until he was forced to transform back or starve. Or we could… I don’t know. Take him to the pond and drown him. Either way, our actions would come into question, and possibly expose… everything. But the latter would turn us into murderers and condemn an innocent man for life. 

Which was the whole dilemma I had tried to get them to understand last night! I mean, I think I know what I’m talking about. I’ve only spent the last ten years tormenting myself because of Scabbers’ existence. 

“Um… What if we cut off Scabbers’ front paws?” George asked; glancing down at me and blinking. Maybe he was recalling the details surrounding You-Know-Who’s revival. “I think I know a spell that would cauterize the wounds”. His idea would be a lot more convincing if it weren’t for George’s wide-eyed stare and slightly whitening complexion. 

It also didn’t help that this was said in front of Scabbers. Letting out the loudest squeak of today, the sound of nails against glass picked up with fury. “He’s moving the vase!” 

“Grab him, Fred!” 

But Scabbers had been too close to the table’s edge to begin with. I had just enough time to cover my head and curl into a ball before the vase shattered onto the floor. Most bits of glass didn’t make it under the table. But a few pieces ended up landing by my feet. 

“Where is he?” George said as his feet turned in every direction; searching. 

Footsteps started pounding down the stairs as I slowly uncurled. “What happened?” I heard Ron ask as he re-entered the kitchen. 

A tiny, whiskered, long face was inches away from mine. Scabber’s little nose twitched. His little body shook as the two of us stared at each other under the table. My skin crawled at the proximity as my mind scrambled to react. By the looks of it, Scabbers was undergoing a similar process. 

The dish towel!

Contorting my body, I leaned for where I had dropped it. But as soon as I moved, so did Scabbers. He was scurrying out from under the table before I got a good grasp; heading straight for safe harbor. 

“Scabbers!” Ron cried as his new pet collided against his right shoe. From under the table, I watched Ron squat to pick him up. He used both his hands to create a cup around Scabbers’ body. “Look at him! He’s terrified”. 

Naturally, this is when Mum had to come downstairs; toting Percy’s hamper along with her. “What was all that noise?” She asked; coming to a stop. “My vase!” 

“Sorry, Mum”, Fred was quick to say. “We… must have pulled the tablecloth too quickly. And you’re vase fell”. 

Percy’s hamper was dropped to the floor; allowing Mum to withdraw her wand from her apron pocket. “Repairo”. Her wand swished through the air as little shards of glass started flying together. Solidifying as if they had never been apart. “This was why I asked you to be careful”. 

“Sorry, Mum”, Fred and George said in sync. 

“And Ron, you still haven’t put your clothes away. What are you doing with your wand? You know that’s not a toy”. 

… I sat under the table for nothing. It was a thought that repeated often as I waited for Mum and Ron, or at least Ron, to disperse so I could crawl out.  

There wasn’t another chance to have a go at Scabbers. And that was mostly our fault. Sure, Scabbers hardly left Ron’s room during the last few days of summer. But he had heard us. That comment about chopping off his paws. Despite being a rat, Scabbers didn’t have the intelligence of one. 

The last ten years had taught Scabbers to stay away from me. I threw enough tantrums about him that the whole house knew my feelings about this particular rat. My brothers thought I was just being a girl. Mum believed I was afraid of being bitten. Dad said it was just an overactive imagination or maybe one of my nightmares. Since I once claimed that Scabbers was a monster in disguise.  

But now, Scabbers had the self-preservation to mark Fred and George a dangerous. Cut off his front paws? Why would the evil Weasley triplets want with his poor little paws? As potion ingredients for their experiments, perhaps? 

Or at least, that’s what we hoped Scabbers assumed by our plan. After all, we were three when Sirius Black was framed. And only four people knew Wormtail was an animagus… presumably. Did You-Know-Who know about Wormtail’s rat persona? That had never been clear to me. But I digress. Why would three thirteen-year-olds suspect a family pet of secretly being a murderous wizard? 

Feeling tired, my thoughts leading nowhere, I followed Mum through King’s Cross Station. Dodging muggles and managing six kids, four trolleys, five trunks, and one caged owl made it a trying affair for her. “Every year. Packed with muggles, of course”. Mum complained rather loudly; leading the way to platforms nine and ten. 

Despite our best efforts, Fred, George, and I did not come up with another plan for taking care of Scabbers. Most likely, anything we’d tried would be harder now. Since Scabbers would have his guard up. Thank Merlin, we had the Marauder’s Map. Otherwise, Scabbers could use the return to school to disappear somewhere in the castle, and we’d never see him again. 

Ginny walked beside Mum; pouting as Mum kept a firm grip on her hand. Ginny had been making that same face all morning. No matter what she said or how hard she begged, Mum refused to let Ginny go to Hogwarts. None of our platitudes helped either. “It’s just one more year”. Or “You’ll get the whole house to yourself. That will be fun”. Statements like those only seemed to make Ginny more upset. 

Percy walked behind Mum and Ginny. He was the most excited for the new term. There was purpose behind Percy’s steps as he pushed his trolley with Hermes proudly on display, and his prefect badge gleaming from where it was pinned over his muggle street clothes. 

Fred, George, and I followed shoulder-to-shoulder. Between the three of us, we had two trolleys. Fred pushed his trunk and mine; one stacked on top of the other. While George managed his own with all our carry-bags resting on top. “We’ll figure something out”, Fred mumbled at us; his lips barely moving as we drew closer and closer to the hidden platform.  

There hadn’t been enough trolleys when we arrived. Meaning we triplets got lumped together again. Not that I minded. Mum may express concern every time Fred and George handle things for me. But let the boys do the heavy lifting. Being hands-free made it easier to scan the crowds for one scrawny, shaggy, black-haired youth. 

“Platform nine and three-quarters this way”, Mum said; urging us forward. We always seemed to move a little too slow for her. 

I spotted a confused-looking boy standing in the distance wearing clothes a couple sizes too large. With him was a trolley, carrying a brand-new trunk and a snowy owl. With my elbows, I nudged Fred and George. Adding a subtle tilt of my head, I pointed them in the right direction. 

We had to be careful. It wouldn’t do for Ron to notice our interest. Though he hadn’t been the most observant person this morning. He looked too pale for my liking. Though that was probably our fault. Over breakfast, Fred and George told Ron he’d have to face a troll at the sorting ceremony. And I didn’t correct them. But it's fine. He’ll be fine. It’s just a little hazing between siblings. Completely harmless.   

Once at platform nine and ten, Mum stepped to the side; taking Ginny with her. “Percy, you first”. Mum ordered. She sounded a tad less frizzled now that we were almost at our destination. 

Percy didn’t hesitate; approaching the barrier at a run, he disappeared in the blink of an eye. Mum nodded her approval. “Fred, you next”, she said with a wave of her free hand. 

“He’s not Fred”, George exclaimed. 

“I’m George”, Fred chimed in a beat later. Both tried to sound offended. “Honestly, woman. And you call yourself our mother”. 

Mum hated getting Fred and George confused. As if it called into question her ability to parent. Usually, a mix-up resulted in a round of hugs and biscuits baked specifically for them. But today, Mum was more concerned about getting us on the train than she was about hurt feelings. “Sorry, George dear”. Mum placated as George-who-is-Fred lined up the trolley to make for the barrier. 

Once he was all set, Fred looked up at Mum. “Only joking, I am Fred”. And he took off before Mum could say anything. George quickly followed suit; running without being prompted. 

Mum stamped her foot but otherwise waved off their little jest. They’ve been playing that joke since realizing they were identical. “Holly”. Mum turned to me. “Off you pop”. 

I took the barrier at a slower pace than the others. If memory served, this was when Harry should be approaching Mum for help. And just before I passed through, I heard a new voice call out, “Er…excuse me”. 

Standing on the platform, the scarlet engine already blowing steam, Percy fell prey to Mum’s attentions first. “Oh”, she hugged him tight; ignoring his squirming and warnings about being in a public space. Mum only let him go when his complexion reached a truly embarrassed color. Percy scampered off with one last hug for Ginny; hiding his face as he ducked onto the train. 

Mum turned to me next; pulling me out from under Fred’s arm for my hug. Followed by George and ending with Fred. “Now, you three”, she said as Ginny and Ron acted as spectators. She spoke sternly; keeping one hand on her hip as she used the other to point at each of us in turn. “Behave this year. I don’t want a single owl telling me you’ve blown up a toilet or-”

I cut her off. “Blown up a toilet? That’s disgusting. We’ve never blown up a toilet”. 

Before Mum could look even a little relieved, Fred took charge. “Great idea though. Thanks, Mum”. Fred grinned widely at the weasley matriarch. In denial, I shook my head. We are not blowing up a toilet. 

“Yeah”, George chimed in. “Hey Ginny, do you want us to send you a Hogwarts toilet seat?” George asked; making it sound like the world’s greatest Christmas gift. But I refuse. I absolutely refuse. We will not be blowing up a germy, disgusting toilet. 

Ginny giggled at their antics. It was a substantial improvement from the pouting face she had been sporting all morning. “It isn’t funny!” Mum reprimanded before choosing to just ignore us. She pulled Ron into her arms; making the boy blush as bad as Percy. “You’ll look after Ron”, she said; giving us another direction. 

Fred and George smirked at each other. “Don’t worry. Ickle Ronniekins will be fine with us”, Fred said in a baby voice. Ron turned a darker shade of red.

“Shut up”, he complained. 

“On you go”, Mum said once the train whistle blew. She placed one last kiss on top of Ron’s forehead before we boarded the train. The carriage door magically shut behind us and locked. Making it safe to stand there as the train pulled out of the station; waving to Mum and Ginny. The younger chased after the train. She didn’t stop until she ran out of platform. We didn’t stop waving until Mum and Ginny were too far away to see. And another year at Hogwarts had officially started. 

“Well”, George said as he pulled Fred and me away from the closed door. “We’re going to find Lee”, he told Ron. 

“In his last letter, he said he had something to show Holly”, Fred said, eyes flashing with mirth. Oh, that didn’t sound good. Maybe I could hide with Angelina and Alicia. 

As if reading my mind, Fred and George grabbed my hands; preventing any half-baked escape. “So, we need to find someplace for you to go”, they told our younger brother. Typically, finding a compartment on your own was another important milestone for first-years. An anxious experience we’d never want ot rob Ron of. However… we had plans. 

Ron gulped. “Can’t I sit with you lot?” 

“Sorry, Ron”, I said. 

“But you have to be at least this tall”, Fred waved his free hand horizontally over the top of my head. “To ride with us”. Fred led the way; tugging on my hand to get me to follow. 

We made a show of pressing our faces against compartment windows as Ron trailed behind us; rubbing his palms on his trousers to keep the nervous sweat at bay. “Only fourth-year Slytherins here", George reported. “That won’t do for little Ronniekins”. 

“Shut up”, Ron complained. 

“This one has a group of second-year girls”, said Fred; waving at the compartment as we passed by. “Way out of Ron’s league”. 

We had to change cars. “There’s a boy about your age sitting by himself”, I said; being the lucky one to spot little Harry on his lonesome. “Why don’t you go ask if you can sit with him?” 

Ron stared at me with his mouth open. I understood the hesitation. In a family of ten, there was always someone to play with. Introductions were never required. And as a general consequence of the statute of secrecy, wizarding children only met others if their parents facilitated. Ron never had to approach a new face before today. 

But Fred and George didn’t give him enough time to refuse. Reaching around me, Fred slammed open the compartment door; startling Ron and the boy inside. 

Harry had the compartment window open, where he would’ve heard all the heartfelt goodbyes between parents and offspring before the train left the station. This boy really likes to torture himself, doesn’t he? 

At our abrupt entrance, Harry jumped. The action nearly sent his glasses flying from his face. “Hello”, George greeted; stepping forward with his hand stretched out. “I’m George”. He grabbed Harry’s right hand from where it rested on the seat. Harry’s mouth was hanging open just as Ron had done. 

“I’m Fred”. Fred copied George. Except he grabbed Harry’s left hand. An act that forced Harry to cross his arms at his elbows. Fred and George rigorously shook his hands; causing Harry’s bangs to bounce and his glasses to go further askew. Poor Harry was too polite to tell these gits to quit it.  

At my elbow, Ron tried to tuck himself behind me as the tips of his ears turned a brilliant pink. “And this is Holly”, George nodded over his shoulder in my direction. Finally, they decided to end their handshake. Giving a little half-wave, I moved my body so Ron had no chance of hiding. 

“We’re triplets”, Fred and George said at the same time. As if it wasn’t already obvious. Seriously. Between our shared age, Fred and George’s identical features, and just our general red-headness, most people had no trouble recognizing us as multiples. 

With his hands freed, Harry straightened his glasses. He seemed almost bewildered by the onslaught that was Fred and George. But with time, he’ll get used to it. “Er… Hi”.

“And this is our little brother, Ron”, I said; placing a hand on Ron’s shoulder and shoving him closer to Fred and George. In response, my dear little brother shot me a vicious look. “This will be his first year at Hogwarts. Just like you”. 

“Can he sit with you?” George asked; offering Mr. Potter an encouraging smile. “Our mum asked us to look after him, but-” Ron looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. 

“He can’t sit with us”, Fred continued; giving Harry whiplash as he tried to guess who’d speak next. “There’s just some conversations one can’t have in front our their baby brother. It would be unsightly, really. Far too mature for little ears”. 

“A bit worrisome”. 

“Something Mum would be unhappy about". 

Ron had had enough. “What mature conversations?” He challenged; fixing Fred and George with an annoyed stare and flaring nostrils. I was only spared because I was behind him. “You’re going to find Lee and talk about… I don’t know… putting dung in someone’s shoes”. Fred and George beamed. Aw, our little brother did listen to our heroic pranking tales. 

“Um…” Harry broke in, pulling our attention to him. He briefly glanced at us before turning his eyes to the compartment carpet. And then repeated the process. “You can join me… If you want”. Holding out a hand to Ron, Harry resembled a pound puppy waiting for rejection. “I’m Harry Potter”. 

“Blimey”, said George. 

“He really is”, Fred finished as both peered inquisitively at Harry’s forehead; acting as if they hadn’t known it from the start. This way we could hide Ron’s initial response. Which was to stare wide-eyed and amazed. 

But Ron only needed a moment, and when he was done, he didn’t disappoint. Taking one step forward, Ron grabbed Harry’s hand and gave it a shake. It was firm enough that Harry didn’t have to guess at his intentions. “Thanks”, Ron said; displaying the empathy he inherited from Dad. “It’s better than sitting with these three”. Glancing over his shoulder, Ron narrowed his eyes; payback on his lips. “They’re annoying”. 

“Well, if you need anything, Mr. Potter, come find us. We know the school better than anyone”. Fred said; starting to back out of the compartment. 

“And we’d be happy to help”, George started where Fred left off. “Since you’ll be looking after Ron for us. We won’t even charge you for it”. Once all of us were out of the compartment, we gave Ron a cheeky little wave, and I softly closed the compartment door. 

A look passed between us as we took a collective deep breath. That was… simple. Fred clapped his hands once. “Let’s find Lee. He sounded so excited to share his surprise with Holly”. 

My stomach dropped as George gripped both my shoulders to push me forward. “It was all he wanted to talk about in his last letter”. 

Maybe if I couldn’t find Angelina and Alicia, Percy would let me hide behind him in the prefects’ car. If I managed a few tears, he’d probably cave. Unfortunately, sitting three compartments down, the first friend we spotted was Lee. 

“Lee”, Fred greeted after sliding open the compartment door and letting himself in without preamble. 

“Weasley, Weasley, and Weasley”, Lee said to each of us in turn as we filed in. He sat by the window with a suspicious brown cardboard box in his lap. Lee was too calm. Too composed. At our start-of-term reunion, he usually bounced around like a terrier puppy. “You’ll never guess what I found this summer”.      

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

The Student Body

Lee Jordan brought a giant, hairy tarantula to school. A fact that had me scowling at his back as we exited the train and made our way over to the school carriages. As if any creature with that many legs could make a good pet. What was his mother thinking? 

I endeavored to keep a five-foot radius between me and Lee. Despite Fred and George walking alongside their friend. Every few steps, they glanced over their shoulders and snickered. I may not have Ron’s phobia of spiders. But that doesn’t mean it’s not upsetting when a tarantula jumps at your face. Only three people would find that funny, and I’m looking at them right now!

Lee took things a step further; choosing to wink whenever we made eye contact. Like he was suggesting there was something untold between us. If he kept this up, there’d be a hair-dyeing potion in his future. 

As Fred and George climbed inside an empty carriage. Handing his box to George, Lee was ready to follow suit. But not before holding the carriage door wide open and stepping to the side with a flourish. “My lady”, he said with an exaggerated bow; waggling his eyebrows in my direction.

It made the bottoms of my feet itch. As if my body was trying to tell me to run. Shaking my head, I tried to clear it of negative thoughts. This was silly. Fred and George were in that carriage. I couldn’t… Lee was harmless. I knew that. A bit of a pest, sure. But we usually got on. He was someone to muck about with. Especially when Fred and George were occupied by one of their bits. But that stupid hairy tarantula. Letting it jump out at me was going too far!

“Shame”, a new voice said as a figure appeared at my side. Glancing up, the clean-cut face of Pucey awaited me. “It seems that carriage is full”. 

The confidence visibly slipped off Lee’s face as he straightened out of his bow. Fred and George peered out from inside the carriage. The intensity of their stares made their message very clear: get in here! And normally, I would have… if it wasn’t for eight-legged passengers.  

“I wanted to discuss the summer potions assignment with you”, Pucey stated; holding his hands behind his back. For a brief moment, we stood still; waiting for the other to do something. When nothing happened, Pucey continued on his way. 

As I watched him go, George called out, sounding concerned, “Jolly Holly?” Concern for whom, I wondered. 

“Pucey, wait! I want to discuss potions too”. Hurrying after him, I turned my back to Fred, George, and their over-eager friend. It hurt… but only a little. 

Pausing, Pucey threw a conquering smirk in the direction of my brothers. Which I chose to ignore. In a proper manner, he offered his arm; intending to lead the way to the next available carriage. But I declined. No sense in feeding the rumor mill before we were forced to. 

We fell into step. Though the sight of two sinisterly thin, black leathery thestals pulling the carriage had me hesitating. Despite encountering them during last year’s carriage rides, it’s hard not to be taken aback by the gentle beasts’ ghastly appearance. 

Pucey noticed and stilled. “Ah, you can see them”, he said; snapping me out of my daze. 

“Yes”. I coughed into my hand to clear the awkwardness from our conversation. Walking once more, Pucey obliged my pace. “Can you?” 

“No”, he said lightly, opening the door. Just like Lee, Pucey held it open for me to enter first. Unlike Lee, there was no silly little bow or stupid wiggling eyebrows. “But I know they are there”. Pucey held out his hand to help me climb into the carriage. Like something from the Regency Era. 

Since no brothers were here to see and judge me, I accepted Pucey’s hand. It’s cold. Understandable. Considering that we’re in Scotland, surrounded by the night air. It was also calloused and solid. Pucey’s fingers bent around mine, and he placed his thumb across my knuckles. A tingle shot up my arm, and I cursed Holly’s hormones. Dealing with pubescent boys was one thing. But being a pubescent girl was something that might actually do me in. 

With Pucey helping me balance, I stepped into the carriage and sat on the bench that faced the thestrals. Pucey swiftly claimed the spot next to me; closing the carriage door with a smart snap after making sure no robes would get caught. 

Subconsciously, I rubbed my hands on my skirt; drying them of any potential sweat. “I’m curious”, Pucey said once the carriage started to move. “If you can see the thestrals, whose death have you witnessed?” 

Mine. 

That was the honest awesome. From last gurgling breaths to razor-sharp pain that lessened as sight, sound, and smell started to fade. I remembered dying; being fully conscious until it was over. Many nights, I got to relive it in my nightmares. “I'd rather not talk about it”. 

Like a gentleman, Pucey didn’t press. 

“You wanted to discuss the potions assignment. Anything specific?” I asked upon mustering the courage. Looking at Pucey, I found him staring out of the window; watching the trees pass by as if this was a part of his everyday commute. 

He hummed at me. “There’s nothing to discuss. I just wanted to see the looks on your brothers’ faces when I walked off with their sister”. The smugness in his voice was hard to ignore. Prick. At least he’s an honest one. “I haven’t forgotten about the sticking charm they applied to my ladle last year”. 

It took effort to smother the laugh building in the back of my throat. “Sorry. It was intended for me”. 

“Sure”, Pucey allowed; flicking his eyes in my direction before returning to the passing scenery. It almost sounded like he didn’t believe me. Smart boy. 

Cheerful chatter of friends catching up rang in my ears as Pucey and I separated at the doors leading to The Great Hall. “See you in class”, Pucey said; going as far as to offer a small formal bow. The heels of his leather shoes clicked together before he turned; heading for Slytherin table with an ease that usually wasn’t seen in anyone below fifth year. 

Breathing through my mouth, I took a moment. Taking in the thousands of floating candles above the tables. Their soft glow illuminating the polished wood and golden dishware. The Great Hall was as splendid as ever. From the combined warmth of the fireplaces and the body heat from all the students occupying the tables, to a heavily enchanted ceiling; displaying twinkling stars, a bright moon, and a stray cloud or two. 

Welcome. I thought as I started for Gryffindor table. To another year at Hogwarts. 

Fred and George saw me before I saw them. One minute, I was walking down the length of the table. Exchanging greetings with familiar faces and on the lookout for red hair. The next, my wrists were grabbed, and I was dragged into an open spot near the middle of the table. 

“Flirting with Pucey wasn’t part of the plan, sister dear”, George hissed into my ear as I swung my legs over the bench to sit properly. 

Fred and George managed to sandwich me in between them.  At home, George and I sat next to each other with Fred directly across. But at school, it was always this way. George on my left, and Fred on my right. At meals. During classes. Sometimes in the common room too. 

Nostrils flaring, there was no hiding the ire in my voice. “Neither was letting a spider attack my face, brother mine”. 

On the other side of the table sat Lee. One hand wrapped around the stem of his water goblet, Lee smiled and winked when I made eye contact. Oh, good. No hard feelings then. “You mean you didn’t like Mr. Spider’s hug?” Lee teased; sounding absolutely shocked. 

I gave Lee my best unimpressed look. It’s the type of look only a big sister has. “Mr. Spider? That’s what you named it?” 

“You should’ve seen your face, Holly. It was worse than Filch’s that time we charmed the suits of armor to chase him”, Fred chimed in; chuckling. But his eyes weren’t laughing.  

“So was yours when I took a different carriage. What did you do with the tarantula, anyway?” I asked; turning my attention to Lee.

Lee visibly deflated. “McGonagall took him. Said he was too distracting to bring to school. She’s sending him back to my mum in the morning”. Lee looked at all of us individually; pleading his case. “If people would just spend some time with him, they would see that Mr. Spider is very friendly”. 

“There you are!” Alicia inserted herself. Both into the conversation and climbed onto the bench next to Lee. “We looked for you on the train”. 

Angelina followed; sitting down with more care than her fellow chaser. “We sat after the train was moving”, I explained; returning the smile Angelina offered in greeting. “Had to help Ron find a compartment”. 

“That’s right. Your little brother is starting this year”, Alicia recalled. The conversation felt less like a battle of wills with Alicia and Angelina unknowingly acting as a buffer. Amongst the Gryffindor third years, there were five girls. But as far as Fred and George were concerned, there were only four. As a sister didn’t count. Better yet, they had to share a quidditch pitch with Alicia and Angelina. Meaning their pride wouldn’t allow them to admit their dislike of me talking to a boy.

“Then Lee let his pet tarantula attempt to maul my face”. 

“No!” Alicia had the best expressions. First, her eyes grew in shock. Then she leaned forward, lips turned down as she stared at Fred and George. One after the other. “And you allowed that?” 

George shrugged as Fred coughed and looked away. “It was funny”, claimed George. 

Angelina made a noise in the back of her throat; side-eyeing Lee with mistrust. “Alicia and I had to save poor Katie from Wood. It took up the whole journey”. 

Copying Alicia, I leaned in until the edge of the table pressed against my diaphragm, and strands of my hair brushed the golden plate set in front of me. “So, you’re saying we deserve two servings of tonight’s dessert”. 

Smacking her palm on the table beside her place setting, Alicia tipped her head back and extended her arm. “Merlin, whatever it is, I hope there’s chocolate”. 

As Alicia finished her sentence, the light from the floating candlesticks dimmed further. Like a darkening movie theater, it signaled the impending start of tonight’s sorting. The chatter died out as a nostalgic hush overtook the hall. Everyone remembered what it was like to walk through those double doors for the first time and find a sea of faces staring at you. 

In the front of the hall, on the raised dias, the teachers directed their attention to the doors. Dumbledore, in his throne-like chair, smiled as the doors started to creak open. Light spilled in from the chamber that separated the Great Hall from the Entrance Hall as McGonagall led the way. Dressed in black robes, there were some parts in her procession that left McGonagall looking like a bodiless head wearing a pointed hat. 

As was her habit, McGonagall’s wizened face was the picture of sternness. A sharp contrast to the wonderstruck, open-mouthed first-years trailing behind her like ducklings. 

Ron was easy to spot. Even in the dim lighting, the Weasley red was distinguishable. Both a hindrance and a benefit based on the situation. His head turned in all directions: glancing up at the enchanting ceiling, frowning at the girl in front of him, and scanning the tables as he walked past.   

“He looks a little like Charlie”, Alicia observed. She sat with one knee bent and resting against the bench so she didn’t have to twist around uncomfortably to watch. 

Fred snorted. “Only when Charlie wakes up with a bad case of bed head”. 

“Or when Ron gets sunburnt”, I added as Ron walked by. Our heads turned to track his progress; giving me the chance to recognize the shorter boy walking beside him. The unruliness of Harry’s black hair was difficult to see in the ambient lighting. But I could still tell who he was. Good. It meant Ron’s social skills weren’t a complete disaster. 

“Is Ron your youngest sibling?” Angelina asked as I grew distracted; trying to match names to faces I’ve never seen before. 

“No”, said George. “We got one more at home. She’ll be here next year”. 

Now on the raised dias, the first-years stopped just before the step up, McGonagall made quick work of placing a wooden tool in front of the headmaster’s podium. It was perfectly centered to overlook the four long tables. The legendary sorting hat soon followed, and those of us sitting settled in for another September 1st tradition. 

“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see, 

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me. 

You can keep your bowlers black, 

Your top hats- sleek and tall, 

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all”

Leaning into Fred’s personal space, I muttered, “Do you think it’s developing a complex in its old age? The sorting hasn’t been in style for at least half a century.”

Quickly, Fred had to press his lips together as his cheeks puffed out and he swallowed a laugh. “Shush”, Angelina warned before George or Lee could join in, and we attracted the wrath of any supervising adult. Or worse, Percy. 

“So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be. 

You might belong in Gryffindor

And Blah, blah. The hat went on to describe the positive house of every house. This part was the same every year. Or carried the same message. Made me wonder would it would be like if the sorting hat described our shortcomings instead. Gryffindor was too brash. Ravenclaws were trapped inside their heads, Hufflepuffs lacked nuance, and Slytherins were greedy. It might force some self-reflection. It was easier to listen when the hat reached the last stanza.    

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a thinking Cap!”

As was tradition, no matter which year you found yourself in, the great hall roared with cheers and applause. Never mind that I had been mocking it just moments before. Fred and George stamped their feet under the table. Hufflepuff seemed to be trying their best to be louder than Ravenclaw. Only the teachers and staff maintained their composure as the first-years went back and forth from glancing around, unsure, and half-heartedly clapping. 

However, like a trained dog with a treat being held about its head, the hall immediately ceased all noise when McGonagall drew closer to the stool; unfurling a long scroll of parchment as her presence naturally commanded the room. “When you hear your name, sit on the stool. I will place the hat on your head for your sorting”. There was no further production as the first name was quickly called, “Abbott, Hannah”. 

There were only forty names to get through. Doable. As far as ceremonies go. But most of us only half-listened as we started to feel the emptiness of our stomachs. The new names went in one ear and were quickly forgotten before they reached the other. Typically, they weren’t worth remembering until we knew if we’d be sharing a common room.  

That didn’t stop us from fulfilling our role. It didn’t matter which first-year was under the hat. As soon as a house name was called out, the corresponding table reacted. Clapping and hollering as the first-year was drawn in like a fire-dwelling salamander to a flame. However, some names carried too much weight for indifference. 

“Potter, Harry!” 

Whispers covered the hall like a heavy blanket as Harry separated from Ron. Being towards the end of the alphabet, there were fewer students for him to push through to reach the raised dias. Limbs jerky, he quickly fixed his glasses that were threatening to slip off his nose; focusing on the stool and refusing to look elsewhere. 

At the teacher’s table, Dumbledore leaned forward ever so slightly. The action was barely noticeable as whispered words echoed into our ears. “Potter?”

“It couldn’t be”. 

“ That Harry Potter?”

The disruption wasn’t any louder than typical whispers one might hear during class. But with the tall ceilings of the Great Hall paired with the whole school taking part, it felt more invasive than it ought to. Can’t imagine what it felt like. Having to face the whole school as they recognized your name after being a wallflower all through primary school. 

During Fred’s, George’s, and my sorting, we were the last to try on the hat. At that point, people wanted things to wrap up so they could eat. The only interest we sparked was the novelty that there were three of the Weasleys all in the same year. I remembered the sympathetic smile Professor Sprout shot McGonagall as I hurried to join my brothers at Gryffindor table. 

Luckily, Harry didn’t have to sit on the stool and stare at the crowd of overly curious faces for too long. McGongall placed the sorting hat on his head without delay or fanfare. And soon, the Great Hall was blocked from Harry’s sight as the sorting hat covered his eyes. Glasses and all.

It was over soon. Barely enough time to tuck some hair behind my ear before the hat bellowed, “GRYFFINDOR!” 

Gryffindor house erupted. Several of the older students leapt to their feet. Especially those sitting in the back. It was louder than we had been for anyone else. “We got Potter”, Fred and George chanted as Percy stood to shake Harry’s hand and gestured to the open space across from him. Bragging rights. I thought, clapping politely. Having a celebrity sorted into our house would keep Gryffindor house in high spirits for at least two weeks. Maybe less. Depending on how long it took for Mr. Potter to lose us house points. 

A sharp, unimpressed look from McGonagall had our table quieting before she called out the next name. She shook her head at us, chin tilted up so we could see her face without the brim of her hat getting in the way. If Gryffindor had carried on for a minute longer, our first night in the common room probably would have included a lecture about expectations. “Thomas, Dean!”

Four first-years remained. Three boys and one girl. And when Dean approached the McGonagall and the stool, there were only three. Ron gulped nervously as his eyes scanned Gryffindor table. I gave him a smile when our eyes briefly met. Cheer up, Ron. Is what I would’ve told him. You have to wear a hat, not fight a troll like we led you to believe. Such a lowered expectation should be enough to settle your nerves. 

When it was Ron’s turn, he was second to last. And he got to walk up to the stool without the whispers and excitement of complete strangers. Still, there was no denying the slightly green tinge to Ron’s face as he clambered onto the stool. 

“Ron looks like he’s going to vomit”, George observed, breath hitched in a low snicker. 

“He’d have to”, Fred whispered back, his eyes never leaving our little brother. “That’d be the only way his sorting could stand out more than Harry’s”. 

From the other side of the table, Angelina shot us a look as McGonagall placed the hat on top of Ron’s head. However, it barely covered Ron’s eyes before the hat was yelling, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The utter relief on Ron’s face was palpable as the sounds of cheering accompanied Ron to the table. I made sure to clap as hard for Ron as I did for Harry. Fred and George whooped and hollered. Something they hadn’t done for any of the other first-years. Percy made a point of standing up a second time; offering Ron his congratulations as soon as he was in earshot. However, unlike with Harry, Percy didn’t shake Ron’s hand. Nor did he recommend a place to sit. Instead, he pointed to the seat he wished Ron to take. One that would place Ron within reach. 

Ron didn’t seem to mind. I doubt he even noticed that Percy was telling him to do anything. Beaming at Harry as he were, stationed right next to him. Laughing inwardly to myself, the sorting of Blaise Zabini was easily ignored as I watched Ron settle in. Percy had done the same thing for Ron that Charlie had done for Fred. Then, like magnets, George and I were also pulled to his side. It was nice. Not having to brave introductions all on your own. 

With Zabini walking stoically toward Slytherin table, and McGonagall removing the stool and hat from sight, Dumbledore stood. The Hall instinctively fell silent as the first-years copied their elders and turned their heads to watch Dumbledore approach his podium. The bronze owl attached unfurled its wings as Dumbledore took his place. There was no rush in his movements as he took his time to offer each table a welcoming stare. As if each of us were a grandchild he hadn’t seen in years. 

“And another year at Hogwarts has begun”, Dumbledore started his speech. Some of the first-years shifted in their seats as their bellies growled. But the rest of us weren’t concerned. Dumbledore was never long-winded. And words were rarely wasted. “I only have one thing to say before we tuck into our feast. And they are: nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak!”

As if those were the magic words, food appeared; filling salver, platter, tureen, and bowl in sight before Dumbledore returned to his chair. The hall gave a quick cheer, but it soon died out as the sounds of cutlery and conversation took over. 

There were four different options for meat. George placed roast chicken on my plate without me having to ask. I grabbed the carrots before they could be passed down the table. Fred made sure we each had enough potatoes before giving the serving spoon to Lee. Despite whatever irritation the three of us may be enduring, it felt… impossible not to work in tandem like this. Smug Slytherins and hairy tarantulas aside, I didn’t have to worry. The three of us were rubbish at holding grudges. At least between each other.       

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Something We Didn't Consider

The defense teacher wasn’t the only thing different this year. During our first and second years, the defense against the dark arts classroom was located on the third floor on the south-hand side. We liked that classroom. It was spacey, the natural light was good, and the overhead dragon skeleton was fun to look at. 

On the first day of classes, however; we left breakfast and had to find our way to a new classroom. One that shared the transfiguration courtyard with McGonagall’s room. “Ugh!” I complained the moment George opened the classroom door. The scent of garlic wafted out as if it were begging for escape. My eyes watered upon contact. Contrary to popular belief, there was such a thing as too much garlic. Professor Quirrell just proved it. 

Wearing an expression that matched mine, George led the charge; entering the classroom with me right behind him. Sort of like jumping into water before testing it. Fred and Lee had the good sense to steel themselves before following. 

“Maybe this is the reason the third-floor corridor is out of bounds”, Lee said as we claimed a row of seats in the back. “Maybe they closed it because they didn’t want Quirrell to stink up the real defense classroom. To keep the smell contained instead of polluting the whole castle”. 

Bookbags fell off shoulders as we dropped them to the floor or let them land on top of the long desk. We weren’t the first ones to enter. Already, the two boys who roomed with Lee and my fellow triplets, who will be forever nameless, were occupying the front row. On the opposite side, Slytherins strategically picked their seats and ignored anyone with a red tie. They were still waking up. By lunch, our Slytherin classmates would be ready to share with us the new jeers and snide remarks they perfected over the summer holidays. 

“Think Quirrell would crack a window if we asked?” Wondered Fred as we pulled out parchment, quills, and ink. 

Rolling my head, I looked at him and wrinkled my nose. Imagine asking You-Know-Who to open a window because we found his body odor to be repulsive. What would his response be? How close would we have to get to ask? How does a two-faced man shower, anyway? Based on how Quirrell turned his head or scrubbed, someone would be getting facefuls of suds and water. 

Reading my face, the corners of Fred’s lips pulled up. “I see your point”.  

Angelina and Alicia walked in giggling with the sleeves of their robes pressed against their noses. Adrian entered seconds after, straight backed and looking like the morning had agreed with him. Our eyes briefly met. I risked a small smile, but there was no further acknowedlegemnt. Any such action would be dissected, analyzed, and/or mocked by friends, brothers, and classmates with too much time on their hands.  

“W-welcome”, Quirrell started; bringing the class to order. The stuttering… I’d forgotten. Though it made sense. I’d be fumbling my words too if a psychopath lived under my turban. “This y-year we will be f-f-focusing on d-dangerous beasts and how to-to protect ourselves”. At the end of his sentence, Quirrell smiled. As if speaking was a big accomplishment. “An e-exicting year. Boys and girls”.

Quirrell turned to write on the blackboard; showing us his back. “W- we’ll discuss the curriculum and my expec-expectations today. And s-start learning during the next cl-class”. 

Dating the corner of my parchment, I tried to keep my thoughts from wandering. But it was hard. How did You-Know-Who breathe under there? Did he need to breathe? Not having a body may have freed him from the habit. What about eating? Did Quirrelly have to feed himself only to return to his quarters and hold a fork up to the back of his head for You-Know-Who to repeat the process? Things like soup or porridge must be a nightmare. Did Quirrell share his stomach with You-Know-Who? Did he have to go to the bathroom more often as a consequence? What about-

Glossy brown hair. High cheekbones. Brown eyes.  Too much make-up. And a nose she never cared for. Jessie’s face flashed into the forefront of my mind. It gave off the sensation of looking into a mirror as my right hand stilled and the classroom briefly faded from my sight.

Strange. What brought that on? It wasn’t like I sat around and frequently thought about my looks. Particularly not the appearance of past me. 

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the classroom rules as Quirrell wrote them on the board. I started to make a header. But… why my right hand? Have I always been right-handed? Despite being in control, I felt distant from the action of transferring my quill to my left hand. More like I was typing commands through a keyboard rather than being the physical enactor. 

I took a breath. That felt… better? I stared at my left hand… at my left hand… Is it my left hand? What’s with the freckles?  

“Now, I d-do not like gr-grading essays. So, m-most of your grade will be ex-examination-based”. As if shocked by electricity, Quirrell’s stuttering jolted me back to awareness. 

What the hell? Stupid! Of course, it’s my hand. I wasn’t Frankenstein’s monster. It couldn’t belong to anyone else! 

Returning my quill to my right, I attempted to get something copied onto the parchment. Though I’m not sure why I’m bothering. Classroom rules are always the same. Don’t talk unless called on. No more than one unexcused tardy per term. All late assignments will be docked points unless given an extension. Under no circumstances were we permitted to bring ever-bashing boomerangs or dungbombs to class.  

A blinding flash of light. One that started behind my eyes, and suddenly I’m sitting in… bio lab. The hard plastic of safety goggles was strapped around my head. But I couldn’t feel them. Latex covered my hands. Besides me, a curly-haired girl was making notes in a spiral-bound notebook…Lena. What was she doing here? We hadn’t spoken since Sophomore year, and… But I am a Sophomore. Why wouldn’t Lena and I be speaking? We share a dorm. Not talking would be very awkward.

Lena says something. But I can’t hear. Nothing at all. Not the whirl or the air conditioner or Quirrell’s stuttering… Who’s Quirrell? Lena hands me a scalpel. My left hand grasped the handle. I really pulled the short stick today. Having to be the one to dissect the cow’s eyeball. So gross. With my left hand, I… My left hand. Why am I using my left hand? My right is dominant. 

No, it isn’t. 

Um, yeah. It is. 

There’s a hand on my shoulder. But Lena isn’t touching me. “Holly”, a voice whispered. I know that voice… It was the voice of a stranger… Who’s talking? Who’s Holly?

The lights lose their harshness; changing from fluorescents to sunlight in a blink. My quill is in my left hand. A quill? I don’t own a quill. Only a Shakespeare nerd would.  

I’m sitting in defense. George is shaking my shoulder. While Fred supports some of my weight. Rapidly blinking, it was a trial to focus. “Holly”, George whispered again. 

In the background, someone is droning on and on about being accountable for our learning; stumbling over every third word. My arms felt boneless and heavy as they lay on the desk in front of me. Fred and George. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Sam and Eric. What other literary pairs can I name? 

“Holls, your nose is bleeding”. Concern leaked out of George’s eyes as my head lulled in his direction. 

Nose? My left hand dropped the quill, and my right hand ran a finger under my nostrils. The last bloody nose I got happened when Bill and Charlie were playing catch, and a rogue quaffle hit me in the face. But when I pulled my hand away, there was blood. Ruby red and glistening in the way many liquids do. How did that happen? 

“Something’s wrong. Let’s get her out of here”, said Fred as I focused solely on the blood staining my fingertips. It was like I wasn’t capable of seeing anything else. 

Two sets of hands hauled me to my feet. My weight was shifted to George for upholding as Fred became tasked with leading the way. “Lee, can you move?” Fred asked as his friend stared wide-eyed at us. Worry apparent. Wait… No. He’s my friend too. But… Why would I be friends with a kid? I don’t even like kids. 

Professor Quirrell seemed frozen by our disruption. A piece of chalk, magically floating in front of a blackboard hovered in one spot. Despite the incomplete sentence it left behind. Quirrell’s mouth opened and closed like a sea bass out of water as he sputtered. Our classmates were murmuring loudly. No… Not my classmates. Angelina was halfway out of her seat. From the Slytherin side of the room, Pucey had stood completely. His whole body was angled towards us. Slytherin… Like something from Hogwarts? 

“Sir”, George called across the classroom as Fred shuffled me forward… No, not me. “We need to get our sister to Madam Pomfrey. We don’t know what’s-”

It was like watching a slideshow on fast forward with recorded commentary turned up to the highest volume. Images dashed across my vision as the defense classroom vanished for a third time.

 Jessie. 

Knife. 

Holly.

The knife being plunged into a bare stomach. 

Screaming. Lots of screaming. Both inside my head and… outside? “Holly!” Someone cried as my knees buckled and someone fought to keep me upright. But… Holly wasn’t my name. I’m… Who am I?  

Charlie chases little Holly around the pond. 

Jessie shopping.

Jessie gets into the driver’s seat of a car. 

Arthur tucks Holly into bed along with Fred and George. 

Knife. 

Jessie crying. 

Holly crying. 

Blood dripping off the knife. 

“She’s convulsing”, A different someone yelled. “Don’t hold her! Lay her on her side before you hurt her!” 

“Holly! Can you hear me? Holly!”

Voices reached my ears before my eyes could open. They sounded muffled; as if I was submerged underwater. But even through the murk, I could make out the words being said. “What are you saying, Professor Dumbledore?” That sounded like Mum. 

Someone held my hand; squeezing my fingers together. “While victims of legilimency attacks typically endure the ordeal with no noticeable damage, Holly displayed several symptoms: seizing, a bloody nose”. 

I tried opening my eyes. It felt like they were glued shut. “But she’ll be alright?” There was another familiar voice. A name escaped me, however; I could picture a face. Red hair. Freckles. No… that described many people. 

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. Your sister will make a full recovery. And Madam Pomfrey assured no lasting damage was sustained”. Dumbledore said. He sounded like an old man leading story time at a public library. “However, I felt it prudent to bring this matter to your attention. Given the rarity of these symptoms. 

“Visible symptoms are, historically, a sign of a confusing mind. One the attacker could not sort through”. Dumbledore explained calmly. As if merely teaching a class. Class? Was I supposed to be in class right now? Did I miss breakfast? 

“The deeper the attacker goes, the more confused the mind becomes. Hence the seizure. On record, the witches and wizards in possession of such confusing minds are those who posses multiple sets of memories”. 

“You mean…” There was another voice. How many people were here? “Holly isn’t actually Holly?” 

Okay. I want to wake up now. Straining, I tried to force my eyes open, but I couldn’t even manage a flutter. I wanted to move. But my limbs remained stationary. What sort of nightmare was this? 

“Ron, don’t be thick. Of course, she’s still Holly”. At least someone sounded offended on my behalf. 

“But Professor Dumbledore said-” Ron tried to argue. 

Another voice wasn’t having it. “Holly’s been Holly since we were born. Just because-”

“-She used to be somebody else doesn’t mean-”

“-She’s not Holly, too”.  

“Fred, George”, Mum started tentatively. “Does Holly remember a past life?” Was she mad? Disappointed? 

Silence. My fellow triplets must be scrambling. Evidently, our secret keeping skills were dismal at best. I really needed to rejoin the living now… except my body wasn’t ready. 

“Reincarnation is not unheard of”, another voice commented. It wasn’t Fred and George, or Ron. So… “But remembering a past life is… well, it’s extremely rare”. Percy! That voice belonged to Percy! The muddled mist slowly evaporated from my mind. 

Sighing, George caved first. “Holly does remember”. 

“She talked about being an American muggle”. Fred continued. “It’s why she has those nightmares. Jessie, that was her name, died horribly”. 

“Oh, my”, Mum whispered. The grip on my hand increased. Hmm… Maybe I’ll keep my eyes closed a while longer. 

“Honestly, if you think about it, I’m surprised no one noticed sooner”. George talked fast. Something we often did when trying to weasel out of certain topics. “Remember when we were little and she’d use a big word no one else knew?” 

“No one had to teach her how to tie her shoes”, Fred added. 

“The way she spells certain words”. 

Percy clicked his tongue as if just realizing. “Holly uses the American version. Despite never being exposed… I thought she might have a processing issue”. 

Well… I felt insulted. 

“Why didn’t she tell me?’ Mum asked herself. “We could’ve helped her find peace”. 

“Recalling past lives may be more common than we believe”, Dumbledore broke in. I was grateful for it. Mum needed the redirection. “Since there is no accurate record of reincarnated souls. Many may spend their whole lives with their past selves unmentioned; fearing persecution, ostracization, or experimentation. After all, laws protecting a reincarnated person were created for a reason”. 

“Experimentation?” Percy questioned. “Like one of the animals we use in Transfiguration?” He sounded ill. 

“We would never!” Mum’s voice went up several octaves. 

“I’m afraid not all would share your objections”. Dumbledore’s tone was impossibly gentle. “Please, do not judge your daughter’s secrecy. We can only imagine what worries burdened her thoughts”. 

Finally! My eyes opened sluggihsly. I was greeted by a tall vaulted ceiling. My limbs felt heavy and I had little will to move. Still, I forced my head to turn; taking in all the red heads looming over my bed. 

“Holly!” A shrill voice cried. Instinctually, my eyes sought out Mum. The only one seated. Mum lunged; causing her frizzy and graying hair to swish behind her. I nearly got a mouthful as she pulled me upright and into her arms. 

“Mum”, I greeted. My mouth was so dry that it hurt. 

“Holly, you nearly made my heart stop”. Mum squeezed me. As if afraid I’d vanish. “Getting notified from the school like that. I didn’t know what to think”. 

“Okay…” The words came out slowly. Like molasses. “I get that something happened”. Especially after the conversation I overheard. “But what… what happened?” Mum allowed me to lean back into the pillows. But not before propping them up so I could sit upright. 

“You don’t remember?” Ron asked; standing at the foot of my bed with Dumbledore behind him. An old wizened hand rested on Ron’s shoulder; offering comfort. Except… this wasn’t my bed. My eyes scanned the room. There were multiple beds, white linen, and it was clean. Very clean. 

Hospital wing. My brain supplied. “I remember breakfast”, I said; my head turning in Fred and George’s direction. “You ate three pieces of toast”, I told Fred. Percy was next to them; staring at me through his glasses. For once, the three of them weren’t at odds. 

“A normal side effect”, Dumbledore assured; his sparkling eyes focused on Mum. 

Mum’s hand engulfed mine once more. “Dear, you had a fit in class”. A fit? I gave Mum a skeptical look. Last time I had one of those was because Percy accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on my favorite doll. 

“Yeah, Holls” George said. “One minute, Quirrell was talking, and the next you were withering on the floor. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head”. Oh… that kind of fit. 

Fred nodded his agreement. “You looked like a raving lunatic”. 

“Fred”, Mum scolded; voice becoming sharp. 

“What caused it?” I asked; eyes doing a sweep before landing on Dumbledore. He mentioned legilmency. That hadn’t slipped my mind. But I needed more. “Am I in trouble?” 

“No, Miss Weasley”, Dumbledore said with a small quirk of his lips. “Rest assured, we will be investigating the matter. I am confident you have nothing to fear. However, your fit was brought on by someone attempting to evade your mind”. 

Shaking her head, unease apparent, Mum patted my hand consolingly. “Who would do that in a school? To a child?!’ My brothers looked unnaturally pale. Probably for varying reasons. Before today, legilimency was something evil from storybooks. We knew it was real but had never encountered it. 

Mum clicked her tongue; being pulled down by her thoughts. “Perhaps you should come home”. Panicking, I stared at Fred and George to express it. “I’ve homeschooled you before”. 

“Only reading, writing,and maths”, I argued. 

Mum didn’t hear me. “Our house is remote enough that I should be able to get permission for you to practice magic away from school”. 

But that would ruin everything! Harry and Ron’s budding friendship. The stone and two-faced Quirrell. Getting rid of Scabbers! I couldn’t ask Fred and George to manage this mess without me. 

“Mum-” I tried to interject. 

At the same time, Dumbledore said, “Molly, I encourage you to not treat Holly any different than your other children. What little research we have on reincarnated people-”

I did my best to look unsettled. 

“- States that, despite their memories, they have the same developmental needs as their peers. To disrupt Holly’s education and isolate her from her classmates; I fear homeschooling would not provide Holly the sanctuary you’re envisioning”. 

Dumbledore’s blue eyes were twinkling. Intrigue? Curiosity? Insight? I couldn’t determine the cause. “Dumbledore spilled the beans, Jolly Holly”. George said; drawing my attention to him. “Apparently only people like you seize from a legilimency attack”. 

“We had to fess up”, Fred continued. “They know about Jessie”. 

I knew that already, but… Snapping my head, I stared at Mum. “Please dont’ tell Dad!” 

Mum was briefly startled before she adopted a gentle expression. “Holly”, she spoke softly. As if she were comforting a wounded animal. “Your father and I love you. It doesn’t matter to us who you used to be. You have nothing to f-”

“No, it’s not that”, I interrupted what had to be a very sentimental speech. “I mean, great. Thank you. I look forward to not getting sold off to the Department of Mysteries. But I used to be a muggle. I know how to drive a car, and… and operate a fax machine. If Dad finds out, I’ll never get a moment of peace.  Please! I don’t want to teach Dad about computers, or microwaves, or garbage disposals”.

Amongst the befuddled faces of my family, who have never heard of those things before, Fred and George started laughing. They went as far as slapping their hands against their thighs. “Oh, Merlin”, Fred wiped a pretend tear from under his eye. “Imagine Dad’s reaction. ‘My Daughter was a muggle’”. He mimicked Dad’s voice before laughter engulfed him once more. 

“Do it, Mum”, George encouraged; filled with mirth. “You have to tell Dad. This is Holly’s chance to become his favorite child”. 

As my fellow triplets laughed, the tension impacting my family slowly left their shoulders. “You father and I don’t have favorites”, Mum tried. But even she was affected by their humor. 

Watching with the air of a fond grandparent, Dumbledore’s eyes never lost their cunning and mischievous light. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Impenetrable Hats

Madam Pomfrey prescribed me an anti-seizure draught and bed rest. I’d be stuck lying in this hospital bed until Wednesday. Mum worried that I’d need more time. After the boys were sent back to class, Mum sat as close to my bedside as the furniture would allow. She held a green-tinted glass bottle in her hands; reading the label to learn all about the dosage Madam Promfrey would pour down my throat after my next meal. 

“Where’s Ginny?” I asked, already feeling bored despite the fatigue that lingered in my muscles. 

Briefly glancing up, Mum used her free hand to smooth down my hair. “I had to floo Auntie Muriel and ask her to wait with Ginny at the house. Thankfully, she was available. I’m not sure who else I could’ve asked on such short notice”. 

Mentally, I sent Ginny my condolences. Poor girl. There are only so many familiar insults a person can stomach before they develop an ulcer.  

As such, Mum had to leave before she felt ready. There was dinner to prepare and Dad to inform. Something Aunt Muriel couldn’t be entrusted with. I could see the questions burning behind Mum’s eyes as she pulled another promise from Madam Pomfrey that I would recover without any problems. 

Her questions. There must be thousands. Who are you? How did you die? Why didn’t you tell us? 

But Mum voiced none of them as she kissed my forehead and made me swear that I wouldn’t cause trouble for Madam Pomfrey. And then, reluctantly, Mum left for the headmaster’s office so she could floo home. 

There was nothing left to do except stare up at the vaulted ceiling and try not to panic. Legilimency wasn’t supposed to be a problem until Ron’s fifth year. And it was only supposed to affect Harry. I needed Fred and George. They needed to be prepared. And Quirrell. Ugh! What were we going to do about that bastard? I don’t think I can get away with skipping class for the rest of the year. 

Dinner offered a small reprieve. It was hard to focus on impending doom with Madam Pomfery watching; making sure I ate every bite of my kidney pie before she administered the first dosage of anti-seizure draught. The potion was a bubbling purple mixture that tasted like Brussels sprouts and felt like slime on the way down.

However, distraction is never everlasting. Did You-Know-Who know everything about me? What if You-Know-Who saw how he would be revived? Did he learn that Wormtail was within reach as well? He could skip the philosopher’s stone entirely. Get Quirrell to quit his job, and rescue Scabbers so they could go grave robbing for old bones instead. But not before stealing some of Harry’s blood on their way out. 

Merlin, that had to be the worst case scenario. If You-Know-Who became abled-bodied now… Well, Eleven-year-old Harry wouldn’t stand a chance. Wizarding society would crumble before anyone was aware of the danger. And it would one-hundred percent be my fault. 

It was hard to stay in bed with such thoughts nesting in my brain. I played with a loose thread on my hospital blanket, tempted to unravel the whole thing. Neither lying on my back nor my side felt comfortable, and I turned constantly. Bedrest was awful. Coping would be more feasible if I could go for a walk. Honestly, I’d settle for aimless pacing. Just as long as I get to move. 

With quarters attached to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey never had to leave. Her nightly routine consisted of making sure all patients (only me tonight) had a goblet full of water sitting on their bedside table, and delivering last-minute instructions.

“You’re not a fall risk, Miss Weasley. So you may get up to use the lavatory. But then it’s straight back to bed. If you have need of me, call my name and I shall hear you”.

With one flick of her wand, Madam Pomfrey dimmed the lanterns ensconced on the walls or hanging from above. She spared no more words as she disappeared behind a heavy oak door on the far side of the ward. 

Letting out one long exhale, I slumped against the pillows and kept a wary eye on the door that led to the rest of the castle. There would be no sleeping. My thoughts were too loud, and the chance of having a nightmare was too high. Besides, if I were You-Know-Who and I stumbled upon someone who knew all my current and future exploits, and how each one would be thwarted, I’d be waiting to get them alone. 

Nothing would happen tonight… probably. I thought as I pulled my knees up to my chest and tapped my foot against the mattress. There was too much risk. Madam Pomfrey was too close. Um… my eyes flickered to my bedside table.

Where was my wand? Quickly, I scanned the area surrounding my hospital bed. Was it in my bag? My robe pocket? But there was no book bag tucked under the bed. Nor was my uniform draped over any chairs or privacy screens. Come to think of it, I had woken up dressed in hospital pajamas and hadn’t seen any of my belongings. 

Please. Please. Please, tell me Fred and George remembered to grab my things! My breath turned short as my hand pressed against my temple in a poor attempt to calm myself. What was I supposed to do?

If Quirrell came through those doors right now, what could I do? Run and hide in the hopes he wouldn’t see me in the dark? Scream for Madam Pomfrey and pray she was enough of a deterrent to stop a dark wizard? Tackle the bastard and wish for the best?

Even if I had my wand, success was slim. Instruction in defensive spells really didn’t start until fourth year. I didn’t even know stupefy yet! Would the leg-locking charm be enough to defend me against Quirrell? 

This was bad… this was stupid! I was…

The hospital wing door cracked open. Instinctively, I held my breath. Slowly releasing my knees, I prepared to make a mad dive out of bed in case I needed to find cover. The soft glow of a Lumos charm bled into the Hospital wing as the tip of a wand was poked through the small opening. 

Little hairs on my arms stood on end as the door was slowly opened wider and wider. Should I move? Was it too late? There was the water goblet that Madam Pomfrey left me. Maybe I could chuck that at Quirrell’s head.    

But the shadowed figure that came through the door was too short to be Quirrell. And he wasn’t alone. Before the door could shut, a second followed right on the heels of the first. I sighed and closed my eyes; urging my heartbeat to slow down as the two approached. This… should have been obvious.  

“Nox”, George whispered upon reaching my bedside. His Lumos charm canceled; leaving us to rely on the dimmed Hospital Wing lanterns to see each other. As George sank into the chair Mum had used earlier, Fred chose to sit on the foot of my bed. Both hadn’t bothered to change out of their robes. If I had to guess, I bet they were waiting for Percy to go to bed before coming here.  

“Did you bring the map?” I asked before either of them could get a word out. 

Fred fished around in his pocket before pulling out a folded-up bit of parchment. George one-upped it by holding out my wand. My hand wrapped around the plain, smooth handle before I could form any coherent thought. Warmth flooded my hand and trickled down my arm. Suddenly, breathing required less attention as I stared at the pale wood sticking out of my fist; tracing the little carved vine with my eyes from where it started just above the handle and ended at the tip. 

“Thank you”, I breathed. 

In another life, it would have felt absurd to be emotionally attached to a stick. Even a decorative one. But here, in the wizarding world, my wand knew my insides better than I did. It felt like a friend. One meant solely for me. 

I took the wad of parchment from Fred before my brothers could say anything. Setting it down, I tapped the center with my wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”. 

Black links of ink immediately started to spread out and sketch the castle; leaving behind little labeled black dots as it progressed. Not letting go of my wand, I spread out the map in its entirety. The parchment covered my lap as if it were a second blanket. 

“Who are you looking for, Jolly Holly?” Asked Fred as I squinted my eyes; trying to read in the dark. 

“Quirrell. If we know where he is, then we can assume…” 

“There”. George pointed to the first floor. “He’s been in his rooms since classes ended…. Well, after he went to Dumbledore’s office”. 

“Okay”, I sighed; collapsing against my pillows as my thumb ran over the carved vine that laced my wand. 

“It’s strange”, whispered Fred. “That we can’t see You-Know-Who on the map. Do you think it’s because he’s inside Quirrell’s body?” 

“Are you alright, Holls?” George asked. I could feel his eyes studying my face. 

Taking a moment, I took deep breaths and relished in having my fellow triplets close. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not this year. Not to us. I’m sorry. I thought… What if my mind wasn’t the first one You-Know-Who tried to break into?”    

Fred and George knew a lot. At least a gist of the main events. More than enough for You-Know-Who to learn and change his plans. And we’d never know. If Fred and George were the victims of legilimency too. “I shouldn’t have told you. About Scabbers, Harry, and that stupid prophecy. Not about the war. None of it. I was being selfish and… and…” 

“There’s no secrets between triplets, Jolly Holly”, Fred interrupted. “Imagine how cross we would’ve been if today was the first time we learned about Jessie”.  

“And you say that like anything would’ve changed if you hadn’t told Fred and me. What? Do you think we wouldn’t have snuck into the Hospital Wing to see you if we didn’t know the whole story?” 

I shook my head; finding it difficult to look at them. “But if I had kept my mouth shut, neither of you would be targets right now”. 

George sat with his feet firmly planted on the ground as he leaned closer and rested his forearms against his thighs. It was more attentive than Fred’s hapless shrug as he gripped my left foot from under the blanket and wiggled my big toe. “We were always going to be targets”. 

“You said it yourself”, agreed George. “Simple association”. 

“All Weasley are… or will be”. 

“Still though. If You-Know-Who knows the same things we do…” I trailed off. Not wanting to finish that sentence. “Everything is going to change. If my memories are useless, it was pointless to involve you at all”. 

“No, it wasn’t”, Fred protested. “And you don’t know. We could still have the upper hand”. 

“Remember what Dumbledore said. About your mind being too confusing for an attacker to comprehend. And we don’t know for sure if You-Know-Who did the same to us. What if it wasn’t You-Know-Who at all?” 

Scoffing, I directed my eyes to stare up at the ceiling. “Who else could it have been? What third-year is going to know legilimency?” 

“So-” Fred stopped playing with my toe to clap a hand against my shin; acting as if I hadn’t said anything. “There’s no point in worrying about what You-know-Who might or might not know. All we can do is make sure he can’t use Legilimency on us again. At least until he makes a move that tells us more”. 

Rubbing my eyes, I attempted to manage my impatience. “And how are we going to do that? We can’t master occulumency before the next defense class”. 

“We don’t need to”, George assured me. “A simple… redirection should be enough. Say, Holls? How big is your head?” 

“Why?” 

“Don’t you trust us, Jolly Holly?” Fred asked. 

Turning my head in his direction, I frowned. “No. Not after you ask a question like that”. 

Fred offered a small smile. One that would’ve been brighter in any other circumstance. “I’m hurt. Did you hear that, George? Our own sister. Our fellow triplet thinks we’re up to no good. And after all those times we helped her through nightmares and hid from Filch and Ms. Norris together”. 

I could feel myself fading the longer Fred droned on. “Just tell me what you’re planning”. 

“We don’t know if it will work yet. But what if Fred and I could make shields? Like a forcefield of magic to keep legilmency users out”, said George. 

“I’d say your talents are being wasted at Hogwarts”. 

George grinned at my answer. I didn’t miss Fred waving his wand in an intricate pattern as he muttered an incantation under his breath. A tape measurer encased in a pale shimmering blue glow shot out of his wand and wrapped around my head. “Thirty-two centimeters. Got that, Forge?” 

“I’ll remember, Gred”. 

Fred left my bed as George stood from the chair. My eyes darted back and forth between them. “That’s it?” 

“Get some sleep, Jolly Holly”, said George as Fred folded up the Maurader’s map before tapping it with his wand and muttering the appropriate phrase. “We’ll have this worked out by the time Madam Pomfrey lets you go”. 

“Wait”, I tried as Fred pocketed the map. “Why did you need to measure my head?” 

“Nighty-night, Holls”, Fred teased as he and George tiptoed to the door. 

“Come back”, I hissed after them; talking as loud as I dared. But, of course, those gits didn’t listen. 

Tuesday passed quietly. I spent most of it irritatingly trying to fathom what Fred and George were doing with the circumference of my head. Some time was wasted worrying about Quirrell and what he could be thinking now that I had been revealed in such a stupidly dramatic fashion. The only break I got happened when Alicia and Angelina visited after classes were over. “Don’t worry about your bag. We put it on your trunk”, said Alicia as they described what happened between my collapse and the time it took for someone to bring me to the Hospital wing. 

“How bad was it?” I asked; focusing on the facts Fred and George wouldn’t care enough to notice. “My skirt didn’t ride up or anything, right?” 

“No one saw your knickers”, Angelina was quick to assure. “As soon as Fred and George laid you on the floor, no one could see much. They blocked most of you from view. But… Well, Stimpson is telling everyone you were frothing at the mouth like a rabid mongrel and that you had the fit because of a werewolf bite”. That last bit was spoken with annoyance and paired with rolling eyeballs. 

I stared incredulously. Somewhat dreading the next class that we shared with Slytherins. “That doesn’t even make sense!” 

“Oh, no one believes her. Not the second part, at least”, Alicia jumped in. 

“But it was scary. When Fred and George interrupted class, you looked like you were concussed, and the blood from your nose”. Angelina’s early annoyance morphed into concern as she gave me a once-over. “When you started convulsing, it was like a tickling charm gone wrong. Quirrell didn’t know what to do. He stood there and watched. I’m surprised he didn’t faint”. 

“Pucey, though!” Alicia leaned in closer. “He jumped right out of his seat. Told Fred and George to lie you on your side during the seizure. And he yelled at Quirrell to summon Madam Pomfrey. After you were carted off, Quirrell gave Slytherin twenty house points for Pucey’s quick thinking”. 

Flushing scarlet, I buried my face in my hands. That had to be the worst first day of school in history.  

On Wednesday, I was released. However, Madam Pomfrey’s meticulous care meant I wasn’t free to go until first class was over. Fortunately, that meant I got to miss Quirrell’s class. Unfortunately, it meant I was ten minutes late for my second class. There was quite a distance between the Hospital Wing and the dungeons, after all.   

“How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Weasley”, Snape drawled after I tried to slip inside the classroom undetected. He stood in the front of the steam-hazed classroom; overlooking the rows of lab tables. Instructions for the wide-eye potion were scrawled out on the board. 

The door creaked shut behind me as a classroom full of heads swiveled to stare at the latecomer. Immediately, I spotted Fred and George sharing a cauldron in the back. With broad grins, they showed me all their teeth. These gits. 

But there was no dawdling about it. My spine straightened to face Snape. “Sorry, sir. I was-”

“I know where you were, silly girl”, Snape interrupted; pacing to the center of the classroom where he loomed menacingly. Mouth snapping shut, I quirked my tongue to force its silence. 

“And as riveting as it may seem in your small life”, Snape paused; taking the time to sneer. “Or perhaps, not such a small life. There is no reason to disrupt my class. Sit down, Miss Weasley”. Snape said very slowly. As if a drawn-out tempo was the only way I’d be able to understand.

I waited until Snape’s back was turned before sticking out my tongue. So sorry. I thought, moving to take a seat. I didn’t realize being attacked would cause problems for the all-mighty Professor Snape. 

The first potions class of the year would have happened directly after Quirrell’s class on that awful first day. Which meant I missed the annual scramble to claim a potions partner whom you didn’t mind sitting next to all year. Fred and George didn’t get the chance to try to rope Alicia or Angelina into partnering with me. Lee didn’t get to make his usual attempt. In fact, he seemed rather content sitting next to one of the no-name girls from my dorm. But I had worried. Would Snape have paired Pucey with someone else since I was absent?

Walking briskly to the front of the classroom, it was a relief to see that my usual seat was empty. Joining the Slytherins on their side of the classroom, I slid into my spot and returned the nod Pucey offered in greeting. 

“As I was saying”, Snape drawled; demanding our attention. “We’ll start with a simple brew. It was mentioned in your summer reading and it was discussed during Monday’s lecture. As such, there will be no acceptable reason for any mishaps or shortcomings”. Snape took his time to stare down as many students as he could. Though he seemed to favor the Gryffindor side of the classroom. “You may begin”.

Pucey inched closer to my side of the work bench. Our shoulders touched. “How are you fairing?” He asked lowly. Too low for anyone to overhear. 

“Oh, I’m… fine. Thanks for asking”. I tried not to overtly scold myself for sounding so dim-witted. Pucey didn’t look convinced. His mouth was pressed into a fine line as his grey eyes bore into me. As if assessing the answer for himself. “Um…We’ll need six snake fangs, four measures of standard ingredient, six dried billywig stingers, and two wolfbane sprigs”, I read from the blackboard.  

Finishing his staring, Pucey sighed but obliged. “Standard ingredient and billywig stingers will be in our kits, but we’ll have to use Professor Snape’s stores for the wolfsbane and snake fangs”. 

My index finger repeatedly tapped against the table. All I had on me was my wand. I hadn’t thought to stop by Gryffindor Tower on my way to class. “I’ll fetch the snake fangs and wolfsbane”. 

Before I could stand, a hand covered mine. It was warmer than last time. “No”, Pucey stood in my place. “You can use my kit and I’ll look for the other two ingredients. As you said, you’ve just come from the hospital”. 

Pucey’s manner was calm and put-together as he slid a neatly organized kit in front of me. The one I owned was a repurposed shoe box. Each of my siblings was sent to school with one. We recycled glass bottles to store the common ingredients. And I couldn’t recall where the other bits and pieces came from, such as; the cutting board, ladle, knife, and the mortar and pestle. But Pucey’s had clearly been store-bought. Its case was protected by a leather skin. To open it, I had to undo a latch. Each bottle had a label with designs that matched, and the tools were polished; lacking the wear and tear of age.  

“Shan’t be long”, Pucey promised as I got to work.

This was our third year of being lab partners. Pucey and I had developed a system. I cut the ingredients, and he measured out the correct amounts. He used the mortar, and I stirred the cauldron. He managed the flame, and I kept track of the time. Our roles were well-defined; creating no need to talk. Which meant anything said was spoken because we wanted to. 

“You were missed at the first arithmancy lesson”. Pucey added the snake fangs and standard ingredient to the mortar. He rubbed his fingers over the top to make sure all the herbal mixture left his fingertips. 

Getting the cauldron ready to brew, I bent closer. “Did I miss anything important?” 

“Nothing of consequence”, Pucey assured; pausing in his task to watch me light the cauldron. “I can loan you my class notes”. 

Agumenti allowed me to fill our cauldron with water. Not enough for it to add any magical properties of its own. Just enough to start the base of the potion. It needed to bubble before the billywig stingers could be added. “I’d appreciate it”. I said right as Snape wandered over. 

With his hands clasped behind his back, Snape peered into Pucey’s mortar and then into our cauldron with his long-hooked nose. His scrutiny was silent. So, Pucey and I were quiet too. After a moment, we were awarded with a reserved “Acceptable” before Snape wandered off. 

“Was Madam Pomfrey able to determine what caused your… episode?” Pucey wasn’t looking at me as he finished grinding the ingredients in the mortar. Nor I him as I tossed in the six billywig stingers into the bubbling cauldron. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I stole a look at Fred and George. They weren’t focused on the assignment; appearing to haphazardly throw ingredients into their cauldron. We hadn’t discussed what I should tell people. I mean, it happened in the middle of class, so there was no pretending that it never happened. Dumbledore told Mum it was a legilimency attack. Percy and Ron knew as well. Trying to keep it a secret felt foolhardy. It’s just… If seizing during a legilimency attack only happened to reincarnated people, wouldn’t that make it too easy for people to figure out that I remembered a past life?

What would Fred and George do? 

Pucey spooned four measures of the ground mixture into the cauldron. I took hold of the ladle and started stirring clockwise. “Dumbledore said I was attacked. They don’t know who did it, but he promised my mum they’re looking into it”. 

Adjusting the heat with his wand, Pucey stilled. I caught a brief glimmer of emotion on his face. Although it was hard to read. Nervousness, displeasure, concern. It felt like many different things at once.

“I see”, Pucey said as we settled in to watch our potion to darken in color. Once it did, we could safely add the wolfsbane. “And you’re positive? That you are alright”. 

The smile I gave Pucey lacked confidence as I subdued the urge to turn around again so Fred and George could tell me the answer. “I’ll have to be”. 

Transfiguration was after potions. Or at least it was for the Gryffindors. Pucey and I separated as soon as we left the potions lab. Fred and George pounced the moment I was alone. “Did you have a good time, Jolly Holly?” Fred asked; appearing on my right. 

“Pucey seemed to have a lot to say”, George said; taking his place on my left. Walking shoulder to shoulder, we headed up the dungeon stairs. En route to McGonagall’s classroom. 

Unfortunately, that entailed walking passed Quirrell’s classroom. A shudder shot up my spine. “Why didn’t you visit me yesterday?”

“We were busy”, said George. 

“Yes, there were probably more heads that needed measuring”. 

“You’ll thank us soon enough”, Fred assured. 

We paused at the foot of a staircase. One we’d walk straight past before reaching the transfiguration courtyard. Students of all years had to squeeze past us. Some smiled in greeting. A few complained about us blocking the way. Most whispered behind their hands as their eyes lingered. It wasn’t hard to imagine what was said. “That’s her. The one who had the fit in Quirrell’s class. I heard she was bitten by a werewolf”. An unimaginative lot, really. 

Grinding my teeth, I wanted to say something. Confront them, maybe. But neither Fred nor George was bothered. Instead of answering my questions, Fred pulled out something pink from his book bag. He handed it to me as if he were presenting me with some priceless artifact.

Utterly confused, I turned the object around in my hands. Soft to the touch, its shape quickly identified the object. Round with four flaps. Two of which were tied up at the sides with a neat little bow on top. “It’s a hat”. 

“Yes”, Fred agreed. 

“Is the hat going to help?” 

“Yes”, George answered.

“... But it’s a hat”. 

“Not just any run of the muck hat”, Fred argued; digging in his book bag for a second time. 

“This is a hat of our own invention”, George said as he copied Fred. “It’s an impenetrable hat”. 

“Resistant to most magic”. 

Fred revealed a second hat. One that matched the style of the first. Only his was red. George took out a third hat. His was blue. “We charmed them using speculo”. George jammed his hat onto his head.

“Any magic aimed at the wearer will be redirected back to the caster”, explained Fred as he donned his red hat. 

I eyed the pink one with a frown. “I thought the reflection charm only worked as a live spell”. Meaning it was only effective when being cast in the heat of a duel. Otherwise, why wouldn’t everyone walk around with their clothes charmed for protection?   

 “There’s a rune sewn inside to make the spell stick and last longer”, George continued. “We’re thinking it will last about a month, and then we’ll just cast the charm again”.

I turned the pink hat around once more. “That’s… Why hasn’t anyone else thought of this? Are you sure it’ll work?” 

Fred and George grinned; feeling mighty pleased with themselves. “We expanded on an idea we had for invisibility hats that would make the wearer appear headless”. 

“All we had to do was change out the invisibility potion for the reflection charm. The real trick is-”

“-Getting the magic to agree with the hat and remain dormant until it's needed. That took trial and error”. 

George took the pink hat from my hands. “We skipped meals to finish these beauties in time. Honestly, it was good that you were in the hospital wing. Percy thought we were eating with you. Kept him from getting suspicious”, explained Fred as George fitted the pink monstrosity to my head; making sure to pull the flaps so they rested snuggling over my ears.

I let out a forlorn sigh; feeling apprehension. Pink absolutely clashed with red hair. “But why this type of hat? The muggleborns are going to think we’re obsessed with Sherlock Holmes?” 

George tilted his head to the side. “Who’s that?”

None of my references ever work. “Never mind”. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Broomsticks and Midnight Duels

“Take those atrocious things off at once”. The students who had reached the classroom before us turned and stared. None of the Gryffindors looked too surprised as McGonall left her desk to march straight for us, and the Ravenclaws we shared this class with were an eclectic bunch to begin with. They might not see anything wrong with wearing a deerstalker to class. 

Fred nudged his elbow into my side, prompting me to say. “Sorry, Professor. But can I please wear it? Fred and George made it for me. They said it would help protect my head in case I have another seizure and fall”. The scripted sentiments were expressed in an extremely tired voice. 

“Cushioning charm”, Fred added. 

McGonagall gave me a sympathetic look.“Your concern for your sister is admirable. However, you three can rest assured that there will be no legilimency in my class or any other. Professor Dumbledore has the matter well in hand”. 

Fred dug his elbow into my ribs again. “Please, Professor. Can’t I wear it? It helps me feel safe”. My flat tone suggested otherwise; causing Fred to jab me a third time. I don’t know what to tell him. If Fred wanted a performance, he should’ve hired an actor. 

McGonagall gave me a long look. How many times have we done something like this? Me trying to talk our way out of trouble because Fred and George thought she’d soften the blow?

“That doesn’t explain, Mister Weasley, why you two are also wearing hats”. I was given a reprieve as McGonagall redirected her no-nonsense stare to my brothers. She and I both knew they were the true masterminds behind everything… Except that time Stimpson’s boot laces kept disappearing. That one was all me. 

“Well, Ma’am”, George started. “We are triplets”. 

“We prefer to match”, Fred finished. 

McGonagall pressed her lips together as if holding her breath. For a moment, she refused to look at us. “Very well”, McGonagall said, once composed. “You may keep your hats. But keep to the back of the room. I won’t have you distracting your classmates”, she ordered before returning to her desk. Yeah. She gave up on us ages ago.      

McGonagall sentencing us to the back of the room wasn’t an ordeal. Fred and George always chose to sit in the back. As such, Lee was already there when we moved to join him. The classroom was set up with ten desks that could sit two people. Organized into two even columns. George and I claimed the very back, while Fred sat next to Lee, directly in front of me. 

Twisting around, Fred handed me our transfiguration book that he pulled from his bag. “Here. I’ll share with Lee”. 

McGonagall started class by saying, “On Monday, we reviewed the previous year and the summer assignment. Today will be an introduction to a new topic”. McGonagall walked the length of the classroom; stopping when she reached the blackboard that sat near a window. No one dared to make a peep as we settled in for the lesson.

“This term, we’ll discuss the theory behind human transfiguration. Now, the application of human transfiguration is highly advanced magic. So, you will not be taught any spells regarding the subject unless you continue with transfiguration at the NEWT level”. 

A series of groans echoed throughout the class. There was nothing worse than going to magic school and only learning theory. 

McGonagall silenced the class with one stern look. “It is important to understand the theory as you will be required to write an essay and give a small presentation about the differences between human transfiguration and animagi. Which we will also be studying”. 

My fellow triplets and I shared a look. Our matching hats made the exchange look like something out of a cult. Of all the dumb luck. 

“This assignment will be due at the end of term. And you may work in groups of two or four. Be aware, groups of four will be required to turn in a four-foot essay. While the two-person groups are only required to write a two-foot essay”. 

Everyone started searching the room; trying to choose their groups then and there. Lee made eye contact with Fred. Angelina and Alicia turned around at their desk in the third row; sending me an inquiring look. Slowly, I shook my head; gesturing subtly to George sitting on my right. 

“We will go over possible topics today, and at the end of class, you’ll form your groups. Now, to start. Can anyone tell me what human transfiguration is?” 

No one got the chance to answer. A girl from Ravenclaw jerked to her feet; pointing hurriedly to the window near the blackboard. “Professor!” She called, voice tinged with alarm. 

McGonagall turned in time to see a little black blob speeding straight for the window. As the blob flew closer and closer, it stopped being a blob and began to resemble a boy on a broomstick. 

The boy’s hand was stretched in front of him as he lay hunched over the top of the broom. Like he was trying to catch something. McGonagall stepped back and withdrew her wand from somewhere in her robes’ pocket. She raised it but hesitated. Did she save the boy before he flew through a window? Or did she save her class from being pelted with shards of glass? To be fair, it was a rather small window. The boy was probably in worse danger. 

But McGonagall didn’t have to do anything! At the last second, the boy caught whatever he was reaching for and turned his broom. Only then was he recognizable. “Wasn’t that Potter?” Angelina asked aloud. 

The question snapped McGonagall out of whatever daze she was in. “Read the chapter on human transfiguration in your books!” She ordered; hurrying down the aisle of desks. “Everyone is to remain seated until I return”. And then she was out the door. 

A brief moment of silence filled the transfiguration classroom as everyone processed what had just occurred. I mean… It’s not every day a teacher abandons a lesson. But the moment passed, and books were instantly discarded. Students turned in their seats; talking to neighbors. Fred and Lee pulled their chairs back so they could face us more comfortably “Was that-” Fred started to say; adjusting the left flap on his hat. 

“Ron’s flying class?” George finished. 

“So, this project”, Lee broke in a little later. McGonagall was still absent. Probably having just made it down to the pitch. “Do you want to work together?" 

Fred and George gave me considering looks that quickly turned into puppy eyes. With our hidden agenda, working with Lee wasn’t wise. And I’d prefer it if we didn’t. But puppy eyes were hard to ignore, especially after they had skipped meals for my well-being. “Alright”, I caved. “We can be a group of four, but I get to pick the topic”. 

By the time McGonagall got back, very few people were still in their original seats. However, McGonagall was in a shockingly good mood, and the worst consequence was losing a few house points. 

In a way, I was grateful. Harry making his flying debut was the perfect distraction. Now, the most recent piece of gossip was the famous Mr. Harry Potter making the quidditch team as a first-year.

Amazing! Especially because he hadn’t tried out!

How astounding was it that he’d be the only first-year to ever make a house team? First-years weren’t even allowed their own brooms, so naturally they couldn’t try out for quidditch. Everyone was talking about it. Suddenly, the girl who had a fit in class wasn’t so interesting. 

Lunch that day was wonderful. The whispering didn’t follow me as the school’s scrutiny was directed towards someone else. I was free to eat without feeling like I was under a spyglass. Fred, George, and I stuffed ourselves with fish and chips. We were having plenty of luck getting whole platters of food to ourselves during meals. I think our choice of headwear was a contributing factor. 

But I couldn’t afford to tune out completely. Glancing up to ask Fred for the tomato sauce, I spotted a blond snake and his goons standing far too close to Gryffindor table. Slicked back hair. Upturned nose. There was no need to guess what his name was. 

Malfoy was flanked by who could only be Crabbe and Goyle. They seemed to loom over Ron and Harry as the two tried to turn around on the bench. Their backs were facing their half-filled plates of food. Even from a distance, I could clearly make out Ron’s agitated scowl. 

“Fred! George! Fred! George!” I said in a rush; grabbing the sleeves of their respective robes and tugging. 

George tried to bat my hand away as Fred startled. Nearly choking, he thumped his chest and forced himself to swallow. “Merlin, woman! No one needs tomato sauce that badly”. 

“No, look”. I pulled on his arm and pointed further down the table to where Ron sat. I gave George another nudge, and soon we were all staring. 

“Why is Malfoy talking to Ron and Harry?” Asked George. 

“I don’t think I mentioned this bit”, I said as the conversation between the first-years played out.

“What?” They asked together. 

The only problem… was recalling what happened. “Harry just got placed on the quidditch team. Malfoy isn’t happy about losing face during their flying lesson. He’ll goad Harry and Ron into breaking curfew… tonight, I think”.

Fred and George nodded; urging me to continue. “But it’s a trick. Somehow. I just can’t remember. Ron and Harry fall for it. Hermione will try to stop them, but ends up joining… They go to the third-floor corridor where they’ll meet the three-headed dog”. 

Fred’s fish and chips sat untouched. “So, we can go up to the firsties now and stop this, or we can stop Ron and Harry from leaving the tower”. 

“Holly, does anything important happen by Harry and Ron breaking curfew?” George asked.

“Umm”, I tried to think. Judging by the vibrant tips of Ron’s ears, their conversation with Draco would be over soon. “They discover the three-headed dog. Which eventually leads them to Hagrid. He’ll tell them how to put the dog to sleep. And it’s another interaction with Hermione. But… I don’t know if it’s important overall”. 

Glancing away from the first years, I searched my brothers’ faces for their opinions. They chewed on their bottom lips; mulling over the information. Much too slowly for my liking. “Do they get hurt?” Fred asked. 

I shook my head. “Just rattles them a bit. They won’t even get caught”. 

Fred and George looked at each other; having a silent conversation I couldn’t follow. When finished, they shrugged. “Do nothing”, they said. Two words. That’s it, and they were back to eating. 

“Do nothing?” 

“Yeah”, George spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You said no one gets hurt”. 

“And we need Harry to know about the dog”, Fred said; placing the bottle of tomato sauce in front of me. 

“But what if something different happens? What if the dog manages to attack them? What if Ron gets mauled?” I can’t let Ron get hurt. Especially not by a three-headed dog. It could scar him for life. Literally and figuratively. The boy was already afraid of spiders. We don’t need to throw dogs into the mix. 

Throwing back their heads, Fred and George groaned. Meanwhile, their red and blue hats stayed perfectly in place. “Blimey, Holls”, Fred complained. 

“You’re starting to sound like Mum”, George said. 

“I do not!” 

While my indignation was ignored, Malfoy and his cronies walked away. “We can’t fight Ron’s battles for him”, Fred said; taking a bite of fish. 

George finished chewing and swallowing. “Or he’ll never toughen up”. 

“We’re doing him a kindness”, both boys said. 

I stared at my fellow triplets; questioning if I heard them right. George added more chips to his plate, and Fred took a swig of pumpkin juice. “It’s a kindness to knowingly allow our little brother to stumble across an aggressive three-headed dog?” My eyes widened marginally. 

However, Fred and George were unaffected by the urgency I tried to instill. “Yes”, they answered promptly. 

At my less-than-pleased and slightly terrified look, Fred rolled his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Holls. You can’t keep molly-coddling Ron forever”. 

Molly-coddle Ron? Who does that? I wanted to argue. But George spoke before I could find the words. “Stay in our dorm tonight”. 

“We’ll watch the map”. 

“Make sure they return to Gryffindor Tower”, George finished. Unhappy, but placated, I agreed with a hesitant nod. They better be right. I thought; reaching for the tomato sauce. Ron better be alright. 

“Hey”, George stared. “Do you think the phrase ‘molly-coddling’ was named after Mum?”

Donned in an old Weird Sisters t-shirt I had nicked from Bill and loosely fitted pajama bottoms belonging to Percy, I climbed the stairs to the boys’ dorms at ten o’clock. The pink hat was left behind. Some thought was put into being on the lookout for Percy, who wasn’t aware that I had some of his clothes. But the common room was mostly empty. The few remaining stragglers consisted of fifth and seventh years panicked about their OWL and NEWT studies. No one noticed as I sipped up the boys’ staircase. 

With a lot less precaution, I barged into Fred and George’s dorm. Lee was already konked out. And the two other unimportant roommates were slowly getting ready for bed. “Merlin!” One of them exclaimed; clutching his shirt ot his bare chest. 

I didn’t linger. There’s nothing to see and the no-names have never been interesting, so… why bother? Fred made room for me as I beelined for his bed. “What are you doing here?” The no-name asked, flustered. 

“Nightmares”, I threw over my shoulder; sitting next to Fred with our backs resting against the headrest. George joined us at the foot of the bed. He held the map, currently resembling a blank bit of parchment, in his left hand. 

The no-name sputtered, face red. “Liar! None of us have gone to sleep yet”. 

George reached over to grip the curtains surrounding Fred’s four-poster bed. “She has nightmares!” Fred spoke forcefully as George yanked the curtains shut; blocking out the affronted faces of no-name roommates one and two. 

One silencing charm, a ‘I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good’ later, and we were in business. “They’re still in their dorms”, said George; laying the map in the middle of the bed. He pointed to the first-year girls’ dorm where we could see Hermione’s name. And then over to the boys’ dorms, where we found Harry and Ron. 

“Wait”. Fred leaned forward to point out a fourth name. One that overlapped Ron’s. Peter Pettigrew. “How have we never noticed?” 

I shrugged. When we got the map in our first year, it was one of the first things I searched for. If only to validate all my previous rodent disposal attempts. At the time, I dreamt up scenarios where Fred or George would take notice of the unfamiliar name and how it was always attached to our brother’s. But they never did, and I couldn’t think of how to explain it, the embodiment of my shortcomings living in Percy’s pockets, so… I remained mum about the manner.

George studied the little dots very closely. “Merlin!” He said after a moment. “I think Ron has Scabbers in his bed. Our little brother is sleeping with a murderer in his bed!” 

Fred bumped me with his shoulder. “Suddenly, facing a three-headed dog doesn’t seem all that bad, does it?” He was dutifully ignored. 

“They probably won’t leave until it’s closer to midnight”, I said. Everyone should have retired by then. From experience, that was the best time to do some sneaking after hours. But then, what should we do for the next two hours…

“It was a dark and stormy night”, I said in a low voice. 

Fred sighed. “Holls, you don’t have to start every story with ‘it was a dark and stormy night’”. 

“Do try to be original”. 

I frowned. Way to break the atmosphere. “I'm telling the story. I’ll tell it any way I want”. When there were no more complaints, I continued. “Becky was home alone with her dog. It was late, so she decided to go to bed, and her dog went with her”. 

“Riveting stuff”, George said. 

“Shut up. But Becky would have a hard time falling asleep”. 

“Oh?” Fred asked. “Because it was a dark and stormy night?” As George snickered, I covered my nose with my hands and took a deep breath. Why suggest telling scary stories if they were just going to make fun of it? 

Once George was done laughing, Fred waved a hand at me. “Please go on. I’m dying to know what happens next”. 

“Because throughout the night, she kept hearing strange sounds. Footsteps that shouldn’t be there and the sound of dripping coming from her ensuite bathroom. But Becky was reassured whenever she lowered her hand to the underside of her bed. Because that is where her dog liked to sleep. And he would lick her hand. Surely, Becky was safe as long as her dog was looking out for her”. 

“I bet she wasn’t safe”, George said. “What was it? A poltergeist? Burglar? Maybe an ex-boyfriend?”

I made the choice to just keep going. “Dozing on and off, listening to these frightening sounds, Becky made it through the night”. 

“Jolly Holly, I don’t think you understand how a scary story is supposed to work”, said Fred. “The main character never makes it through the night. If they survive, it isn’t a scary story. Shouldn’t someone who was killed know that?” 

I jabbed Fred with my elbow. “But she couldn’t find her dog anywhere. Becky called his name, but he never came. Concerned, she headed for her bathroom. Maybe Becky would take a shower before setting off to find her missing dog. But when she turned on the bathroom light, Becky saw a gruesome sight”. 

“No!” George mocked. 

“Yes!” I replied. “Her dog was dead in her bathtub, having been stabbed multiple times. And on the tile, written in her dog’s blood, was this sentence: ‘Humans can lick too’. So, the question remains, what, or rather, who was licking Becky’s hand all night?” 

My brothers stared. Their eyes were comically wide. But it didn’t take long for them to recover. And soon they were laughing out loud. If it wasn’t for the silencing charm on Fred’s curtains, their roommates would’ve been displeased. “That was disgusting”, said George. 

“Absolutely horrid”, Fred agreed. 

“Jolly Holly strikes again!” 

“You should write it down and sell it to the Daily Prophet”, said Fred, void of seriousness. “I bet they’d love it”. 

I rubbed my eyes. Leave it to these two not to be scared at all. “I can’t sell it. I didn’t make it up. It’s something called an urban legend. Something I remember from Jessie’s life”. 

“Merlin”, George said as he and Fred quieted down. “Muggles sure are morbid”. 

There’s no time for another story. Activity on the Marauder’s map caught our attention and held it. “There goes Harry and Ron”. I said; watching their dots enter the common room. 

“And Granger is already waiting for them”, Fred noted.

With our heads bent together, we tracked the first adventure of the golden trio. For some reason, the three headed to the trophy room. But once there, they quickly fled from a fast-approaching Mrs. Norris and Filch. Focused on not getting caught rather than where they were going, the first years ended up on the third-floor corridor. Where us triplets saw a new name on the map. 

“Fluffy?” George read. “Is the three-headed dog called Fluffy?” 

I nodded, distracted by the three dots representing Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they ran for their lives. 

George shook his head. “Hagrid has issues”. 

We continued to stare at the map until Ron, Harry, and Hermione were back in the common room, safe once more. “See, Holls”, said Fred.

At the same time, George tapped the map with his wand and said, “Mischief managed”. 

“Nothing happened. Just as you said. So, let’s go to sleep and not worry about ickle Ronniekins anymore”. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Third Wheel Tactic

I love the library. Not to the point where I needed to spend every waking minute perusing the shelves. But there was something wonderful about books that could shelve themselves, the smell of old pages, and the natural light shining through tall windows. However, recently I’d been dreading coming here. 

Sitting on opposite ends of a long table, Lee blinked at me. His hands rested innocently in front of him. A good sign, if not for the fact that they were covering the pages of the book he was supposed to be reading.

Curling and uncurling my fingers, I breathed through my nose. Fred, George, and I would be having words if I had to do this entire project by myself. Sure, Harry had gotten that Nimbus 2000 from McGonagall. Naturally, that meant Wood had to hold quidditch practice three times a week. Of course, I didn’t want Fred and George to stop doing something they loved because of nonsense I pulled them into. However, at no point in time did I agree to doing their homework on top of entertaining their best friend… Who was also supposed to be contributing! 

"This book says animagi can be told apart from regular animals by characteristics that they carry in their lives as people. I wonder if we can find any examples". 

Looking up from my book, my eyes widened as my whole body flinched. Lee was no longer sitting across from me. His book had been abandoned, and instead, there was a boy giving me googly eyes directly to my left. 

"Merlin", I complained a little too loudly for the library. Running my hands over the pages of my book in a poor attempt to restrain myself, I narrowed my eyes in warning. “You agreed. After last time, you promised to stay on your side of the table and actually study”. 

Lee smiled. His eyes glinted in a way that made me want to hex him. "I can't help it. You attract me". 

Oh, bother. I clicked my tongue. “Funny, because you repel me”. 

This game… yeah, it was getting old. Lee didn’t even like me. Not in that way. He couldn’t be best friends with Fred and George, and hold affections for me at the same time. That romantic trope was strictly reserved for Ron, Ginny, and Mr. Harry Potter after they grew up some. But for whatever reason, Lee thought it was hysterical; watching me turn him down every other breath. What would he do, I wondered. If, one day, I reciprocated. Just to throw him off balance. 

Lee leaned forward; forcing me to lean backward. "That's why opposites attract".

Merlin, spare me. I cringed. That’s not even how positives and negatives work! Not 100% of the time, that is. 

Walking past our table, carrying a stack of books almost taller than herself, I saw my savior. "Granger!" I called out as the bushy-haired first-year before having a clue about what I would say.

Getting out of my chair, I approached the girl, who seemed surprised someone had called her by name. Grabbing the top stack of her books, I held them in my arms so Hermione would actually see me. Big brown eyes blinked in suspicion. "Granger, yeah?" I asked. "That's your name?" 

"Yes," Hermione spoke slowly; blushing at the sudden attention. "My name's Hermione".

"Hi," I said, terribly aware that Lee was watching my every move. "I'm Holly Weasley".

"I know. You're Ron's older sister. The one who had a fit in class".

How long would it take for the school to forget about that first day of classes? Would ‘The girl-who-has-fits’ become my new moniker? Of course, wearing this stupid pink hat wasn’t helping.  

"Yeah, right," I said, talking fast to avoid any of the questions I could see building behind Hermione’s eyes. "Hey. So, I'm in Gryffindor. Lee over there is in Gryffindor, and so are you. So, how about you come over and study with us?" I offered, not bothering to point Lee out to the first-year as I carried half of her books to Lee's and my table.

"Umm”. Hermione sounded unsure. Which… fair. Two random third-years she had never talked to before were asking her to study with them. Why? Was it a prank? More hazing? 

But I refused to take no for an answer! "You can take my seat," I said, placing the books I had stolen in front of my previously occupied chair. "And we can move my stuff right here". Sliding my book and bag across from Lee, I tried not to let my relief show.

Highly confused at this point, Hermione set her remaining books down and slowly sank into the offered seat. I sat into my new chair; feeling Lee’s eyes as I reclaimed my book. When I looked up, Lee’s lips were pressed together and his eyes were laughing, barely keeping everything inside. "So, transfiguration, yeah?" He asked. 

That wasn’t the only time I had to invoke the same strategy. In fact, it worked so well that the next time Lee and I worked on our project, I was up and out of my seat the moment Lee dropped a pick-up line.

Our discussion about how witches and wizards don't get to choose their animagus forms was left on pause as I, very calmly I might add, stepped away from the table and took to searching the library.

However, my calm appearance was challenged by the speed at which I took my steps. Combing through the library; looking for a familiar face, I felt lucky upon spotting Percy. Percy, who seemed to be on a very comfortable study date with Ms. Clearwater. They occupied a small table in a secluded corner. Each had their own books, but that didn’t stop the two from tucking their heads close together. 

Well… This was an emergency. "Percy!" I said, leaning over the table and sticking my head between the love birds.

Percy jumped. "Holly?" He started out confused; adjusting his glasses. "What are you doing? We're in a library!"

It didn’t take Percy long to sound offended. Almost as if he was insulted on the library’s behalf for my lack of etiquette. Percy leaned forward; his eyes searching for Ms. Clearwater, if only to assure she was still there before giving me the full force of his unhappy glare. "And that was very rude!" He scolded; gesturing with his quill in Clearwater's direction.

I looked over my shoulder at the blonde Ravenclaw prefect. "Hello. Clearwater, was it? I'm Holly. Percy's sister. Can't say how pleased I am to meet you. You're a saint, really. Being able to put up with Percy. He's very high maintenance. I'll tell you". 

Clearwater wasn’t given the chance to respond as I quickly returned my attention to my older brother. Who’s disapproving frown told me his every opinion regarding my little monologue. looked entirely unimpressed by my little monologue. "I need your help".

Percy’s ire transformed into an expression of disbelief. His eyes shifted back and forth between me and Clearwater in a rapid fashion. As if asking, 'Now?!' 

Giggling erupted behind me. Breaking Percy and me from our staring match as we glanced in Clearwater’s direction. She seemed unable to control the sprouts of giggles escaping from her mouth. Every time she seemed close to collecting herself, Clearwater would look at us redheads and be subjected to another bout of humor.

“Seems like this is a family issue”, Clearwater said; standing as she started gathering her things. The sentence had to be said with a few pauses. To allow for the giggling. 

"Wait, Penelope", Percy tried; putting up a hand to stop her. 

But the Ravenclaw was already excusing herself; carrying her books in her arms and slinging her bag over her shoulder. Percy and I watched her go. One more open-mouthed than the other. When we made eye contact once again, Percy looked like he wanted to throttle me.

“Holly Weasley!” He growled. 

"I'm sorry, but I really do need your help". I spoke quickly, probably sidestepping a very long lecture. This was annoying. Frustrating. Who’d be okay with a younger sibling interrupting their date? But it's not like he'll marry Clearwater. Besides, if Percy was truly in love with her, he would’ve gone after her. 

Percy furrowed his brow and clutched the quill in his hand a little too tightly. "With what?"

"Lee's flirting with me, and I need it to stop". For my sanity, I needed it to stop.

Dropping his quill, Percy removed his glasses. They were dropped gently onto his book as Percy ran his hands over his face. "It's Lee, Holly! Fred and George's friend. He's not going to do anything. If you don't like it, just leave!"

Sticking out my lower lip, I forced it to quiver; making sure Percy got a good look before turning my back to him. "I just wanted to take your advice. Keeping my focus on school and not on boys". I said softly, but loud enough for him to hear every word. 

"Holly?" Percy asked, suddenly unsure.

My shoulders tremored as if I were sobbing. "But we're working on a school project together. So, I can't ... I can't just leave". I said, throwing out a couple of pants in between my words to imitate wetness and shortness of breath.

"Holly, are you… Are you crying?" I heard the sound of his chair scraping against the hardwood floor before Percy’s hand landed on my shoulder; guiding me around to face him.

Needing to be quicker than him, I threw myself against Percy’s chest, hiding my face in his robes before he could see that my eyes were actually dry. Hesitantly, with jerky movements, Percy wrapped his arms across my spine. 

"Help me, please", I begged. "You don't have to do much. Just sit between us. You can even do your own studying". 

After a heavy sigh and a firm pat on my back, Percy followed me back to where Lee was sitting. For the remainder of the afternoon, Percy maintained surveillance over Lee and me. Stationed between us, just as I had asked him to. 

Lee and I accomplished a lot that afternoon. More than we had on any other occasion. We now had our citations and an outline for the paper. But the success didn’t occur without some challenges from my opponent. On a few occasions, Percy had to look up from his muggle studies assignment and say at random intervals, "Hands where I can see them" or "That doesn't sound like Transfiguration, Jordan". 

Each statement caused Lee to shift uncomfortably. Or maybe it was due to Percy’s warning glare. Meanwhile, it took significant effort not to laugh at Lee’s discomfort. Who knew beating Lee at his own game would be so much fun?

The next time, I didn’t bother to wait for Lee to say or do something stupid. As soon as we found a table, I ran away; telling Lee I was searching for more books on animagi. It would’ve been a much more convincing lie had I gone to the transfiguration section. But I wandered the library aimlessly; trying to find a familiar face or an unsuspecting first-year I could manipulate into joining us. 

However, it seemed Hogwarts’ student body had better things to do on a Thursday afternoon. There were a few seventh years. A couple of fifth years. And none of them from Gryffindor. Pursing my lips, I wandered into the arithmancy section. Maybe it was time for Lee and me to work in the common room. The common room was rarely empty. 

In thought, my feet registered his presence before my brain did. Stopping at the end of two bookshelves, I stared. Should I… This could lead to trouble. Specifically, rumors and drama with Fred and George that I didn’t want to deal with. But… what was the alternative? Let Lee win?

Today's hero stood with his head bent; poring over a thick almanac balanced in his hands. The angle of his bent neck and his clean haircut promoted his aristocratic cheekbones. For a minute longer, I remained at the start of the aisle; trying to think this through and ultimately falling short. "Pucey", I whispered; walking in his direction.

Pucey looked up at the sound of his name. When he saw it was me, the almanac snapped closed. "Weasley", he greeted me once I was close enough.

"I… need a favor," I said slowly, not quite sure how to present my case. How does one propose sabotage? I strong-armed Hermione into helping. With Percy, it was a mere matter of igniting his big brother instincts. But with Pucey… none of that would work. I mean, if other houses knew how to manipulate Slytherins, they wouldn’t have such a poor reputation. Now, would they? 

The only thing to do was ask. It's just, 'Can you please sit between me and my brothers' best friend so he doesn't pretend to flirt with me' was such a weird question. What if Pucey says no? 

Tucking the almanac under his arm, Pucey pivoted on his heel every so slightly. Turning just enough so our shoulders lined up. Even though his shoulders were an inch or two higher than mine. "And what would that be?" Pucey asked with a raised eyebrow. His face was poised with just a hint of amusement. If the upturn of the left corner of his mouth was a strong enough tell.

"Are you going to be in the library for very long?" I asked. Moving my hands behind my back, one hand wrapped around my wrist to keep them still and out of sight. Just so I couldn’t fidget with them in a fashion that Pucey could judge.

"I could be persuaded to stay". Pucey stared me down; evoking a rush of heat to my face. Despite the chilliness in the air that came with drafty old castles and the end of September.

I tried to think about how to phrase my next question. A difficult feat considering how it felt like some words were evading me. Maybe if I explained. "So, McGonagall assigned a transfiguration project. I’m sure it’s the same for your class. Anyway, Fred and George are at quidditch practice. So they can’t be here. And when they’re not here, Lee- You know Lee Jordan, right? He’s working on the project with my brothers and me. Well, he likes to… say uncomfortable things”.

And suddenly, Pucey was a few inches closer than before. Should I back up? I should back up. It would be… um… polite. Proper. Less distracting, even. However, despite thinking that, my feet didn’t budge. "But I can make Lee stop if someone is with us, Lee's more... tolerable", I continued; ignoring the semi-shadowed look that seemed to spark Pucey’s intensity, and the tingles shooting up my spine in response. Merlin, that expression should be illegal. 

"Jordan is flirting with you without your consent?" Pucey asked.

Well, when he says it like that, he makes it sound like Lee was doing something awful. "Yes," I answered carefully. "But he's not… being a git about it. He’s harmless. Mostly. Jordan just likes flirting with girls. He thinks it’s funny. Everyone laughs… mostly. We all know it's a joke. A game. But it does make it difficult to work on transfiguration”.

Yeah, that’s it, Holly. Stick to academics. Academics are good… safe. 

However, Pucey wasn’t ready to move on to safer waters. "So, he's toying with you?" Pucey’s voice had adopted a coarse undertone. Very different from his usual smooth-sounding syntax. Maybe I should have asked someone else. Madam Pince could have been an option. Both Lee and I would’ve been miserable if she had agreed…

My mouth started to answer; forming an affirming answer. But at the last second, I thought better of it. Letting go of my wrist, I clapped my hands together and held them in front of my nose. “Please study with Lee and me”.

Dear Merlin, why didn’t I just start with that? 

Pucey didn’t respond right away. Instead, he inched closer. "What do I get for this favor?"

I chuckled nervously. "The joy of helping a friend".

Pucey smirked as if suggesting that I was missing something. "You know better, Weasley. I'm not a Hufflepuff. My price for favors is a little steeper".

Chuckling subsided, I raised one eyebrow instead. "Meaning you have a price. And something you want. Otherwise, you wouldn’t bring it up. So, what is it?”

"The first Hogsmeade weekend is in October," Pucey said very casually.

I rocked a little on my heels. "Yes, it is".

"Stimpson has asked me to go with her".

I smacked my lips together as my face twisted into a scowl. "Has she?"

Pucey nodded, his smirk stretching further across his face. Does he just want to brag? "I told her I couldn't accompany her because I already had plans. Plans that you could finalize for me. It would be nice, not to be caught in a lie”. 

Hoping to wizard god that my flushed skin wasn’t blending in with my hair, I tried to think of any way that I could be reading the situation wrong. "So, you'll study with Lee and me if…" I trailed off, not wanting to outwardly assume the wrong thing.

"If you'll go to Hogsmeade with me".

"My brothers won't like it".

"I'm aware," Pucey retorted.

"People will see us". I reasoned. "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin together outside of class. They might accuse us of trying to unify the houses".

"Let them," Pucey muttered.

"I'll be wearing this ridiculous hat". I said, pointing towards the pink monstrosity currently residing on top of my head.

Pucey gave the hat a long-suffering look. Truly debating if he wanted to be seen with me and this hat in public. But a brief deliberation was all he required to make a decision. "I'll endure". He promised solemnly.

If I leaned forward right now on my tip-toes, I could totally kiss him. That thought forced me to snap back to reality. Instead, I coughed, closed-mouthed, and took a step back. "It's a deal, Mr. Pucey". I said, holding out my hand.

Lips held together in an entertained manner, Pucey straightened his back and engulfed my hand in his own. As always, I felt the quidditch calluses on his hands. Just as firm as ever, I recalled. "Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Weasley". He said, shaking my hand once.

When I led Pucey to where Lee and I had set up, neither boy looked thrilled to be in the other's presence. But aside from a few scathing remarks and less than friendly looks, both behaved well enough. Pucey continued to read his almanac while Lee and I discussed exactly what we should include in our transfiguration project.

By the end of our study session, Lee and I decided that since we did most of the research, Fred and George could write most of the essay, and all four of us would focus on the presentation. I was feeling pretty good about myself after we said goodbye to Pucey, and Lee and I headed back to Gryffindor Tower… It only lasted until Lee tattled on me to Fred and George. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

My End of the Deal

Early in the morning, the clock had just struck seven. Monday through Friday, we’d already be dressed and on our way to breakfast. But this was Saturday. October twelfth, to be specific. Which meant late starts, no uniforms, and a scheduled Hogsmeade visit. 

Having finished a hot shower that left my skin pruny and pink, I stood in front of my bed. My dressing gown wrapped around me as I stared at the contents of my wardrobe covering its surface. Wet hair stuck to the sides of my face as I pondered my options. 

Old jeans that Mum had taken in to fit me. T-Shirts Bill and Charlie had outgrown. A random button-down that I honestly didn’t remember packing. I think that one had come from a second-hand shop. Why was the majority of my clothes meant for boys? 

It was a stupid question. There were some advantages to having six brothers. However, considering the family budget, now was not one of those times.

The Hogwarts uniform was a good thing, I decided; frowning when none of my options sparked any confidence. Not having to think about what to pull on in the morning was a blessing. Because one does not think about appearances when one has six brothers. Time was better spent fighting them over the last piece of bacon, or attempting to secure a hiding place for your diary. That said, outside of uniform, it’s been years since I’ve worn matching socks. 

"Holly, what are you doing?” Alicia asked from where she sat on her bed; pulling a hairbrush through her thick locks. “You've been standing there for the last five minutes".

Hogsmeade weekends were atypical for the Gryffindor quidditch players. They consisted of the only Saturdays where Wood didn’t demand their presence on the pitch. Not that Wood would cancel practice if he didn’t have to. But if he denied all fun, his teammates would be forced to stage a coup. As such, Alicia and Angelina always took advantage. From having lay-ins to prioritizing grooming. 

“I look like a boy”. The words left my lips before I really considered them. 

Alicia freed her brush from a small tangle before tilting her head slightly. As if she hadn’t understood. "Pardon?"

Pushing the muscles in my lips side to side, I tried to collect my thoughts. Always a struggle as they were prone to running away from me. “All my clothes. They’re for boys”.

As if needing to prove a point, I started holding up different articles of clothing for Alicia to study. “This shirt with the dragon. It was Charlie’s favorite when he was ten. These pants, Mum fixed them so they’re shaped right. But Bill picked them out. And this-” Plucking a dull blue turtle-neck from my bed, I shook it in the air. “Percy outgrew last winter. On me, it looks like… like…” 

“Like you’re wearing a blanket with sleeves”, Alicia supplied when I was too flustered to think of a comparison.

“Exactly!” With a flick of my wrist, I sent the turtle-neck billowing back down onto my bed. There were my school skirts. Those were distinctly feminine even if we were in the country that invented kilts. 

Alicia snorted; setting her hairbrush on her bedside table as she left her bed to join me in looming over mine. “You don’t look like a boy”, Alicia promised as her eyes scanned my limited options. “That is, unless you switched places with Fred or George again”.  

Appreciating the sarcastic lilt in her voice, I gave a singular laugh. “We only did that once”, I assured her; recalling our time as first-years.

Fred had wanted to see what the girls’ dorm looked like. He wanted to know if the rumors were true about us having bigger alcoves and better bathrooms. So, upon mastering the hair growing chair, he asked me to switch bottoms with him. 

I had let him. Enjoyment was found in watching Fred trying to walk around when he wasn’t used to the swishing and fluttering of a skirt. Even more so, when Fred learned that the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitory were enchanted. Something, I conveniently hadn’t mentioned. 

But, without magical means, neither Fred nor George was able to switch places with me anymore. During our second year, they grew taller than me. Around that time, my chest changed from flat to semi-bumpy… There was a thought. Maybe I should wear my bra on the outside of my clothes. There would be no mistaking me for my brothers if I made that fashion statement. 

"Why do you have an obsessive amount of plaid?" Alicia asked. She had one finger pressed against her lips as she studied the same dismal mess that I was. 

Shrugging, my eyes picked out all the faded button-up shirts that I liked to wear unbuttoned and over a T-shirt. “Bill went through a phase”.

Unsatisfied, but too polite to voice it, Alicia hummed; giving herself time. While she thought, I tried to pick out the tops that would pair best with one of my skirts. But none of my options would hang right. Might even look silly… Actually, anything I put on could be described as silly. Thanks to Fred and George’s atrocious pink hat. 

“Why the sudden interest? You’ve never cared before”. 

Correction, I wanted to say. I’ve never cared out loud before. Why would I? It would only hurt Mum’s feelings. None of my brothers would understand. Holly Weasley was trying to be a better person. In a way, dressing like this felt like repentance. Not that I could tell Alicia any of that. 

Honestly, I’m not positive I wanted her to know about today’s plan either. But… C’est la vie. “Pucey asked me to visit Hogsmeade with him”. The words came out kind of mumbled as I refused to look at Alicia and her bug-eyed stare. Or so I imagined.

Was she happy for me? Surprised? Did Alicia think I had gone barmy? “Really?” There was no mistaking the disbelief in her voice. “So Fred wasn’t pulling my leg. A Slytherin asked a Gryffindor. That has to be a first”. 

Exhaling through my mouth, I briefly closed my eyes. If only to block out the spectacle it felt like I was becoming. “It’s nothing worth getting worked up about. I’m just… returning a favor”.

Pucey and I… We’d, I don’t know, widow shop around Hogsmeade. Unless Pucey wanted to buy something, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend money. We’d either make painful attempts at small talk or suffer in silence. Maybe we’d end the day with a quick butter beer where he’d decide that I was too much of a mess for his tastes. While he was doing that, I’d reinforce my boring opinion of him. We’d probably make it back to the castle before lunch ended, and… I was describing all of Jessie’s first dates perfectly.  

Recovering slightly, Alicia brought me back to task. “Well, it’s not advisable to wear your brothers’ clothes on a date”. 

“Do you have to call it that?” 

"I have a blouse that might fit you. Do you want to try it on?” With Alicia's help, I donned a pair of leggings with one of my school skirts that was paired with a borrowed gray cardigan from Alicia. She said that it was the only decent thing either of us had that stood the chance of not clashing with the pink hat I insisted on wearing. 

Under Alicia’s guidance, my hair couldn’t be left unstyled for a first date. I let Alicia plait it for me after she spent about ten minutes watching me struggle to pull it into a lopsided ponytail. In my defense, all my hairstyling knowledge came from Bill after he decided to grow his hair long. Knowledge from my first life was no help with hairstyling. Jessie chose to wear knitted caps most days and got away with just brushing out the tangles. 

At 8:10 in the morning, I left Gryffindor Tower and headed for the Entrance Hall. Pucey stood waiting by the Entrance Hall doors. Dressed in a light jacket pulled over a white, pressed shirt, his Slytherin scarf was the most colorful thing on his person. It was wrapped under his chin and tied in an overhand knot; making me wonder if he spent as much time as I did trying to decide what to wear. 

He wasn't alone. A fact that had Pucey holding his shoulders stiffly. As if he were restraining himself from ill-advised actions as Stimpson hung off of his arm. "Adrian, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I know you’re shy". The dishwater blonde simpered.

I paused my descent halfway down the staircase. Squatting behind the railing, I stuffed a fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. Pucey, shy? I mean, sure. Pucey was quiet. He wore disinterest like a shield. But to be on the receiving end of a Pucey stare was… Well, shy would not have been a word I’d used to describe it. 

Peaking over the top of the stone banister, I studied Pucey closely. The tautness of his cheeks and his clenched fists were very telling. But nice… I suppose. That he wasn’t snapping. That his hands never lashed out to force Stimpson away. Nor did he make any attempt to pull out his wand. Which was more likely in this world. Most wizards weren’t too keen about using their hands. 

"Stimpson", Pucey started. He used refined tones despite the displeasure communicated in his posture. "I assure you. My time is spoken for. She is merely running late".

That should be my cue to approach the very happy couple and give Pucey the reprieve he was promised. But watching Stimpson moan in faux sympathy was too entertaining to miss. "Oh, Adrian, it's alright. We've all told lies before".

The urge to snigger became harder and harder to ignore. This… I remembered this. Being thirteen and thinking you already knew how the world worked. Picturing yourself as insertive and convincing when you couldn’t be farther from the truth. Forcing confidence when you felt nothing but awkwardness.  

“You can admit it. You didn’t have plans to visit Hogsmeade”. Stimpson pressed herself against Pucey; resembling a koala clinging to a tree. 

Pucey’s face darkened, consumed by a cloud of indignation. "You forget yourself, Stimpson''. Staring straight ahead, Pucey refused to spare Stimpson another glance. His next words were delivered purposefully. Almost with a military-esque type of quality. “No one born with the social responsibility of you and I carry should lower themselves to such a poor standard. Lying about company. How pathetic”. 

His delivery was as sharp as an icy wind; causing Stimpson to freeze. Hell, even I felt rebuked by Pucey’s words. Despite my being safely tucked away in my hiding spot. "Now, my mother would smother me in my sleep if I laid hands on a girl. So, do me a favor, and let go". 

As if burned, Stimpson jumped away.  Eyes panicked, she stood with her hands raised in front of her. As if she didn’t recognize the person she’d been clinging to. Then Pucey did something truly scary. "Weasley!" 

At the sound of my name, I popped up from my squatting position like a jack-in-the-box. 

"Stop lurking around like a scavenger and let's go".

Forcing out a nervous, guilty laugh, I adjusted the pink hat on my head as I finished walking down the stairs. "Sorry, I was late. I got held up", I said as I occupied the space Stimpson had just vacated. Although I didn’t stand as close.

Pucey used the corner of his eyes to share his impressions. "By the banister, apparently”. 

Stimpson flinched further back at Adrian’s ire. But I snorted. One that I worked hard to cut short; schooling my face to look unaffected. Merlin, Pucey wore sarcasm like how I wear deodorant.

As if choking on water, Stimpson started sputtering. It had everything to do with Pucey offering me his arm. “I see you’re wearing that awful hat”. Pucey observed as I tentatively accepted. My hand rested on the inside portion of his elbow, and Pucey clamped his arm close to his side; drawing me in.

"I told you I would”, I said with a hapless shrug.

"Weasley?” Stimpson gapped. “The person you have plans with is a Weasley?"

Huh. When did my surname become a swear word? Stimpson spoke it with such fervent vile that it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.  

Pucey had no more words to spare as he steered us toward the great double doors. “Bye, Stimpson”, I said; twisting around to wiggle the fingers of my free hand in her direction. “See you in class”. 

A disapproving sigh and a hard tug on my occupied arm redirected my attention. "Don't encourage her", Pucey ordered; opening the door and allowing us to step into the morning light.

Maybe with noise pollution in mind, Hogsmeade station wasn’t located within Hogsmeade village. Instead, it was a short walk from the station to the village along a pleasantly cultivated dirt path and aligned with short stone walls. 

As such, I had never traveled further than Hogsmeade station. With October growing, the air was crisp and the leaves had already started to change color. A few decorated the path as Adrian and I walked. We elected for silence, comfortable with sharing space as our thoughts remained private. 

I had heard about Hogsmeade, of course. From multiple sources. A sixteen-year-old Bill once went into great detail about why you should let a girl talk you into visiting Madam Puddifoot’s. Especially if the bloke was expected to pay. Naturally, he had shared this with Charlie; unaware that I had been hiding under his bed for a game of hide and seek. 

Charlie once bought chocolate frogs from Honeydukes to bribe Fred, George, and me into studying for final exams during our first year. Unknowst to him, we had already visited the sweetshop thanks to Maurader’s Map and the one-eyed witch statue. 

And Percy liked to press upon the importance that Hogsmeade was the only settlement in wizarding UK that housed only magical folk. “Hogsmeade is a vital cornerstone of preserving our history”, he liked to say. 

All my brothers' stories and descriptions were vague. They didn’t talk about the thatched roofs that each shop and house sported. There was no mention of cobbled streets or the big oak tree that grew in the center of Hogsmeade’s little shopping center; offering shade and its branches decorated with different bunting that changed to reflect the seasons. 

I was left to picture Hogsmeade as Jessie remembered it to be. As such, it felt like I had done something wrong when Pucey and I walked through a little covered bridge and got our first look at the village. It wasn’t the snowy winter wonderland I was accustomed to envisioning. No carollers. No fairy lights or holiday shoppers. And no snow. In early October, the most festive thing I spotted was some pumpkins sitting on top of stoops leading to private residences or stacked in front of shop entrances. 

Still, it was a joyful atmosphere. Shopkeepers and homeowners were cheery as they waved and chatted with their weekend visitors. It was a different sort of hospitality one might find when shopping at Diagon Alley. Something that made me appreciate how much Hogsmeade must depend on Hogwarts for commerce. 

Students from different houses and years wandered from shop to shop. It felt nice to see everyone outside of their school uniforms. Leading through our joined arms, Pucey moved us to the side of the bridge so as to not block the way. “What would you like to see first?” He asked. His eyes focused solely on me rather than the tantalizing new sights that surrounded us. As if Pucey had seen it all before.

Pulling my arm free from his, I angled my body to face him instead of standing side-by-side. “Today, I’m your companion, Pucey. So, I think you should choose, but…” I gave a wistful stare in the direction behind me. Where little blasts of fire works could be seen shooting up into the sky, accompanied by the occasional strange noise. Something many of our peers seemed to make a beeline for. “Perhaps we can skip Zonko’s. Unless you would like to have a chat with my brothers”. 

Well, two of them at any rate. Percy was around here somewhere. Most likely with Clearwater. But I was having difficulty picturing where my introverted brother would feel comfortable amongst all the hustle and bustle. 

The left side of Pucey’s lips pulled up as he tucked his chin ever so slightly. “What did you tell them? To get away from the day?” 

“The truth”. Folding my arms across my chest, I matched Pucey’s expression. “You should watch your back for the next few days”. 

Pucey’s amusement was silent as his breath momentarily changed. “There should be a stationary shop just around the corner. I’ve been meaning to find a new quill”. Offering his arm once more, Pucey and I continued on our way; walking around peers as they lingered in front of shop windows, and avoiding locals who were trying to draw in business. 

Conversation did not flow naturally as Pucey and I wandered the village. Without school work to direct us, we struggled to find topics we were both comfortable with. Many times, Pucey looked like he wanted to say something, only for him to shake his head every so slightly before moving us further down the street or to a different shop display. Evidently, neither one of us thought much of small talk. 

Honestly, it was a little shocking that I couldn’t remember how to start a conversation. With Angelina and Alicia, they tended to start them. I just knew how to ask the appropriate questions. For Fred and George, it was more like we had one never-ending conversation that we paused and picked up whenever it suited us. There were never any opening statements or curious inquiries.

But had I always been this bad at it? Jessie dated frequently. I recalled a revolving door of boyfriends. And yet I couldn’t work up the courage to ask Pucey what he thought of last night’s dinner? Or places he might like to travel to after finishing school? 

That’s not to say that Pucey and I didn’t try. “So… um… whose’s your favorite teacher?” I asked as we sat in the middle of the Three Broomsticks. It was so packed that it felt like I would run into another patron if I moved my chair an inch in either direction. I sat across from Pucey, my hands wrapped around a pint of butter beer he had treated me to. 

Filled to the brim with background chatter, Pucey struggled to hear me. Leaning closer and expression calculated, he tried to piece together my question. When he had, Pucey remained as close as the table between us would allow. “Professor Vector has grown on me since the start of term”. 

“Really?” I questioned; straining my voice to be heard over the group of seventh years getting into a heated debate about duelling etiquette behind me. “But the homework for her class is so repetitive”. 

“She doesn’t mince words. Her lessons aren’t muddled by over explanations”. 

“I suppose that’s true”. Shrugging, I took a sip of my drink. Trying to be delicate to avoid getting froth ringed around my mouth. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t say Snape. I thought Slytherins are contractually obligated to claim him as their favorite”. 

Amused, Pucey lowered his eyes and wiped some condensation from the side of his mug. “Is Professor McGonagall your favorite?” 

I shook my head; giving Pucey a small smile as if suggesting he wouldn’t believe me. “It’s Snape, actually”. Pucey was surprised enough that he paused with his pint raised halfway to his mouth. “But Flitwick is a close second”. 

“Our first year, our first class with Professor Snape, you looked like you were about to cry when he made you leave your brothers to partner with me”. 

I made an open-handed gesture; my wrists never leaving the table. “He stops being scary after a while. And once you grow accustomed to his sarcasm, it is a bit funny”. It went unsaid that I had an easier time than most Gryffindors in his class. All thanks to my Slytherin lab partner. To the point that I didn’t get berated every time I was asked to contribute in class discussions. Snape even seemed to have more tolerance for my questions than other Gryffindors. At times, I enjoyed phrasing things in certain ways to see if I could provoke a reaction. “Besides, you and I never would’ve been able to talk like this if he hadn’t forced us together. So how bad can the man be, really?” 

The smug confidence I was used to seeing came back as Pucey’s lips pressed into a closed lip smile. As if I had just announced him the victor of some great competition. Except, he didn’t gloat as I would have expected with a different Slytherin. Instead, Pucey turned his head to side; staring across the pub without actually seeing it. “He’s always had a sharp tongue. Few know how to appreciate it”. 

My hands twitched as I went to pick up my pint. That felt… Most students wouldn’t talk about a teacher while sounding so familiar. Did Snape know Pucey’s parents? Did Pucey see Snape outside of school? 

“Weasley”, Pucey turned back. To his left, a group of Hufflepuffs started laughing and cheering as two of their mates attempted to see who could chug a butterbeer the fastest. “I’ve been thinking about what happened in defense and…” I blinked at Pucey as he seemed to lose his nerves. One of the Hufflepuffs won and slammed down the mug on the table extra loud. Pucey sighed. “It’s too loud in here. Shall we go outside? You haven’t seen the Shrieking Shack yet”. 

“Alright”.

It was probably the most prominent urban legend at Hogwarts: a creepy-looking, crumbling house that stood on the edge of Hogsmeade and off the beaten path that it couldn’t be seen from the village. Naturally, its mystery became exaggerated by the mere fact that the property was barred off by a barbed wire fence and no one was ever seen past the perimeter. 

Everyone wondered who owned it. Who had lived there at some point in time? If anyone had ever lived there at all. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to join in on the fun of conspiracizing with my friends. And I had stolen that pleasure from Fred and George too.

We knew the shrieking shack was a safe haven. No matter how bleak the house appeared. Owned by the school and left untouched all to protect one prior student who had a particularly furry problem.

Pucey didn’t appear enthused by its existence. However, that didn’t stop us from making the trek out of the village to take a look. Nor did it mean that we hurried back upon completing another Hogwarts tradition. It was pleasant, in a way. I suppose. Taking a break from Hogsmeade’s active streets to stand quietly in nature with favorable company. As it were, Pucey and I were the only ones standing in front of the barbed wire fence. 

"You'll be cold, Weasley''. Pucey said as he turned away from the dilapidated building. He reached up to unwind his scarf from around his neck.

Despite my heart stuttering a beat, I remained still; breathing through my nose as Pucey rewrapped his scarf around my neck. The soft fabric brushed the underside of my chin as I picked up the scents of mint and pine. Like Christmas. 

When Pucey finished, he stepped back. His expression was half resigned and half… something else as he took in my appearance. It must have been a sight. I can't imagine a grey cardigan, a green and silver scarf, and a pink deerstalker are an attractive combination. 

"I'm glad you asked me to come with you. Even if it was just so you could avoid Stimpson".

Pucey faced the shrieking shack once more. "You're only saying that because you got to tease her this morning. If you were truly trying to help me avoid her, you wouldn't antagonize her so".

"Stimpson just makes it so easy". I said. Turning my eyes back to the shrieking shack as well, I bumped shoulders with the solemn boy. "But you could’ve asked any girl in Slytherin. I’m sure they would have accepted”. 

Pucey shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as he moved his hands behind his back. His posture was immaculate. "I suppose. But today is my birthday. I'm allowed to spend it with whom I wish".

My head twisted to look at him. It happened without my permission. “Happy birthday”, I said before ordering myself to look away. I couldn’t deny the sudden heat rushing to my face. And I don’t think it is because of the scarf. "You're fourteen now?"

Pucey hummed in the affirmative. Though this discussion wasn’t going in the direction he wanted, I suspected. He took a step away from me and kept his hands locked behind his back as if making a silent promise to keep his hands to himself. “Weasley, about what I was trying to say earlier. About what happened in Professor Quirrell’s class and what Professor Dumbledore told you. It was legilimency, wasn’t it?” 

“How do you…” But I trailed off; too bewildered to finish the question. The attack that happened on the first day of school hadn’t been widely circulated. My fellow triplets and I weren’t trying to hide it. But it was passed off as a fluke. Just like that time Stimpson’s werewolf story had been more popular. And there had been no mention of Legelimency. Not beyond my family, and certain members of staff, if I had to guess. 

“There was no flash of light. No one had their wand out”, Pucey was quick to explain. His eyes studied me as if he expected to learn more from my body language than from anything I might say. “Whatever type of attack could it have been if not legilimency?” Despite phrasing his points as questions, there was no mistaking the conviction Pucey used to express his claims. 

Surprised and trying to break myself out of it, I gave my head a little shake. “I mean… yeah, that’s what happened. But how did you know?”

Nostrils flaring, Pucey closed his mouth and stared for a good, long minute. It kind of gave me the impression that Pucey was chewing on his words. “Have you considered learning occumency?”

“Occulumency?” I repeated the word. Suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, I reached up the adjust the hat that protected my head. 

“I can teach you the basics if you would like”. Despite it being an offer, it felt more like an order. One I shrugged off along with a heaping amount of wariness. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so pleasant; standing outside of Hogsmeade’s view. 

“Why are you studying occulumency? Most in our year don’t even know what that is”. 

“But you do”, Pucey said as if that confirmed something to him. Keeping his distance, Pucey didn’t look away as two conflicting thoughts seemed to battle behind his eyes. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t begun studying the art already”. 

My left foot slid back. My right hand hovered over the pocket that carried my wand. “Why would I need to know occulumency? Do you think I’ll be attacked again?” 

“Because, Weasley”. Pucey frowned at me. As if he were annoyed I was making him say it aloud. “After a legilimency attack, seizing only occurs if victims remember a past life”. 

This time I took a step back for real. “I don’t want to talk about that”. 

For a second, the half-smile returns to Pucey's face. But it doesn't last. "You're good at playing the part of a schoolgirl."

"Because I am a schoolgirl”. 

"Giggling with your friends. Causing havoc with your brothers. And you genuinely seem to be enjoying school life. I almost missed it. I almost thought you were exactly like all the others. Naive and unaware. But when you think no one is looking, your face ages. You've seen things that our peers have not. You've thought of things that no child ever has”. 

“Stop! This isn’t any of your business”. Although not intending it, my voice came out pleading. Merlin, I don’t think I’ve experienced a day being ruined as suddenly as this one had. And things had been going so well! Fred and George would never let me hear the end of it when I told them, and… Pucey. What was the point of all this? A large part of me dreaded to know the answer. 

Pucey’s expression was twisted up in such a fashion that he seemed to fervently believe that it was very much indeed his business. “You’re not denying it", he pointed out. As if that meant something. “Look, Weasley. If you’ve been targeted once, you can be targeted again-”

“Is that it?” I interrupted; waving my arms as my fears took me down a different path. “Are you threatening me?” 

“No. I’m-”  

“What are you going to do? Tell the whole school if I don’t… I don’t know!” My ideas were flying around like bees protecting a hive. Except none of them were connecting. I started pacing without realizing it. Fall leaves crunched under my shoes as I twisted the fringe of Pucey’s scarf around my fingers.   

It didn’t make sense. Sure, maybe others would alienate me for being something they couldn’t explain. But my family already knew. Fred and George hadn’t treated me any different. Mum said she and Dad didn’t care. I got the occasional strange and curious look from Ron and Percy, but… It would suck if Angelina, Alicia, and other classmates wanted to distance themselves. Sure, I’d survive. As long as I had my family intact, the rest didn’t matter

“Weasley, would you listen to me?!” 

What was the point of Pucey confronting me? If he was disgusted about having an “adult” trapped in a girl’s body attending school with him, then… getting me to follow him to the Shreaking Shack didn’t make sense! If he did want something for keeping my secret (although it wasn’t much of a secret anymore… at least, the first half), then what was it? And surely he must have realised a threat wouldn’t work. Fred and George would never allow it.

Did he want to ogle at the oddity before it became common knowledge? Had anyone else figured it out? Was it morbid curiosity? Did he have questions about death? And that stuff about occulemency lessons. Why? It wasn’t adding up.

“Weasley!” 

Pucey kept his distance, but his hands were now clenched at his sides. He was breathing faster as his stare turned hard and determined. At the sound of my name, I stilled; facing Pucey once more. Something in my chest ached as emotion clogged the back of my throat. 

It had been such a lovely day. No thinking about the years ahead of us. Or worrying about Scabbers napping in Ron’s pockets. Away from school and out of robes, Pucey had I hadn’t gotten the usual looks as we walked together. What would happen,  I wondered. If Pucey found out that I used to be a muggle? 

“I can help you”, Pucey was saying. But I barely heard him. My heartbeat was too loud to hear him properly. “I can teach you what I know… we can master occulumency together. What happened in Professor Quirrell’s class does not have to happen again”. 

“I… I need to find Fred and George”. First, I backed up a few more steps; catching a look at Pucey’s face, which had darkened as I turned away from him.

He may have called my name again… I couldn’t remember.  

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Troll! In the Dungeon!

Suddenly, the excitement of Hogsmeade felt too loud. Loud enough that my ears ached, and I jumped at every unexpected noise. My neck began to hurt from how often I kept glancing behind me. No was following me… I kept checking. 

Fred and George were somewhere in Hogsmeade. I knew that. But… I ended up hurrying back to the castle. Traveling a brisk walk that frequently turned into a run. The same picturesque nature trail I had appreciated before now felt lost to my eyes. 

I was sweating and breathing through my mouth when I reached Hogwarts’ gates. Pushing passed Filch, I barely saw him as I made a beeline for the castle. “Come back and check in properly, bloody brat!” He snarled after me. But his words couldn’t touch me. 

The need to move hadn’t dissipated by the time I made it through the Entrance Hall and reached the grand staircase. My feet dribbled up them as fast as I dared on staircases that liked to change. Whenever there was a landing, I sprinted across it. It was foolish, I supposed; assuming that my past life wouldn’t be uncovered by others. Stupid, I guess; trying to use Jessie’s memories while also wishing she’d fade away. 

By the time I reached the seventh floor, standing in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, I was out of breath. Panting, I stood hunched over my knees with my hands braced against them. My eyes stung as my breath hitched with more than just overexertion. I’d have to apologize to Alicia for getting her cardigan extra smelly.  

If Pucey figured it out, others would follow, right? It was expecting too much to believe Fred, George, and I could keep it a secret. Maybe Jessie’s memories could remain hidden. Those were too bizarre for anyone to guess. But Holly Weasley, the once muggle American… Would everyone find out? Would Pucey make sure of it? 

It was terrifying to think about. A million different horrible scenarios could be dreamt up. From teachers and peers treating me differently to the Department of Mysteries hunting me down. Standing in front of Gryffindor Tower, trying not to cry about it wasn’t helping either.

If my reincarnation became common knowledge, would anyone want to talk to me? Aside from my family, that is. Fred and George weren’t bothered. Mum claimed her and Dad didn’t care. Percy and Ron were… trying. Bill, Charlie, and Giny… How would they feel about the matter when they found out? If they hadn’t been told already. I’d… I’d never be only Holly ever again. Would I?

Shutting my eyes as tightly as I could, my whole face squinched as I fought back tears. Being Holly was wonderful. Comfortable. Fun even. I liked Holly and the people who surrounded her. Jessie, on the other hand, well… Holly was a second chance. Holly wasn’t an embarrassment or a disappointment… I wasn’t ready for that to change. 

"Holly? What are you doing?" An unsure and slightly embarrassed voice liberated me from my existential crisis. Snapping at the waist, I stood upright. Standing next to me, the portrait door still open behind them, were Ron and Harry. Ron stared as if trying to decide if he should go get help. While Harry, slightly behind my little brother, was doing his best not to make eye contact.

It was like trying to climb out of quicksand. My mind grappled for the right words. The few that came to mind were not ones I’d ever want to burden Ron with. There was no suppressing the swell of emotion that had made me run up all of those stairs. So… I took two long strides and dragged Ron into a suffocating hug. “Ron, do you still love me?” 

He began to sputter and squirm as I tucked his head under my chin and buried my nose into the hair on top of his head. One day soon, Ron would be too tall and too big for me to get away with this. “You don’t care that I’ve died once before, right?” I asked. Meanwhile, keeping his distance, Harry flushed pink. His feet shifted uncomfortably. 

“Holly! Quit it!” Ron demanded as he tried to wiggle free. “I’m not Fred and George!” 

“Do you promise?” I asked; hanging on for dear life. “That you’ll always call me Holly?” 

“I’m about to call you a nutter if you don’t let go!” 

Ron broke free and hurriedly rejoined Harry; scowling and straightening his clothes as he went. Unlike Harry’s pink flush, Ron’s face was tomato red. The color went all the way to his ears. “What is wrong with you? There better not be a sign on my back like last time!” Ron seethed before glancing at his friend. “Harry, is there?” 

Mouth slightly agape, Harry shook his head; muttering a quick “No”. He seemed overwhelmed by Weasley antics. And probably would be until he got to witness Mum wrangling us in.    

Taking a breath, Ron’s shoulders relaxed. When he looked back at me, his nose wrinkled; hiding his softening expression. “We’re going to Hagrid’s. You can come too. If you want. But no more hugging!” 

Slowly, I shook my head. “I’m going to wait for Fred and George”. 

Ron nodded once. As if he suspected nothing less. We passed each other. Me heading for the common room, and he and Harry toward the stairs. “She’s always like this”, I heard Ron complain before I could disappear behind the safety of the Fat Lady. “Not as bad as Fred and George, but still… Whoever made her cry like that better hope Percy finds out first, because Fred and George will kill them”. 

It was hours before Fred and George returned. I ended up sequestering in the 3rd year boys’ dormitory; hugging George’s pillow and hiding behind the curtains of his bed. They came rambling in a little before dinner with pockets stuffed full of sweets and other contraband that needed to be hidden away in their trunks. I listened to their laughter as they talked about how many jelly slugs Lee ate before he made himself sick. But they fell quiet upon realizing that the dorm had changed from how they had left it. 

The bed curtains were yanked back, and Fred and George blinked down at me. It must have been a pitiful sight. Me curled into a ball with George’s pillow being squished against my chest. “Holls?” Fred asked after a look was exchanged between them. 

Stiffly, I sat up; releasing George’s pillow as I rubbed my eyes and sniffled. They ached, my eyes, and rubbing at them left the skin feeling irritated. “Pucey knows”, I said, voice hoarse. “He figured it out. That it had been a legilimency attack. That I remember a past life. It’s why he invited me to Hogsmeade. Not to turn down Stimpson. At least… Not entirely”. 

Fred and George moved before I finished explaining. Fred climbed over me to get to the other side while George squooshed me until he could fit on the edge of the opposite side. Of course, three people on a twin-sized bed meant that I ended up more on top of them than resting side-by-side. 

“He got me alone. And at the Shrieking Shack, Pucey said something about learning occulumency and... And... how I was good at acting like a schoolgirl!”

“You are a schoolgirl”, said George as he and Fred each wrapped an arm around me. 

“I felt like I was on display, or… or something peculiar to read about in a healer’s textbook. What’s going to happen? When the whole school finds out? No one’s going to want me here. Or maybe the muggle studies professor can use me as a case study”. 

An ugly, wet laugh escaped me as I turned my head and buried it into Fred’s shoulder. George started combing my hair with his fingers, removing the pink deerstalker to do so, and Fred rubbed circles on my shoulder. “Now certain purebloods really can claim that muggles are stealing magic”. 

“Remember what Dumbledore said?” Asked George. “He told Mum you couldn’t be forced to talk about your past life. Said there were laws against it”. 

“Maybe people will figure out that you were reincarnated, but you don’t have to tell them you were a muggle. Not that it matters”. 

“And Fred and I aren’t going to let anyone touch you. Neither will Mum and Dad”. 

“Imagine Mum storming the school or wherever you are if anyone even tried. Heads would be sent flying as if they were bludgers”, said Fred; trying to create levity.  

“I thought he liked me. I felt… normal when we were together. Like I could actually be like any other witch. But Pucey… I guess he thought I was strange from the start”. 

“Here, Jolly Holly”, Fred said as he pushed me off his shoulder and retracted his arm to go digging in his pocket instead. “Have a sugar quill. Breath for a minute”. George didn’t stop his attentions as I found a sweet being shoved into my hands. My shoulder rose and fell from one lone inhale and exhale as I found myself sucking on the soft strands of sugar despite myself. 

“It’s Pucey’s loss at any rate. You’re bloody brilliant”, said George. 

“You have to say that”, I mumbled; staring down at my lap. 

“I mean it”. 

“How many witches our age can break into Filch’s office, pillage his filing cabinet of contraband, and sneak out without getting caught?”

“And you did that as a first year!” 

Shaking my head, I slumped against George this time. “You can cook as good as Mum. You master charms faster than anyone else in our year”, continued Fred. 

George gave me a little shake. “Not to mention, you’re the best decoy we have in are arsenal. Way better than Lee. Sometimes McGonagall actually believes you when you tell her that you don’t know where we are”. 

“We won’t be able to expose Scabbers without you. So, focus on that and… forget about Pucey”. 

“And if that manky git says anything about you or does something we don’t like, Fred and I will jinx him until he’s more discolored than old moldy cheese”. 

“We’ll transfigure him into a piñata and let the first years have a go”. 

“Or maybe we’ll stuff him down a toilet”. 

“And we’ll do the same to anyone who says you don’t belong here. We’ll get Ron and Lee to help. So, you can keep your hands clean. Percy might even look the other way. When we told him why we were doing it”. 

“You let us worry about Pucey”, said Fred; staring angrily into my eyes. But I knew he felt that on my behalf. “And you focus on how our family will survive the next seven years. We need you, Holls. Always will”. 

Letting out a lungful of air, I sat up straight. Or as much as I could while half-sitting on top of my fellow triplets. It wasn’t what I wanted. This didn’t feel resolved. But… “Let’s eat in the kitchens tonight, and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about for our transfiguration project”. 

As October progressed, so did the plot to ruin Scabber’s disguise. It took some needling, but we convinced a seventh year to lend us his transfiguration text for an evening. Inside its pages were instructions on a spell I remembered from The Prisoner of Azkaban. The reversal spell; designed to force an animagus into his or her human form.

Let’s see Scabbers try to weasel his way to safety after being exposed to our entire transfiguration class. 

The only problem was that it was a non-verbal spell. Non-verbal casting wasn’t something we'd learn until sixth-year defense. But now we were motivated to master it independently three years earlier than the curriculum demanded. A daunting task to be sure. 

With Lee along for the ride, most evenings were now spent in an empty classroom to practice the spell on captured insects we found during herbology. Of course, none of the insects were transformed. But we decided that if we managed to create a blue light around our target, as was described in the borrowed textbook, then we were doing it right. Besides, if we failed to do it right in class, maybe McGonagall could be convinced to give a proper demonstration.

In the days following the ever-so-eventful Hogsmeade trip, Fred, George, and I didn’t utter a word about Pucey. But he was not forgotten. And I couldn’t entirely ignore him either.

Potions class had changed from something I enjoyed to an awkward affair. Always with Fred and George burning holes into our backs from the other end of the classroom, Pucey and I brewed our potions with one-sided silence. I crushed roots into a fine powder, sliced rat spleens, and simmered draughts at low heat without uttering a word. Pucey, however; tended to repeat the same things each class. “Weasley, if you would only listen”, or “You’ve misunderstood”, and “I will not tell a soul”. 

And… he hadn’t. As far as we could tell. Whispers didn’t follow me in the hallways. I didn’t get any weird looks. Well… Weirder than normal. The impenetrable hats were still an eyesore. No one said anything, and I felt safe in assuming, in Hogwarts, only Pucey, my brothers, Dumbledore, and a handful of teachers knew. Er… and Harry. Since I had kind of blurted it out in front of him. 

In arithmancy class, however, there were no Fred and George to make Pucey feel uncomfortable. On Thursday, Halloween, right before lunch, I sat in Professor Vector's classroom. My favorite seat had been available when I entered. The one that allowed me to watch the sky during slow moments. 

Pucey took it as an opportunity to claim the adjacent desk. “Weasley”, he greeted; letting his book bag drop to the stone floor. When I said nothing, Pucey ran a frustrated hand over his face. “This can’t go on forever”, he decided; glaring.

I glared right back. 

“Thing one and thing two told you not to talk to me, didn’t they?” 

Silence. 

“Here’s a novel idea. Perhaps think for yourself of a change!”

My magic bubbled under my skin as I turned away with a sharp motion. Returning to staring out the window at the clouds that were starting to form. 

Pucey sighed and suppressed some of his annoyance. “No, I didn’t mean that…. Just let me explain. You ran off before I could… And I was serious about occulumency. Wouldn’t it be better if-” 

Professor Vector strolled to the front of the classroom. Clapping her hands, she ended all chatter before Adrian could go on. "Alright, boys and girls. Let’s continue our lecture on the magical properties of the number seven". She said. The chalk had already started writing on the blackboard. 

When classes were over for the day, I got to push Pucey to the back of my mind and focus on tonight’s agenda. Fred, George, and I had been discussing it for days. Like many of our classmates, Halloween was something worth discussing. But we weren’t wasting words on sweets, or wondering about the decoration. Or rather or not the dancing skeletons would make another appearance. 

"Do we do nothing again?" I asked as the three of us lounged around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. George sat in one of the armchairs, his left side nearest to the fire. He's reclined and sprawled out in the chair as if he had just run a marathon. Apparently, a niffler in Care of Magical Creatures class had given him a run for his money. 

Meanwhile, Fred and I lay on the floor perpendicular to each other. I had my bare feet pointed towards the fire and my head resting on Fred's stomach as if it were a pillow. It felt nice, having my toes warmed by a fire. Well worth kicking off my shoes and pulling off my socks.

Percy didn't agree. I could tell by the scandalized look he bore whenever he walked by. Apparently, Ron hadn’t kept quiet about the state he and Harry had found me in. And I was getting a little more leeway than normal. 

In an absent-minded way, Fred played with my hair. Probably knotting it for me to brush out later. But at my question, he stopped. 

"No!" My fellow triplets exclaimed incredulously, and at the same time. 

I squinted my eyes. "No?"

"Merlin, Holly", George said; making it sound as if I were completely heartless. 

"That's our baby brother we're talking about". Fred added.

"We're not going to let him face a troll," George said in a lower voice so that the other Gryffindors wouldn't overhear. "Not when he only knows two or three spells".

"One of those spells being Lumos. Ickle Ronniekins could actually get hurt".

"You two didn't want to interfere the last time," I said; trying to defend myself.

"Holls," George said sharply as if I was missing a major point. George fixed his posture and held his hands palms down and parallel to each other. "Three-headed dog," George said, lowering his left hand below his right hand. "Troll," he said, raising his right hand even higher. "Three-headed dog," he said again. "Troll", He emphasized. As if Fluffy was any less dangerous than a troll. Both could kill a first-year easily. 

Scoffing, I looked away. “So what should we do then?” 

Fred lightly tugged on my hair; checking. "You said this Halloween was important?" 

"Yeah," I answered, rolling my head so I was looking straight up at the ceiling. "The troll brings Harry, Ron, and Hermione together. They're supposed to become friends afterwards".

"So, we can't stop Ron and Harry from encountering the troll". George concludes.

"And we can't get Hermione out of that bathroom to avoid the troll either". I reasoned.

Fred shifted from under me. I can empathize that it is rather hard to get comfortable when there is a ten-pound head resting on your diaphragm. But like the good sister that I am, I don't move. Not even an inch. "Which means we're going to have to follow Ron and Harry," Fred decided.

We make the executive decision to head to dinner as early as possible. The Halloween feast has always been a favorite of ours. Who, other than Snape, doesn't love mounds and mounds of tooth-rotting goodness? Also, we felt it unwise to fight a mountain troll on empty stomachs. 

Throughout the meal, we took turns keeping an eye on Ron and Harry. A necessary precaution since I couldn't remember which bathroom the troll ended up in. In my defense, Hogwarts has a lot of bathrooms. But Fred had the Marauder's map tucked into his robe pocket in case we lost them.

I was munching on a slice of carrot cake it started. "Troll in the dungeons!" A flash of purple darted down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. I dropped my fork as Fred and George quickly swallowed whatever food they had in their mouths at the time. 

"Troll in the dungeons!" Quirrell yelled out in his most horrified voice as he came to a halt in the middle of the aisle. The entire hall had gone silent at his announcement. Every pair of human eyes in the school was on Quirrell. 

"I thought you should know," he said in a quieter voice as he staggered on his feet. A second later, he was falling face-first onto the floor. As the student body erupted into a roar of blood-curdling screams, I pondered what would’ve happened if Quirrell had fallen backward. Would You-Know-Who have been concussed?

Amongst all the panic, Dumbledore stood. "Silence!" He roared, his voice magically enhanced to reach all corners of the hall. However, he returned to soft and gentle tones once the student body had stilled. 

“Prefects will lead their houses to their dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons". 

At once, everyone started to move. Fred grabbed my hand, and I grabbed George's. At the same moment, Lee found us in the crowd, and we all headed for the exit together. Percy could be heard overhead as he tried to round up the Gryffindor first years. Our house reached the grand staircase before Ron and Harry realized Hermione was missing. The moment they split from the other first years, Fred took the lead; tugging us after them. 

"Wait!" Lee called after us. "Where are you going?"

"We have to get our brother!" George yelled over his shoulder, right before we disappeared down one of the first-floor corridors.

The smashing of porcelain and terrified screams reached our ears before the girls’ bathroom came within view. We turned a corner just in time to see the tail end of Ron's robe disappear into the bathroom. Still holding hands, the three of us hurried forward. "Hermione, move!" Harry yelled right before we charged through the door.

Fred released my hand, and I did the same with George’s. In sync, we drew our wands from our robe pockets. Although… Probably something we should have done before entering the bathroom. 

"Help", Hermione cried as she huddled under one of the few sinks that were still standing. "Please, help me!"

Grabbing Harry by his shoulders, George hauled him behind us. “We’ll handle it”, he assured the Boy-Who-Lived once Harry had his back pressed against the wall.

Harry wasn’t given time to protest as Fred lunged for Ron. Our little brother hadn’t noticed our entrance. He was too busy picking up bits of wood from the destroyed bathroom stalls and hurling them at the troll’s head. “Oy! Pea brain!” He shouted as a last-ditch effort to get the troll to forget about Hermione. 

As the troll turned in are direction, grunting at the effort, Fred used his left arm to catch Ron around his chest and drag him back. Unceremoniously, Ron was shoved behind us. Leaving Harry to catch him and keep him from falling completely. It was better to land in a puddle of toilet water than to get your head bashed in by a troll. 

"Stay there!" Fred barked at Ron as I took a small step forward. 

My wand raised, I didn’t blink. Tracing a straight line with my wand, I shouted “Impedimenta”. A turquoise light shot out and engulfed the troll; slowing its bumbling steps to the speed of a snail. Something as big and heavy as a troll wouldn’t be frozen by such a spell, but it was enough to buy more time. 

"Hermione!" I called to the petrified girl. “We’ll have to push the troll back. But we can’t control what direction he’ll fall. As soon as we finish casting, run straight to us!”

Hermione looked up from under the sink as she clutched her frizzy hair like it was a helmet. But she nodded once; eyes comprehending. The Troll was closer now. Its speed slowly quickening as my spell wore off. Watching it raise its club felt like the slow motion of a horror movie. 

Fred and George drew up beside me. Their wands raised in a stance that matched my own. "Knockback jinx on three", George suggested. 

Fred and I nodded; counting silently before shouting, “Flipendo!” We drew checkmarks in the air and bursts of yellow erupted from our wands. Hermione darted forward. She didn’t hesitate to watch as the light rammed into the troll’s torso. Without being told, Hermione maneuvered around Fred and joined her fellow first years. 

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as the troll stumbled backward, club flailing in the air. But the beast didn't fully lose its balance. At the last moment, before it would have toppled over, the troll finds its footing.

"What now?" Fred asked. 

The troll stood up to its full height. It tightened its grip on its club. While the troll's other hand curled into a giant, meaty fist. Eyes aflame in fury, the troll let out a roar that shook the room. Its saliva flew out of its mouth and smacked all of us in the face. 

Ugh! Disgusting. But there's no time to wipe it away. "Maybe depulso", I suggested.

"On something that heavy?" Fred countered.

"Maybe if we hit him in the eye", George said, as the Troll took a step forward, its club swung high over its head.

"We need to contain it!” I panicked while rejecting the temptation to try Wingardium Leviosa on the club like how Ron had done in the books. There’s no way I’d manage such a lucky shot. 

"I got an idea!"  Fred yelled. He stepped in front of George and me as the troll started swinging his club down at an alarming speed. "Ebublio!" Fred drew a big circle in the air with his wand. A blue sphere started to form in front of Fred before it fired off in the direction of the troll. 

The troll gave one last angry roar before he was silenced. Encased by Fred's giant bubble spell, we could no longer hear the beast. Floating a couple of feet up in the air, all the troll could do was pound on the inside of the bubble. However, nothing would burst the bubble. Not until the jinx wore off.

Unfortunately, the troll's club was not in the bubble with him. "Fred! Watch out!" George cried. My head snapped up to see the club cartwheeling in the air, heading straight for Fred. 

"Fred!" I screeched.

"Move, Fred! Move!" Ron yelled from the back.

I was pushed aside as a figure shoved between George and me. I found myself locking in on the back of a Slytherin school robe as the new person traced an arch in the air with a tight flick of his wrist. “Accio Fred Weasley!” 

Fred’s whole body jerked backward. The heels of his shoes squeaked against the bathroom floor. The club missed him by centimeters; clattering against the bathroom floor and denting the tile as it fell.  

The force of the spell caused Fred to collide with the summoners. Seeing as Fred was too big to catch, the two of them toppled to the ground in an undignified heap. Silence filled the bathroom as everyone took a moment to process and catch their breath.

"Fred!" I moved first. Dropping to my knees to pull Fred into a hug. "Are you alright?" 

Fred's arms slowly embraced my middle. "I'm alright, Holly," Fred promised in his most serious voice. He squeezed me as hard as he could as if ensuring himself of that very fact. "I'm alright".

"Oh! Oh, my..." McGonagall entered the bathroom before anyone could say anything else. Snape and Quirrell followed after her; taking in the scene of seven students and a troll stuck in a bubble.

Fred and I pulled ourselves up off the bathroom floor; breaking our hug. Though Fred left one arm wrapped around my waist. George had moved to Ron and friends. He had our little brother snuggly tucked under his arm while Hermione clung to the sleeve of his other arm like static cling. Harry stood close to Ron’s side; looking a bit pale. There was no free arm to shelter him under, so Harry had to settle for whatever words of reassurance we could offer. 

McGonagall's shock quickly changed to anger as she stared at us all. Quirrell looked absolutely horrified. Fake or otherwise, it was the complete opposite of Snape’s livid expression. His eyes were fixated on the lone Slytherin who had jumped in at the last minute. Pucey. Because, of course, it had to be him.

Having returned to his feet, Pucey held his wand loosely in his hand; rolling his shoulder as it hurt. His eyes didn’t back down from Snape’s stare. In fact, Pucey was returning it; unrepentant.

"Explain yourselves immediately!" McGonagall demanded.

Fred, George, and I started a triangle of looks, asking each other who wanted to face our head's fury. "Pucey, speak up", Snape ordered before we could come to a decision.

At the sound of disapproval dripping from Snape’s voice, Pucey’s spine turned rigid. "When we were leaving the great hall, I noticed the Weasleys leaving their housemates. One of them mentioned collecting their younger brother, and I decided to go after them. Since I consider Miss Weasley to be a friend”. 

Fred’s arm snaked tighter around my waist as Pcuey continued. “When I caught up, they had already found their brother and the troll. Weasley had already used the ebulblio jinx when I entered. I had just enough time to get him out of the way before the troll’s club hit him. However, I don’t know what happened before”. Pucey made the appropriate gestures as he talked. Waving at Fred so the teachers knew which Weasley he was referring to, and pointing to the club to provide evidence. 

McGonagall directed a demanding stare at Fred and me. However, before either of us could open our mouths, Hermione stepped forward. "It's my fault. I went looking for the troll. I thought I could handle it". She seemed not to mind that the teachers were getting a good look at her sniffling nose and puffy eyes. She lied as she made eye contact with McGonagall. 

"But it would have killed me if Harry and Ron hadn't come in. It would have killed Ron and Harry if Ron's brothers and sister hadn't followed them. They made Ron and Harry stay behind them and used magic to push the troll back so I could get out of the way”. Hermione bowed her head; staring guiltily at her feet. 

"That was an abhorrent display of judgement!” McGonagall scolded. Her face was scary enough that everyone had the instinct to look directly at her. Though it was a bit of a cerebral experience; watching someone else be on the receiving end. “Miss Granger, I expected more from you. Five points from Gryffindor”. 

There was no protesting from Hermione. She remained cowed as McGonagall turned to the rest of us. “I hope you realize how fortunate you are for coming away from this uninjured. Five points will be awarded to each of you for quick thinking and working together". McGonagall took her time to look at all of us individually before she settled on Pucey. The only one who looked out of place. 

"Now, return to your dormitories at once", she ordered; ushering the first-years out of the bathroom and away from the troll. Snape followed with a slight limp in his step as George rejoined us. He fell into place against Fred’s other side and exited the bathroom after Snape. Pucey followed close behind. 

Quirrell was left to deal with the entrapped troll. Which probably wasn’t a good idea… But what can we do about it?

No one said a word until we reached the base of the grand staircase; Needing to make sure McGonagall, Snape, and the others weren’t anywhere close to overhearing. When we were ready, Fred took the lead. “Thanks. But Why?” His words were spat out tersely.  

Unimpressed, Pucey stared back with a stormy look to his grey pupils. “I haven’t said anything about your sister’s reincarnation. I wanted to talk to her about it. But evidently, I need to go through you two to do so. Does fighting a troll prove that I’m speaking in earnest? Will you give me a chance to explain now?” 

Everything Pucey said was aimed only at Fred and George. I lowered my gaze to my shoes; feeling a strange mixture of shame and annoyance. I’m not sure Fred and George noticed as they exchanged a look over my head.

"No”, Fred and George said in perfect harmony. It felt jarring. For more reasons than how Fred turned us around immediately after, George in step on Fred’s other side. 

“What state do you think prefect Percy will be in when we reach the common room?” Fred asked. The Slytherin we left behind was completely forgotten. 

I strained my neck to look over my shoulder. “Ron went up first. Percy might tire himself out yelling at him. But he’ll probably write Mum”, Said George. Pucey remained at the bottom of the stairs. Head tilted back to watch us walk away from him. His eyes had narrowed into slits as rage masked rejection. 

I faced forward. Suddenly clinging to Fred as he had to me while I tried not to think about knives and dirt floors. “Merlin”, Fred complained. “An earful from Percy and Mum. I hope she doesn’t send a howler”.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor

Hands gripped my shoulders; pressing me flat as someone straddled my waist. A shadowed face loomed over my own. It was too dark to make out discernible features. Though I carried a sense that such details didn’t matter. 

I kicked and tried to arch my back. Anything to get my feet flat against the ground. Maybe, with the right leverage, I could push him off. But… it had been the wrong night to wear heels. Releasing one of my shoulders, I was struck across the face before I could find any success.  

"Stop fighting me!" My assailant reached to the side; picking up a large butcher’s knife by its handle. “This is your fault! You did it to yourself!” 

"Stop!" I cried, vision blurred by tears as the knife was poised over me. "It wasn't me. I didn’t say anything! Please, I didn’t tell anyone". 

The knife plunged downward, piercing my stomach, searing hot pain engulfed me, and I started gasping as air escaped me. The moment the person pulled the knife out, blood spurted out of me like a fountain with low water pressure. There was no respite before the person stabbed again. And again. And again.

I bolted upright in bed. The word 'stop' silently formed in my mouth. Little beads of sweat ran down the sides of my face, leaving sticky trails as I laboriously inhaled and exhaled. My right hand left the warmth of my blankets to slide under my nightshirt. My breathing started to calm as I felt the skin of my abdomen. No blood. No gaping wounds. There weren’t even any scars. 

Looking to my left,  Angelina and Alicia blissfully slept in their beds. On my right, my other roommates did the same. I was in the Gryffindor dormitories. In the dorms where there weren't any dirt floors. Jessie is dead. Jessie is dead, and I am Holly. Holly who is currently in a safe place.

Despite the mantra, thirteen years of experience told me there’d be no settling back down. Climbing out of bed, I tiptoed out of the room. Not bothering with slippers or dressing gowns. None of my roommates stirred as I shuffled past and opened the door. And they haven’t been disturbed by my nighttime wanderings since our first year. 

Gryffindor common room was empty, and the fire was reduced to smoldering ash. After one sweep of the room, I didn’t linger; heading for the boys’ staircase. I'd been doing so well. The two months of school had passed without one nightmare. As I headed for Fred and George’s dorm, I wondered if they had noticed. 

Conditioned just like the girls in my dorm, Lee and the other roommates didn’t wake as I slipped inside and made a beeline for my brothers. As usual, Fred was sprawled out on his stomach, so I chose George's bed. He didn’t wake as I climbed under his covers. And in a way, that was preferable. More reassuring. As if their slumber is proof that everything is fine. The world would still spin, and the ground wouldn’t crumble out from under me. I didn't go back to sleep. I didn't even try. I rarely could. 

Which left nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling and think. Tomorrow… or today, really. The quidditch match of the season was scheduled. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Always a crowd favorite. If only because the school might catch glimpses of Snape and McGonagall's competitiveness butting heads. 

Quirrell would try to throw Harry from his broom. Hermione would set Snape on fire. We had thought of a plan; Fred, George, and I. And I didn’t have a part to play at all. As a non-member of Gryffindor’s quidditch team, there was nothing for me to do except sit in the stands as another spectator. It’s one of the reasons why I told Fred and George. One person couldn’t be everywhere at once. But… for some reason, there was an uncomfortable feeling sitting heavily in my stomach. 

They had said no to Pucey without pause. We hadn’t talked about it after returning to the common room. They never asked me. What I thought. What I felt. And it hadn’t been brought up in the days that followed. 

Potions class had turned into a curt and oppressive affair. And not because of Snape’s winning personality. Likewise, Arithmancy was... now lacking side conversation. Rolling on my side, back facing George, I rested a hand against my stomach; trying to rub away the ache.  

"Welcome to the first quidditch game of the season", Lee's voice echoed across the entire pitch as he yelled into the magical sound system from the teachers' seating.

Sitting by my lonesome amongst the students, I watched as my brothers and my friends entered the pitch. Zooming on their brooms and up in the air to the sounds of hooting and cheering. It was painfully easy to spot Fred and George. Not because of their red hair. But because of the red and blue deerstalkers on top of their heads. How they ever got Wood to let them wear them, I'll never know. 

From the stands, Gryffindors did their best to drown out the Slytherins as Madam Hooch set free the bludgers and released the golden snitch. Sitting quietly, my fingers found a loose thread on my jumper to play with. There was only a brief pause. Intended to allow the bludgers and snitch to disperse before Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle into the air. 

Immediately, the chasers took off to the roars and screams of their admirers as they fought to be the first team to retrieve the ball. Alicia reached it first. Her arm stretched out to catch it, but Flint flew straight across her path; forcing her to yield to save her broom from colliding handle-first into Flint. Not that she minded playing rough. But a broken broom at the start of the match was a bad play. 

Watching the chasers, no one noticed the keepers as they hurried for the goal posts, the seekers as they started circling the pitch, or the beaters who were searching for the bludgers. With Katie blocked by Slytherin’s third chaser, Pucey swooped in to snatch the quaffle out of the air with Angelina hot on his tail. 

Letting out a huff, I scanned the students surrounding me. Ron and Hermione weren’t in sight. Not that it was surprising. If I had to guess, they’d be on the opposite side of the pitch where I could make out the towering form of Hagrid. 

Quidditch. I never managed to appreciate it like most of my family. It was something Percy and I had in common. During a quidditch match, before becoming a prefect (because now Percy had to help with crowd control), Percy would take advantage of an empty castle. Be that having the common room to himself or accessing the library. I’ve thought about joining him. But during our first year, Fred and George dragged me to every match. And I felt obligated to attend the matches that followed. Between my brothers, Angelina and Alicia, and Lee’s commentary, there were too many people to keep happy. 

"And the quaffle is stolen by Angelina Johnson", Lee roared as he gave a play-by-play of the game. "What an amazing chaser Angelina is, and she's rather attractive too-".

"JORDAN!" McGonagall's disapproval reached all corners of the pitch.

"Sorry, Professor", Lee is quick to say. "Just stating a fact".

Pucey had already turned his broom about before Lee finished taking. He made a gesture with his hand. One that sent Flint flying to intercept Katie as Pucey lay flat on his broom to chase after Angelina. Quickly jerking his broom out of the way when George sent a bludger hurtling in his direction. Why did he have to figure it out? About my past life? 

"Slytherin takes possession of the quaffle!" Lee declared when Pucey pulled up close and high enough to kick the quaffle out of Angelina’s grip. It was only airborne for seconds before Flint retrieved it and maddly flew away from Slytherin’s goal posts. The three Slytherin chasers appeared to regroup in a formation as they rolled, dodged, and performed feints to avoid bludgers and Gryffindor chasers. 

The quaffle changed hands multiple times. Arching over open air and caught before it could be intercepted by Katie, Angelina, or Alicia. As they flew closer and closer to Wood and Gryffindor’s goal posts, Pucey ended up with the quaffle. An aerial roll spared him from a bludgered smacked into his path by Fred. Pucey lined up his shot for the lower left post and threw the ball. Only for Wood to fly into focus and bat it away at the last possible moment. 

And the troll for Halloween. There was no reason for Pucey to get involved. There was nothing for him to gain from saving Fred.  

The quaffle spent a short time in Katie’s hands before Flint and the third Slytherin chaser caged her with their brooms. Unable to turn and one of the stands quickly approaching, the only thing Katie could do was drop the quaffle. Freeing her to grip her broom handle with both hands and pull up. Naturally, Pucey was just below to catch the quaffle before it could be saved. 

I covered my face with my hands to keep my frustration private as Lee announced that Slytherin had just scored. I wanted my potions partner back. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity about Pucey and what he was playing at. It would be best for Holly if her life weren’t limited because of Jessie’s past. But most importantly, I didn’t want to repeat bleeding out on a dirt floor… Fred and George were probably right.  

“What’s he doing?” A boy to my left mumbled as horrified gasps filled my ears. It was enough of a reason to pick my head up out of my hands.

In the center of the pitch, very high up from the ground, Harry dangled from his broomstick. His legs swung in different directions as the broomstick jerked up, right, left, and down; trying to dislodge its rider. My eyes lingered on Harry for only a moment before scanning the sky for Fred and George. 

I thought they should fly above Harry’s broom. Slowly lowering and forcing Harry’s broom closer to the ground. However, Fred and George wanted to catch Harry. So… that's what they did. Circling under him, Fred and George flew with their heads tilted in Harry’s direction. Each was ready to react as soon as Harry’s fingers slipped. 

However, the problem resolved itself before intervention was needed. Or so it would appear to most. As Harry hauled himself back onto his broom; nodding reassuringly to Fred and George, my eyes wandered over to the teachers’ section. They were a frazzled bunch; all huddled around something or someone I was too far to see. Even Lee had stopped his commentary. Distracted by whatever had happened behind him. 

The match resumed, and soon the spectators seemed to have forgotten about Harry’s near fall. 

Pucey scored another ten points for Slytherin. And Alicia did the same for Gryffindor before Harry caught the snitch; leaving Higgs in the dust during the process. It happened exactly as I remembered. Harry did try to stand on his broom. Naturally, he toppled off. And the snitch was caught in his mouth. Something Lee had a lot of fun with as the Gryffindor team swarmed their youngest player amongst a sea of cheering spectators. 

The older students knew that as soon as a match ends, it's time to book it for the castle. In an effort not to be impeded by the foot traffic and natural slowdowns that come with walking in a large group. 

I usually stayed behind. Lounging in the stands for them to clear a bit before climbing down to wait with Lee for the others. While watching a game wasn’t something I enjoyed, the aftermath of a match was fun. If Gryffindor won, that is to say. Winning a quidditch match meant pilfering butter beer and sweets from the kitchen, our prefects tended to look the other way, and the common room would be filled with high spirits and loud music for an evening. 

However, I found myself taking a detour. The quidditch pitch had two locker rooms. Instead of heading for the one Gryffindor had utilized for the match, I walked to the one that was directly opposite it. 

Waiting outside, I crossed my arms and glanced around at the surrounding trees. It made sense that the quidditch pitch had to be so far from the castle. Otherwise, every window would get broken multiple times a year by lost bludgers and overzealous quaffle throws. But it did make the walk back to the castle a cold and slightly haunting one. Especially if you did it alone. Hopefully, the Slytherins wouldn’t try to mourn their loss by drowning in the showers. 

As it were, Flint was the first to exit the locker room. He had changed out of his quidditch robes and wore a casual set of weekend robes; smelling as if he should’ve stayed under the spray of a shower head for a few minutes longer. 

For a short moment, Flint was still. His beady little eyes traveled up and down my frame to hide any surprise at the random Gryffindor who was dumb enough to be caught alone outside their locker room. When it wore off, his upper lip curled back; revealing disgusting, yellowed bucked teeth. 

“Oy! Pucey! Company here for you”. Flint shouted over his shoulder. Then, Flint turned and started up the path that would take him to the castle. There was no insult or demanding question. He didn’t look back once. 

Before I could puzzle over that, Pucey appeared. Like his captain, he wore the casual dress that we were permitted on weekends. Although, for Pucey, that meant slacks and a cashmere jumper. 

If Pucey was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. Instead, a steely edge shone brightly behind his eyes as his jaw clenched. Without saying a word, I took a few steps away from the locker room. Not too far, but enough that other Slytherins wouldn’t be able to snoop without being caught. With some hesitation, Pucey followed. 

The sun was lower in the sky. Casting the quidditch pitch in an orange glow when I faced him once again. Pucey stopped walking; keeping a comfortable distance between us as his arms were held still at his sides. His hands were flat against the legs of his slacks. 

“I don’t want to talk about my past life”. 

Pucey wrinkled his forehead. “Alright”. 

“If you ask questions, I won’t answer them”. 

His nostrils flared. “Then I won’t ask”. 

“You said you could teach me occulumency. How do you know it?” 

Pucey stared me down. It was a stare I did my best to match. “My mother felt it prudent”, he answered; leaving his answer vague. 

“Would you need to use Legilimency to teach me?” 

“No”. If anything, Pucey seemed taken aback by the questions. His jaw muscles softened as his eyes widened marginally. “That method is considered archaic. Besides, it would only cause you to…” Trailing off, Pucey waved a hand in my direction. 

It would be counterproductive. I summarized. I couldn’t learn occulumency if every lesson resulted in my having a fit on the floor.  “On Tuesdays and Thursdays, after our arithmancy class but before dinner, Fred and George will be at quidditch practice. You can teach me occlumency then”. Pucey had lost the steely edge in his eyes. Instead, I was being analyzed under a searching stare. “ See you in Potions”. I ended the conversation, showed Pucey my back, and started for the other locker room. Like Flint, I never looked back. Unlike Flint, I picked up my feet and started running as soon as I was too far away for Pucey to see.  

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Empty Rooms

It was never difficult to find an empty room in Hogwarts. A castle this size with a student population under three hundred, there were rooms that the school frankly didn’t know what to do with. Not that there weren’t challenges. Unoccupied rooms were frequently used for storage. And there was always the risk of encountering a boggart or discovering a doxy infestation if you started snooping. On top of that, Hogwarts was a magical castle. Meaning you stumble across a room one day and never find it ever again. 

“Weasley”, Pucey sighed as he trailed behind me down the corridor. “Just pick a room”. 

We had gone down a few floors after arithmancy had concluded for the day. Now, in the same corridor that housed Professor Binns’ haunt, I was poking my head through doors to appraise all our options. 

The room I was looking at now was completely empty except for a full-length mirror with a sheet draped over it. “Nope”, I announced, snapping the door shut and moving on without further explanation. 

“We could’ve started already if you had thought ahead”. 

Pausing in front of a door, my hand hovering over the handle, I gave Pucey a look. “Why was finding a location my job? You’re the teacher. What if you needed a specific type of space to teach occulumency? I wouldn’t know a thing like that”. 

Pucey’s jaw was held uncomfortably. As if grinding his teeth. “Because if you picked where we’ll be practicing, I can’t be accused of taking you to an isolated location”. 

“Oh, how thoughtful of you. I feel so much safer already”. I didn’t get to see Pucey’s response to my sarcasm as I opened the door. This room was dusty. I could see little particles as they flew past the afternoon sun that shone through three different windows. 

“This one will do”, I said; entering first and pushing the door open for Pucey to follow. “There’s just a bunch of old student desks in here. Nowhere for a boggart to hide”. 

Pucey closed the door behind him as I pulled out my wand and cast a quick scouring charm on the desk that sat closest to the windows. Once satisfied that it was free of dust, I put my book bag on top before sitting next to it. 

The desk directly parallel to mine received the same treatment. Except Pucey elected to use a chair. "I can only teach the basics”, Pucey jumped right in. He sat with his feet firmly planted on the floor and his hands laid flat in front of him. “I’m still learning myself. What is taught to me, I can pass along to you”. 

“Who’s teaching you?” I asked; leaning forward to prop my chin in my hand. “And for how long?” 

Pucey’s shoulders rose and fell. “My uncle. Mother asked him for lessons after my eleventh birthday”. 

Humming as I thought, I let Pucey stare as he waited. It was unwise to practice magic any earlier than an eleventh birthday. There was too much risk in damaging an underdeveloped core. Especially when accidental magic could occur at any upset and drain a core further. Still… “That’s a long time to be learning the basics”. 

Exasperation invaded Pucey’s face as he shook his head at me. “Occulemency is an obscure, precise branch of magic. It’ll take a lifetime to master and even then success is unlikely.  Now, if you’re done mocking me, I’ll tell you what I know”. 

Waving a hand a Pucey as a sign to continue, I tried not to smile. This… this felt normal. Almost as if Hogsmeade had never happened. 

“Occulumency is the art of shielding your mind from magical attacks. You have to separate yourself from outside influences. Recognize what is organically you and control it. My uncle described it as a cycle. Thoughts can impact your emotions, which can change your concentration. An imbalance in any of these areas can make occulumency impossible. To protect your mind, you have to regulate your emotions, silence your thoughts, and focus.”. 

“...Yeah, I’m going to be complete rubbish at this”. Pucey scoffed; lowering his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. I took that as permission to keep going. “I mean, you just described the complete opposite of me”. 

When Pucey looked up, he was accompanied by a very pointed look. “To start, close your eyes and try to think of nothing”. 

I wrinkled my nose. “How can I think of nothing if I’m thinking about nothing?”

“Weasley-”

“The only way to not think is to be unconscious. Or so blitzed out of your mind that-”

“Have you ever been half asleep and half awake? You’re aware that you exist, but there’s nothing to feel, and there are no words floating around your head? That’s the sensation you need to learn how to harness”. 

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes; blocking out Pucey’s pained expression as I let my mind drift. Mindfulness. Pucey wanted me to learn mindfulness. A part of me felt like scoffing. Who had come up with the term occulumency? Because I’m pretty sure mindfulness came from the East. 

I probably lasted about a minute, sitting on top of that desk. But with no clock and my eyes shut, it was impossible to tell. “What am I supposed to do once I’m no longer thinking?”

“Weasley, that was pathetic”. 

“I mean, what good is sitting still and not thinking while someone is attacking you? I can’t spend my whole life not thinking. I’d never get anything done”. 

“There are children who can concentrate longer than you can”. 

Opening my eyes, I stared at Pucey. He hadn’t moved from his desk. “How will I know if it’s working? Especially if I’m not thinking. If you can’t answer these questions, are you sure you can teach?” In all honesty, I wasn’t concerned about these new lessons not having any impact. The pink deerstalker on my head meant I had options.  

Pucey raised one unimpressed eyebrow. “Once you can manage that sensation I described, you can start thinking while occluding. How do you think people can have full conversations while occluding? No one just sits there brainless”. 

“But you said-”

Raising one hand to stop me, Pucey took several breaths. “I will search for a book that will explain it better. In the meantime, just practice”. 

With a small smile, I shrugged. “Sure. This is what I do during History of Magic, anyway. Say, what did you think about the ancient runes assignment? One foot of parchment wasn’t enough to replicate all the runes, annotate their properties, and write paragraphs to describe them”.

When the hour was open, Pucey and I left the classroom a little cleaner than how we had found it. “Again on Thursday?” Pucey asked. 

“Bring that book you mentioned”.

My fellow triplets, Lee, and I also needed an empty classroom. In the evenings, after dinner, it wasn’t uncommon for the four of us to be found in such a room; surrounding an old table with our wands drawn and our faces pinched. 

Holding our wands vertically in front of our noses, we’d squint our eyes and wrinkle our foreheads. Everyone’s focus was fixated on a scurrying, zigzagging beetle. Between quidditch practice and secret occulumency lessons, November had flown by, and the due date of our transfiguration project was quickly approaching. 

McGonagall had already come around and collected the names of the Gryffindors staying over the holidays. So, we knew that it was time to put the finishing touches on our presentation. Blue light, the kind of color that reminds me of a computer booting up, shined out of the tips of our wands. Resembling lasers, four beams of blue light converged on the beetle; engulfing it whole. The beetle levitated about a foot above the desk. It started to twitch and turn in the middle of the blue light, reminiscent of what I must have looked like when I was having a fit in Quirrell's class.

Seconds in, I start to feel the strain of the spell. Judging by the boys’ twitching eyebrows and the sweat dripping down the sides of their faces. My core tended to ache every time after we practiced. To the point that casting Lumos was a challenge. But there was no denying that the time between those aches was becoming longer and longer. 

As our concentration waned, the light beaming out of our wands started to flicker. Not long after, all blue glowing light vanished, and the beetle plopped back onto the table. Landing on its back and looking completely unchanged. Not that we were expecting anything to happen. It is, after all, an everyday beetle. 

"How long?" I asked, lowering my wand.

Panting, Lee lowered his wand and glanced down at his wristwatch. "About forty-five seconds".

Fred nodded; rolling the wrist of his wand hand as if casting had made it stiff. "We need to get it up to a minute. It will be more effective if we can hold it for at least a minute".

"Why?" Lee asked. "We're just using it as a visual aid. It's not like we actually have to force an animagus to turn back into human form".

In a moment of panic, my fellow triplets and I exchanged looks. What do we say? "Umm," I started, though no answer came to me.

George jumped in at the same second. "Exactly, it's a visual aid. If we can hold it for a full minute, that's one less minute we have to spend speaking".

"Yeah, I think if we can hold it longer, it will really impress McGonagall", I hurried to agree.

"We've been running short on presentation time anyway". Fred added, giving Lee what he thought was a confident look. Us Weasleys have many talents: a sense of humor, reasonably intelligent, and the ability to budget. Acting is not one of those talents.

"Alright". Lee drew out the word. He's been with us triplets long enough to know not to take the majority of the things we say at face value. But our deceptions do seem to amuse him. At least when the end results turn up to be humorous. "Go again?"

The three of us nodded; turning back to the beetle that had flipped itself back over and returned to scurrying over the tabletop. Lee led this round; raising his wand first. Just like last time, our faces scrunch up and our brows wrinkle. As if we've been holding our breath for too long. 

Before we stopped for the night, we practiced the reversal spell five more times. On our fifth attempt, we managed to hold it for fifty-five seconds. "Same time, same place tomorrow?" Lee asked as we set the beetle free and packed up.

"Yeah", George said as he shouldered his book bag. "There's no quidditch practice tomorrow".

"That way we can practice the spell a couple more times before the presentation," Fred said. "George and I are almost done with the essay".

Lee nodded as we headed for the door. "Everyone heading back to the common room?"

"I am," I said, as I opened the door. But I don't walk through it. Instead, I leaned against it to talk to my brothers and Lee. "I got a Little brother to see about borrowing his rat". Of course, borrowing was not the right word. 

But Fred shook his head. "Better go to the library then. I overheard Ron and his friends this morning. They've been spending a lot of time in the library as of late".

So, I guess I am going to the library then. "Fred? George? What about you?" Lee asked. "We could break out the exploding snap cards."

“Only if you’re ready to lose, mate”, George said with a smile. Exiting the unused classroom, I stayed with them until we reached the grand staircase. Splitting off to walk down the hall while they continued up the stairs. 

Some searching was required before I found Ron and company. I had to peer around the bookshelves and walk up to tables containing first-years to see if my younger brother was amongst them. But I finally found him sitting in the back corner of the library. He shared a book-covered table with Harry, and each looked like they wished to be elsewhere. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. Coming up behind Ron, I wrapped my arms over his neck and pulled him backward into a hug. 

At the contact, the boy immediately complained. "Get off!" Ron demanded; trying to shrug me off his person.

"No”. I hugged him tighter. From the other side of the table, Harry watched with a light expression. He smiled slightly as Ron made every feasible attempt to wiggle away from me. "I can't stop. I love you too much".

“Holly!” Ron sputtered in a strange combination of mortification and horror. From my place behind him, I watch Ron’s ears start to change color. Going from its normal pink fleshy color to a brilliant red that threatened to match his hair.

"What? Was that embarrassing?" I asked a very rhetorical question. In truth, I just couldn’t help myself. Ron made it too easy. "Don't be embarrassed. Harry knows I love you. Right, Harry?" 

Suddenly being dragged into the conversation, the bespectacled boy opened his mouth to respond as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

But I spared him before he was forced to take a side. “Besides, it’s impossible not to love your little brother when he is such a carrot top".

Ron lost the ability to form actual words. For several seconds, all he managed was random syllables. Harry covered his mouth with the sleeve of his robe as his shoulders shook. Such a nice friend Harry is. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't have attempted to subdue a laugh. 

This time, when Ron moved to shake me off, I allowed it. Releasing the hold I have around him, I fell into the bench seat beside my brother. Now able to see his face, my mouth stretched into a broad smile. He's so red that he really could pass as a carrot. 

"We have the same hair color!" Ron informed me; having regained the ability to speak. At his deeply offended scowl, I made sure Ron got a good look at my smile. I probably only have one more year of him being this cute. After that, he would turn into a surly teenager and become a lost cause. 

When I didn't answer him, Ron took on a distrustful expression. "What do you want?" He asked, shooting a warning look in Harry's direction. If anything, this was a signal to be on the lookout for Fred and George. As I often got cast in the role of decoy.

"I need to borrow Scabbers," I said; getting straight to the point.

"What? No", Was Ron's automatic answer.

"Please. We need an animal for a project in transfiguration, and Scabbers is the perfect size."

Ron looked horrified. "I'm not going to let you transfigure Scabbers!"

"Well, why not?" I asked. "Didn't you try to turn him yellow?" I looked in Harry's direction.  Upon receiving a confirming nod, I turned back to Ron in triumph.

"Yeah, but it was a dud of a spell that you gave me!" Ron retorted.

"I didn’t teach you that spell. Fred and George did”. 

“Same thing”. 

"Scabbers will be fine. McGonagall will make sure that nothing bad happens to him, and I'll make sure you get him back right after our class", I lied; having no intention of Ron setting eyes on that mass murderer ever again. Unfortunately, Ron still wasn’t convinced. So I had to up the ante. "If you let us borrow Scabbers, the next time there is a Hogsmeade weekend, I'll buy you whatever you want and whatever I can afford from Honeydukes or Zonkos".

Ron's face lit up as he licked his lips. "How much do you have?"

"Five galleons", I said honestly. I had been saving them through Christmas and birthday money. "I'll spend it all on you if you let us use Scabbers".

"Alright," Ron agreed after a moment of contemplation. "But you promise that nothing will happen to him?"

I give Ron a solemn nod. "He will be perfectly safe", I lied.

"When do you need him?"

Before answering, I stood up from the bench seat. "Friday. Can I take him before classes that morning?" Ron agreed with a quick incline of his head. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Weasley," I said in a prim voice. 

But Ron scoffed rather than joining in. I was quickly dismissed as Ron turned back to Harry and all the books they had suspiciously accumulated. Not caring and figuring it to be a problem for Madam Pince, I turned to go. However, as I walked away, Miss Granger joined them. 

"Can't believe I hadn't thought of this. I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading". 

Ah, yes. Nicolas Flamel. Good to know things were still on track.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Reversal Spell

Probably one of the best ways to learn appreciation for your teachers was to stand in front of a room filled with your peers and read out a bunch of facts they didn’t care to know. "Animagi will have similar features that carry over between their human and animal forms," George explained to the class. 

Meanwhile, I kept my eyes focused on Scabbers. As promised, Ron had handed him over during breakfast. Fred, George, and I had a jar all prepared for him. We wanted glass specifically. That way, Scabbers wouldn’t be able to chew his way to freedom. Like if we had put him in a shoe box or something. 

The jar lid had plenty of air holes. We, ourselves, wouldn't want to be convicted of murder. But layers and layers of spell-o-tape had been overzealously applied. Just to make sure there was no way for Scabbers to weasel himself out. 

"Like, if an animagus wears glasses, they may have marks around their eyes in their animal forms", Lee added as an example.

It's my line next. I forced myself to look away from the mass murderer in the jar. "It will be difficult, however; to spot an animagus in animal form if you don't already have an idea of what you should be looking for. Especially if you don't know what their animal form is."

My piece done, I looked back at Scabbers on McGonagall's desk. He had been calm all morning. Didn't even squirm when Ron handed him to me. Fred, George, and I had been careful about not mentioning the transfiguration project just in case he heard us. But now, after we’d been talking about animagi for several minutes, Scabbers had grown increasingly agitated. Scampering from one side of the jar to the other, he tried to topple it over. Maybe, if he was lucky, the jar would roll off McGonagall’s desk and shatter. It was the most active we’d seen him since that one time Errol tried to eat him. My palms started to sweat in anticipation, and I quickly dried them on my robes. It wouldn't do if my grip on my wand was too slippery during our demonstration. 

"There is a way to force an animagus out of their animal form", Fred took over. "It's called the reversal spell. It only affects animagi and is completely harmless to normal animals".

"But this spell can only be used non-verbally," George added.

"We've been practicing it for our visual aid," explained Lee.

"This is just a normal rat", I said as the four of us started to shift around so McGonagall and our classmates could get a good view of Scabbers. Fred and Lee moved to the left. George and I took the right. "So, you'll get to see what the spell looks like, but Scabbers will be perfectly alright", I lied as the four of us pulled out our wands. 

From her desk chair, McGonagall leaned forward, intrigued. So far, all of the other presentation visual aids had been posters. One very motivated group of Ravenclaws had performed a skit. But we were the first group to use a spell for our visual aid. And a non-verbal one at that! 

As we held our wands vertically up in front of our noses, Scabbers squeaked up a storm. His efforts increased; trying to get the jar to fall. But it was too late. Just like in practice, the four of us scrunched our noses and squinted our eyes. For a moment, nothing happens except for a Ravenclaw coughing from somewhere in the back of the room. 

We probably looked ridiculous standing up here and making such silly faces. But the next moment, blue laser-like light shoots out of our wands and merged at the jar. Scabbers gives a terrified squeak before he is engulfed by the blue light. 

Please, Merlin. Let this work.

Both Scabbers and the jar were lifted a few inches off McGonagall's desk. The whole classroom gasped. A second in, Scabbers' form starts to get bigger. He twitched and twisted in the blue light as his form transfigured itself. McGonagall hurried to her feet, and her chair was knocked over in the process. Because, in that moment, Scabbers became too big for the jar. 

In a burst, shards of glass cascaded down McGonagall's desk and onto the classroom floor. In the back of my mind, I hoped no one was hit by any miscellaneous glass. But I couldn’t think too much about it.  Not with the spell still underway. 

Still encased in the blue light, Scabbers became less and less rat-like. Between the light and changing outline, this spell kind of reminded me of evolving Pokémon. Something from a cartoon Jessie used to watch after school. 

Soon, we see a human arm instead of a paw. Then a foot. The intensity of the spell light picked up. It gets so bright that the whole class is blinded. We couldn't see each other. And we can't see Scabbers. The light lasted for at least five more seconds. And when it faded, the four of us lowered our wands; panting and sweating from all our efforts. 

But that felt unimportant. As our class gawked in silence at the shaggy, smelly man squatting on McGonagall’s desk. With poor hygiene, rags for clothes, and rotting teeth, he was the definition of stranger danger. 

Lee was the first to react. "Merlin, what have we done!" Even Scabbers was frozen, as if he didn’t know what to do. Lee's eyes stole a glance at us triplets. But self-preservation wouldn’t allow him to keep his eyes away from the strange adult for long. “Ron is going to kill you three”. George grabbed my wandless hand and squeezed. We had done it. There would be no more murderers sleeping in our brother's bed. 

As the rest of the room recovered, Pettigrew stared at his hands as if he couldn’t quite believe they were there. Skin void of color, Pettigrew looked like he was going to be sick as his whole body trembled. Our classmates forgot their shock as a rare bout of whispering overtook McGonagall’s classroom. 

The sound was enough to snap Pettigrew out of whatever daze he was in. Unbalanced, he tried to climb down from McGonagall’s desk. However, McGonagall had recovered too. Leaning slightly over her desk, McGonagall pressed the tip of her wand at the pulse point in his neck. Pettigrew stilled; every muscle in his body locking. 

“Don’t move”, McGonagall ordered. Never before had McGonagall sounded so scary. So dangerous. And that’s coming from students who regularly had detention with her.

"Professor McGonagall", the strange little man stuttered in a pleading voice.

McGonagall didn't react to the sound of her name. I wondered if she was shocked that the homeless-looking intruder knew her by name. Or did she recognize Pettigrew? It had been over a decade… seemed unlikely. 

Without moving her wand, McGonagall’s eyes flashed in our direction before fixating back on Pettigrew. "Weasleys, Jordan, step away carefully, and return to your seats”, the voice McGonagall used was deceptively and threateningly calm. It had silence returning to the classroom as everyone watched and waited for further instruction. 

Lee didn't need to be told twice. His steps were a fast speed walk as he made for the back of the room. Being pushed forward by George, I followed behind, heart racing as adrenaline rushed through my veins. What a relief. So satisfying. After ten years, I was finally free of the bastard!

McGonagall waited until we were out of grabbing distance before addressing one of the Ravenclaws sitting in the second row. "Davies, go and fetch Professor Dumbledore and any other members of staff that you see on the way. Tell them it is a matter of urgency and that a lockdown is necessary". Davies left his seat as the four of us sank heavily into ours. The weight of our spell-casting casting finally catching up with us. 

Heads turned to watch Davies go. He just about sprinted out of the door. "Everyone else is to remain quietly in their seats with their wands at hand", McGonagall said. I think she was forcing herself to talk like she was merely lecturing to keep the rest of us from panicking.

In his seat, Lee leaned over and whispered to Fred. "Think we'll get extra credit for this?"

I couldn’t tear my eyes from Pettigrew. He was… worse than how Jessie imagined. Despite a body that looked well fed, there was a look of malnourishment to him. I guess the diet of a rat was not enough to sustain a human body. As Pettigrew’s beady little eyes flickered desperately around the room, I shuddered. Causing George to sit as close to me as possible. 

Seeing Pettigrew in human form, after years of claiming that Scabbers was a monster, it felt like learning that the boogieman was real. 

In front of me, Fred snorted. "We better get extra credit. Our spell worked".

"What were the odds?" George whispered his input; sounding far too innocent to be believable.

"What will happen next?" I asked; forcing myself to look away from Pettigrew to gauge my brother's expressions. Our plan extended only as far as exposing Pettigrew. An act that naturally relinquished all our control over the matter. Especially as unassuming third years who had unknowingly uncovered a madman. 

Fred and George wore identical foreboding expressions. But they didn’t have an answer for me. Lee, however. “You’re talking like you knew this was going to happen”. 

George blew air out of his mouth. "What? No. That's mental, mate".

"Yeah," Fred said a bit too quickly. "How could we have known this would happen? None of us are even in divination."

"Uh-huh," Lee said flatly. But luckily, he dropped the subject. If only because we were attracting a quick and warning look from McGonagall as she kept the intruder at wandpoint. 

We knew Davies reached Dumbledore when Dumbledore's voice magically echoed throughout the school. Like some sort of magical intercom. "All students are to return to their dormitories. Prefects are to take attendance and follow lockdown procedures. All heads of houses are to meet in the transfiguration classroom. All other members of staff are to follow protocol and clear the classrooms, halls, and bathrooms for any straggling students''.

Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike started to fervently mutter to each other as they moved to collect their things. But McGonagall put an end to it. “Nobody move", she said just loud enough to gain everyone's attention. "Stay in your seats. You'll be allowed to leave once more teachers have arrived". 

Her wand was still pressed against Pettigrew's pulse point. Her hand was steady. But Pettigrew was not. He was twitching and whimpering. From under his facial hair, I could see his lips move as he whispered to McGonagall. But we were sitting too far away to make out what he was saying. McGonagall never responded to him. Not once.

Dumbledore arrived first, with Flitwick following seconds behind. "Professor McGonagall", Dumbledore greeted as he swept into the classroom. His eyes briefly glanced at all of us sitting students, but he had no problem identifying the problem at once. An idiot could have walked in and been able to point out the disturbance. Dumbledore's eyes hardened, and there was no twinkle in them as he approached the front of the room.

"Oh, my", Flitwick said in a high-pitched voice as he too noticed the strange-looking man. But unlike Dumbledore, he directed his attention to the third-years sitting behind desks. "Is everyone alright?" 

Dumbledore pulled out his wand. Despite this being a wizard school, I had never seen Dumbledore's wand before. I leaned forward in my seat a little and tensed up. The Elder Wand. If I am remembering correctly, that could be the Elder Wand. I don't know when Dumbledore got this particular Deathly Hallow. If I could get a closer look, maybe I could identify it. Still, it was a provoking thought that a piece of the end game is currently in the same room as me.

Pointing his wand at  Pettigrew, Dumbledore maintained more of a distance as he stationed himself between the class and the man. “Professor McGonagall, you may move away if you would like”. Tranquil with a touch of laissez-faire, Dumbledore sounded the same despite his mannerism adding to the tension of the room.  

With a nod of her head, McGonagall stepped away to take up the same distance between her and Pettigrew that Dumbledore had. Although no longer pressed against his pulse, McGonagall kept her wand trailed on Pettigrew. She walked around her desk to stand off to the right; blocking one of Pettigrew’s sides. 

"Now, tell me what has occurred", Dumbledore ordered. Just in time for Snape’s arrival.  

Snape had no visible reaction to the sight that was before him. He spared a glance at Flitwick, who was still checking on students, but he headed straight for Dumbledore's right. Snape’s wand was out and held at the ready before I could even blink. Now, there was nowhere for Pettigrew to go. He had the He had wall behind him and three teachers on his other sides. 

"The students were giving their presentations on animagi and human transfiguration, and we made a startling discovery when a student's rat resulted in this". McGonagall answered, bobbing her head at Pettigrew. 

"Professor Flitwick", Dumbledore called over his shoulder. "Please escort the Ravenclaws to their tower, and notify the ministry of our intruder. Professor Sprout will collect the Gryffindors once she arrives".

"Yes, yes! Of course!" The littlest wizard piped up; making broad gestures with one of his arms to wave the Ravenclaws out of their seats. "Right this way, right this way. Arlington, you lead. Head straight for Ravenclaw Tower". 

"Slowly", Dumbledore said to Pettigrew once the door shut behind Flitwick. "Climb down from the desk and turn to face me". 

"Shouldn't we wait for the remaining students to be out of harm's way?" McGonagall asked before Pettigrew moved. Our fellow Gryffindors were starting to show their restlessness through fidgeting and nervous foot tapping. But no one dared to break their silence, not with Dumbledore commanding the room.

"Nothing we can't handle," Snape said, his voice silky smooth. He turned his words to Pettigrew. "You heard him. Get down". Snape drawled out each word slowly, like pulling teeth.

With whole limbs trembling, Pettigrew did just that. His arms barely supported him as he stumbled off McGonagall's desk. Professor Sprout barged into the room as Pettigrew fought to find his footing. 

There was dirt smattered on the hem of her robes, and they swished around her ankles as she hurried in. It makes sense that she was last. She would have had the longest commute coming from the greenhouses. "What's happened?" She asked as she rushed past us. Her face was flushed red. A sign that the slightly overweight woman had run all the way here.

"An intruder, Professor Sprout", Dumbledore said over his shoulder. "Professor Flitwick will alert the department of magical law enforcement. Please escort the rest of the children out of the room, and then head to the front gates to admit the aurors when they arrive".

Sprout permitted herself a moment to collect herself before flapping her arms at us. "Alright, Boys and Girls, gather your things and walk out in a single file line". As we collected our book bags, Fred, George, and I shared looks. It sounded like our part was done. But I doubted this would be the last we'd hear of it.

Intruder at Hogwarts

By Peter Blotting

Right before students were sent home for the holidays, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry uncovered an unauthorized, unregistered Animagus living on campus. The animagus in question had been living as a student’s pet for many years. The animagus' identity has not yet been confirmed. All we know is that it is a wizard, roughly in his thirties, and in poor health.

The man was revealed unintentionally by four third-year students during their transfiguration presentation. When questioned by aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the children expressed that they were unaware that their pet rat was actually a man. 

In his animagus form, the wizard had been found by the three siblings' older brother and welcomed into the family as a pet. When interviewed, the children were rightfully disturbed to learn that an uninvited wizard had lived in their house for the majority of their lives. None of the children reported any suspicions that their rat was actually a man. 

As this is breaking news, we have not yet been able to get testimony from the children's parents about this turn of events. However, it appears unlikely that anyone in the household was aware of the intruder. When the youngest brother of the family was told about what happened to his rat, his response was, "I let him sleep in my bed!"

As for the wizard in question, he was removed from Hogwarts by law enforcement. It was noted by Hogwarts faculty, students, and the aurors present that the man tried numerous times to escape from custody, and he refused to identify himself. 

The people involved and the rest of the public can only speculate why a wizard would voluntarily live as a house pet for ten years. The wizard in question is currently being held under guard in a secure room at St. Mungos as aurors try to identify him and healers work to deduce the state of his mental health. More news to come as this puzzling case unfolds.

I finished reading the article and set this morning’s Daily Prophet next to my breakfast plate. "You're right. It's not that bad", I told Fred.

Wiping his hands clean from toast crumbs, George took the paper. “My turn”. 

The Great Hall wasn't as crowded as it normally was. Today was officially the start of winter break; as such, the majority of students were busy packing before they had to catch the Hogwarts Express. Though it would be a difficult trip down to Hogsmeade Station. A heavy layer of snow had fallen the night before, and I doubt even the thestrals would have an easy time trudging through it. 

A lot of the students had taken the Hogwarts intruder event with glee because it meant that afternoon exams had been canceled. But, in a shocking change of pace, the third-year Gryffindors were subdued. It was too new. The memory of how seriously the teachers took Pettigrew’s reveal. From McGonagall threatening someone with her wand to Snape not making one sarcastic remark during the whole incident… Well, those actions spoke volumes.

"At least that Skeeter woman didn't write it. This bloke, Blotting, stuck to the facts", said Fred as he helped himself to more bacon. I had to agree with him. Imagine the creative liberties Rita Skeeter would have invented. 

After Sprout had led us from the classroom, my fellow triplets, Lee, and I spent the first hour of lockdown in the common room. I don't think Percy had ever been so happy to see the lot of us when we finally climbed through the portrait hole and joined the rest of Gryffindor house. 

As a prefect, he would’ve been the one to take attendance and mark off names. It must have been scary; checking off every name except for the Gryffindor third years. Being forced to leave three of his siblings unaccounted for. I could imagine the panic. What would he tell Mum and Dad if he lost three out of four of us?

Upon reaching the Gryffindor common room, Percy had elicited promises from each of us triplets that we were unharmed before he herded us into a corner that already housed Ron and his friends. Just so Percy could keep an eye on all the gingers at the same time. Never mind the whisperings and gossip as the other years tried to pull info from the third years. If we hadn’t just disposed of Percy’s and Ron’s pet rat, I suspect Fred and George would have put up more of a fight. 

Percy wasn't given much respite from his worry. After an hour had passed, McGonagall came to the Gryffindor tower, but not with news that the lockdown was over. Instead, she asked that I, my fellow triplets, and Lee come with her to talk to the authorities. Percy had demanded to know why; adjusting his glasses like a man losing his vision. But McGonagall ignored him.

"Do you think they'll print it when the ministry formally recognizes Scabbers as Pettigrew?" George asked in a lower voice once he had finished reading. 

I shrugged; looking down the table at the other people who weren’t leaving for the holidays. Pettigrew back from the dead wouldn't be nearly as earth-shattering as when You-Know-Who returns. So, it's hard to believe the ministry would try to deny that Pettigrew's alive. But Fudge was currently the Minister of Magic. He might just decide to sweep it under the rug so he doesn't have to admit that sentencing Sirius Black to Azkaban without trial was a mistake. 

After McGonagall had collected us, we were brought to Dumbledore's office. Two aurors proceed to ask us everything from our transfiguration assignment to where we got the rat. When they learned that the rat in question was a pet belonging to first our older brother and then our younger brother, Percy and Ron were also sent for. 

It was there that Percy and Ron learned that Scabbers was an animagus. Horrified doesn't even come close to describing Percy's and Ron's reactions. Between Lee's genuine shock at what the reversal spell uncovered and Percy's and Ron's terror, the aurors let us go; believing that none of us had been aware of Pettigrew’s disguise. Even with Fred, George, and my inability to act. The aurors even asked one or two questions about our ridiculous hats.

Further down the table, Ron and Percy sat side-by-side with Harry directly across. The two had been close since returning from Dumbledore’s office. There was a mutual understanding between them that my fellow triplets and I couldn’t share. From knowing what it felt like to carry Scabbers in your pockets to thinking about their privacy and personal space that the deranged man had invaded. 

Since yesterday, Ron had clung to Percy. Something he hadn't done since learning that Percy couldn’t protect him from Fred and George. Percy didn't seem to mind. The two of them had spent the night occupying the sofa in front of Gryffindor’s fireplace; staring into the flames. They had stayed that way until Ron had fallen asleep, slumped against Percy’s side. 

My eyes drifted over to Harry. Other than being empathetic to Ron's feelings, he wasn’t any more unnerved than any other student. It was a weird, awkward feeling. Watching Harry with knowledge that his life was about to change, while he had no clue.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Wonder Weasleys

We spoke too soon about Rita Skeeter not getting her hands on the Pettigrew story. The next morning, in the Great Hall, there was another news article for us to read. Fred and George almost blew a gasket; they were laughing so hard over our morning bowls of porridge. Me, on the other hand, was ready to bury myself ten feet under the ground and never come out again. Today's Daily Prophet headline was: 

Wonder Weasleys Discover Mouse-Man; Is he a Mouse or is he a Man?

Intrigue swept the nation when a mysterious mouse-man was uncovered at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by the Wonder Weasleys. One can only imagine how such a lapse in security could happen. However, breaking news has occurred. I'm Rita Skeeter, and I am here to provide my dear readers with all the juicy details. 

The intruder at Hogwarts was exposed by Fred, George, and Holly Weasley. The siblings were acting as the mouse-man's owners, unbeknownst to them that they were harboring a grown wizard. He was revealed quite accidentally during a class project by the Wonder Weasleys. It is a fitting name for such ambitious young wizards and witch because they had uncovered the mouse-man during a demonstration of the reversal spell- a magical feat above their academic level. At least Hogwarts is doing something right.

Once the mouse-man was removed from the school, aurors spent many hours searching for and confirming the identity of our rogue animagus. He is none other than Peter Pettigrew! 

For those who remember the name Peter Pettigrew, you will be wondering how that is possible. Ten years ago, Peter Pettigrew was claimed dead after being massacred by notorious mass murderer Sirius Black along with twelve muggles. At the time, all the wizarding world had of Pettigrew was a finger. It was assumed the rest of him had been blasted to smithereens along with the muggles. 

However, that appears not to be the case. The mysterious mouse-man is missing a finger. The same type of finger that was found at the scene of the crime many years ago. It took aurors casting facial recognition spells and comparing magical cores before an identification occurred. Once he is fit to stand trial, Pettigrew will be charged with unlawful animagus transformation. No words as of yet from the Wonder Weasleys' parents if they will press charges against Pettigrew for trespassing. But are those the only crimes Pettigrew is guilty of?

With the information that Pettigrew had not been killed, many have started to question if the deranged Sirius Black is truly at fault for the massacre of twelve muggles all those years ago. The plot thickens with the knowledge that Black was sentenced to life in Azkaban without trial. The ministry is in upheaval as citizens fear for the protection of their rights. If it can happen to the noble house of Black, it can happen to any of us. I can only assume that the ministry will have to release Black if they have any chance to make up for this legal blunder.

But enough about Black. Let's focus on the mouse-man. The intrigue continues during his stay at St. Mungo's. Pettigrew has been a curiosity to all healers on staff. How has Pettigrew maintained his animagus form for so long without losing all sense of his humanity? 

Animagus expert, Martin Moonshine, has informed me that at this point, Pettigrew may be more mouse than man. The healers have been tight-lipped about the current status of Pettigrew's well-being. But it does leave us to wonder if a mouse can be charged with any crime. I'm Rita Skeeter, and I will be your main source of information and details as this case progresses.

"Why?" I bemoaned as Fred and George continued to die from their shared sense of humor. I aggressively shake today's paper. "Just why? She didn't even report any new details. She just sensationalized it!"

Before swinging an arm over my shoulders, George attempted to calm himself with a large inhale. "That's not true, Jolly Holly. She released Pettigrew's identity".

Skeeter did that. I grudgingly allowed. But she also called him a mouse instead of a rat. Probably because the alliteration sounded better. And she dramatized my brothers and my involvement. She even cut Lee out of her version of the story! 

"I like the title". Fred spoke up. "The wonder Weasleys. It has a nice ring to it. I think we should make T-shirts".

"You would", I muttered as I continued to look over the article. The biggest upset was the picture they had printed to go with it. It wasn’t a snapshot of Pettigrew, which would have made the most logical sense. Instead, Fred, George, and I were depicted; standing shoulder-to-shoulder with our stupid Sherlock Holmes hats. 

"How did they even get a picture of us?" I exclaimed to my brothers, feeling both violated and offended. Oh, Merlin. It was bad enough that the entire school got to see me wearing this hat, but now there was printed evidence!

 Kill me. Someone, please, kill me… Actually, never mind. That's a terrible expression. I'm still having nightmares from the last time I was killed.

"I don't know, Holls", Fred answered with a badly concealed snigger. "But I think it makes us look intriguingly handsome".

"Or pretty in your case", George included.

"I think we might ask Mum to get it framed for us".

"We can hang it on our bedroom wall".

"As a keepsake".

I dropped the paper and leaned into Fred as George removed his arm from my person. "You guys are the worst", I mumbled in defeat.

"Aw", Fred said between humorous snorts. "I think we broke her, George".

"It's okay, Holls. Have some bacon. That'll fix you right up". And George proceeded to stack bacon onto my plate until I had a mound of it.

"Bacon can fix anything".

"And then the picture won't bother you".

"Soon, I bet you'll even start to like our hats". Fred finished; flicking the pink monstrosity on top of my head in emphasis. These gits.

This was our first time spending the holidays at Hogwarts. Before now, Mum would never have dreamed of spending Christmas away from us. But with Bill and Charlie out of the house, her plans for having the entire family home had to change. 

It didn't bother me. The Jessie part of my brain was still trying to understand why we called it Christmas instead of Yule. I mean, Christmas was intended to be a religious holiday; celebrating the birth of Jesus. For Jessie, it was a commercial experience involving shopping and Santa Claus. 

In the wizarding world, Christmas (or Yule, based on your circles) was just a day where we ate a lot of food and exchanged gifts. There was no talk about religion or Santa Claus. It made me wonder how the day had slowly bled into wizarding tradition. 

Lee went home for the holidays along with all the other Gryffindor third-years. So, I moved into Fred and George’s dorm for the break. And had taken to sleeping in Lee's bed. After the house-elves had cleaned it, of course. Having always shared a room, I didn’t like sleeping alone. The silence was too stifling. 

"Holly", George called from where he sat on the floor with Fred. They had the Marauder's map laid out between them. Plotting out Filch's comings and goings. "Can you get our transfiguration book out of Fred's trunk?"

"Why?" I asked; looking up from the magazine I was reading on Lee's bed. Alicia had left behind a couple of issues of Teen Witch Weekly. Not really my cup of tea, though the quizzes on which quidditch ball your love would be were fun. And there was an article in the latest issue about how the Bulgarian national quidditch team had placed a fourteen-year-old boy on retainer in preparation for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup that I was interested in.

"We need it," Fred answered.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?" I asked again. Past experiences have taught me to always question when Fred and George ask me to open things.

George rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Norris isn't going to transfigure herself, Holls." He said it like it was obvious.

"Yeah. We spent most of the last term on the Scabbers issue. We need to make up for lost time".

"Poor Filch has probably been missing us". George said. 

"Why can't you get it yourself?"

"You're closer," the boys said in sync.

With one more hard look, I rolled off Lee's bed and left my magazine behind. It took a couple of steps to reach Fred's trunk. It used to belong to Bill. And the hinges squeak when you open it. That’s how we tell it apart from George’s trunk, which had been purchased at a second-hand shop. 

As such, the hinges announced my intrusion as I leaned over to start digging for the requested book. Though I didn’t get very far when an ‘unexpected’ sparkly puff of dust exploded in my face. 

Fred and George roared with laughter as I started coughing. First, I glanced down at my person. Then, I swiped a hand over my forehead before inspecting my palm. Clinging to my skin and bedazzling one of Charlie’s old shirts were shimmering red and gold flecks. 

Spinning around, I fumed at Fred and George. “Did you really rig your trunk with a glitter bomb?”  

"As we said, Holls", George said as he and Fred reined in their mirth.

"We're making up for lost time".

I waved my arms so that I could gesture to all of me. "Why glitter? It's going to take me weeks to get this out of my hair!"

"We know," the boys said together, wearing identically pleased grins.

"That's why we chose glitter". Fred started the explanation.

"Thought it would make you look festive for the holidays".

"Would you have preferred frog pus?"

My left eye twitched as I resisted the urge to giggle. Merlin, spare me. Seems I’d be going to Christmas dinner dressed as a Gryffindor disco ball. Pressing my lips tightly together to keep my amusement in check, I stalked towards the door. To laugh with them at my expense would only encourage them.

"Where are you going?" George called after me.

"We still have Filch to mess with!" Fred yelled at my retreating back.

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyeglasses balanced on the tip. "One day," she said before opening her eyes and glaring at us from the other side of her desk. "You three have been left to your own devices for one day. And already you've been dragged to my office for mischief!" 

McGonagall shook her head as if she couldn't quite accept that we were students from her house. "What does your mother do with you during breaks from school?"

I shrugged with a sideways inclination of my head. "She usually tries to keep us separated. And when she can't do that, she puts Ron or Percy between us. Sometimes-". George interrupted me with an elbow to my side before I could get to the part about the extra chores.

"Do you three cause trouble like this at home? Mr. Filch was beside himself to see his cat charmed yellow”. 

"Oh, no ma'am," Fred said in earnest.

"Mum would kill us and feed us to her chickens if we tried," said George.

I couldn't tell if their answer displeased or relieved McGonagall. Either she was happy to hear that we weren't complete terrors for our parents, or she was displeased that she got the worst end of us during the school year. Because, unlike Mum, she couldn't kill us and feed us to chickens. 

As it were, McGonagall rubbed her temple. If we weren’t standing in front of her, I’d think she was getting a headache from how tightly she had done up her hair. "Why did you feel the need to turn a cat yellow?"

We didn’t pause to think as we answered as one. "We were bored".

"Honestly, Ma'am," Fred said. "Filch looked a bit depressed to us".

"And yellow is such a happy color", I said; doing my part.

"We thought it would cheer him up", George finished with an unashamed smile.

Judging by the wrinkles around her lips, McGonagall appeared to be at a loss and was trying to hide it. I understand her conundrum. Mum bore the same problem frequently. Honestly, if magical day school had been an option, I think Mum still would have found a way to send us to boarding school. Just to get us out of her hair. 

"Do you think you're setting a good example for your younger brother?" McGonagall tried to appeal to our better natures.

It's Fred's turn to shrug. "We figured that's what Percy is for".

"Since he's a role model that adults approve of". I throw in my two cents.

"Honestly, Professor, he's not good for much else".

Silence passed between us as McGonagall stared. "You know, you three are the only students that Mr. Filch has ever requested a restraining order against".

That perked Fred and George right up. "Really?" Fred asked as if McGonagall had just offered him a biscuit. If he and George could, they'd probably wear that restraining order like a badge of honor.

McGonagall found cause to be stern in Fred's response. Her eyes narrowed as she fixed her line of sight directly on Fred. "People wanting to avoid you isn't something you should be celebrating, Mr. Weasley".

"It is when the person is Filch". George debated.

"Mr. Filch", McGonagall corrected, replacing Fred with George as her focus. "Each of you will lose ten house points for the magic you used on Mrs. Norris and for the distress you've caused our caretaker. You will also receive detention for the first evening of the new term for the headache you three have caused me. And I will be writing to your mother in the hopes that she can tell me how to best prepare you three for chicken feed".

My brothers and I snorted. 

Fixing us with one more look that, to be honest, fell a little short, McGonagall relaxed in her chair. "Please try to refrain from any more trouble for the rest of the holidays. Despite what you may believe, teachers enjoy breaks from school as well".

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Father Christmas

“Have a Jolly Holly Christmas

She's the best sister of the year

I don't know if she'll tango

But have a dance or two”

I turned over and groaned into my pillow. "Stop", I whined as Fred and George raised their volume.

“Have a Jolly Holly Christmas

And when you walk down the street

Say hello to the Weasleys you know

There's plenty of us to meet”

Someone, either Fred or George, started to tug on my blankets. In response, I chucked my pillow in the general direction of the disturbance. But it was a mistake. Now, there was nothing to cover my ears with.

“Oh, ho! the missing toe!

Hung where Holly can see

Somebody lobbed it off

What a frightful sight to see”

Whoever was tugging on my covers successfully yanked them off me. Groaning in defeat, I gave up and rolled onto my back to sit up.

Fred and George stood at the foot of Lee's bed. A small pile of presents sat between them and the bed. Each had one arm draped over the other’s shoulders while they stretched out their other arm for a grand effect. Heads tilted back, they belted out the last verse to the ceiling. 

“Have a Jolly Holly Christmas

And in case you didn't hear

Oh, by golly! Have a Jolly Holly Christmas

This year!”

At the end of their song, Fred and George look at me in a mockery of expectation. As if I’d applaud such a performance. Honestly, I blame Dad. One Christmas, he insisted on singing muggle Christmas carols from a book he got from Bill… Actually, it's Bill's fault. I'll have to write Bill and file a complaint. 

"Can I go back to bed now?" 

"No", said George, as he lowered his raised arm in favor of a more akimbo style.

"It's Christmas, Holls," said Fred as he untwined his arm from over George's shoulder and walked over to one side of the bed.

"It's family time", George added as Fred grabbed my upper right arm and started tugging. I whimpered in complaint. Nonetheless, I swung my legs over the right side of the bed and allowed Fred to pull me to my feet.  

"We waited for you".

"But we want to open presents", George finished; having moved to the foot of his bed where two parcels waited. We each had the same amount. All wrapped in slightly stained brown paper. 

"Let's open these and then we'll drop in on Ronniekins and friend", said Fred.

"And then we'll track down Percy and start the holiday officially". Said George; sitting on the floor in front of his presents.

Fred and I copied him; sitting criss-cross on their dorm room floor. One with more enthusiasm than the other. Last night’s nightmare hadn’t left much room for festive feelings and Christmas cheer. “As long as the holiday can start in the Great Hall. I need coffee”. 

Fred snorted as we reached for identical lumpy packages that each of us had. “Percy’s not going to let you drink that”. 

I shrugged as we started ripping through the brown wrapping. “I’ll tell him it's hot chocolate”. 

It didn’t take long for Fred, George, and me to pull our brand new Christmas jumpers over our pajama tops. This year, we had each been gifted a blue one with our respective first initials embroidered big and bold in the center. Charlie and Bill used to joke that the tradition for monogrammed jumpers started after we were born. As a way for Mum to help visiting relatives tell Fred and George apart. Naturally, the first time Charlie and Bill told that joke was the first time Fred and George switched jumpers.

The second gift was a tin that contained Mum's famous fudge and some gingerbread biscuits. The biscuits, I could tell, had been decorated by Ginny. She's the only one who would have used that much pink frosting. A surprise twinge of sadness radiated from my gut as I stared down at all the goodies Mum had stuffed inside the tin. I had missed the holiday baking spree this year. Mum and I usually spent two to three days in the kitchen doing little else, with Ginny volunteering to help with the decorating on the last day. 

Tucking our tins into safe hiding places so hungry little brothers wouldn’t get any ideas, Fred, George, and I left their dorm to head for Ron’s. Harry and Ron were already up when we barged through their door. And by the sight of all the wrappings littering the floor, they had been up for a while. Long enough to hide an invisibility clock, I suspect. 

Like us, Ron had already put on his maroon jumper with a great big R on the front. Around his lips, I could see signs of smeared, melted fudge. "Merry Christmas!" Fred and George exclaimed upon entering. 

The two first-years jumped at our unexpected entry. But Ron quickly turned to unimpressed as he relaxed and slouched from where he was sitting. Harry, on the other hand, looked elated; holding a certain spark of Christmas innocence that put the rest of us to shame. 

"Happy Christmas", Harry returned the greeting; blushing a little. Even I was moved enough to offer a smile as I flopped onto my stomach on Ron’s bed. 

"Oh, look," Fred said as he walked over to Harry's bed and pulled up another knitted jumper from the wrappings. "Harry's got a Weasley jumper too". Except Harry's was green. A color that Mum usually used sparingly, since we are a proud family of Gryffindors.

George walked over to investigate. "Better quality though. Looks like Mum puts in more effort if you aren't family". George took the jumper from Fred and held it up in the light before tossing it to Harry. When it landed in his lap, Harry's fingers ran over the jumper as he smiled at the soft yarn. 

Reaching over the bed, I ruffled Ron's hair. Who immediately tried to slap my hands away. "How's the fudge?" I asked.

Ron turned just enough to see me. "She gave me extra this year," he said, eyes wide with excitement.

I smile back at him. "Mum knows it's your favorite".

At that moment, Percy deigned to join us. He entered the dorm with a violet jumper resting across his arm. "Must you make such a racket this early in the morning?" Percy scolded. But he wasn't fooling me. He sought us out; meaning he wanted to see us.

Fred and George wasted no time in accosting our older brother. Plucking the jumper for Percy’s arm before he could protest, Fred held it out for all of us to see. “A big capital P! Is that for Percy or Prefect?” Fred asked; tossing the jump to George when Percy tried to reclaim it. 

"Well, put it on”, demanded George, even though he was currently holding the jumper away from Percy’s reach. 

“We’re wearing ours. Even Harry's got one". Fred nodded at Harry to put his jumper on as well. Harry happily obliged. He pulled it on over his head, and once it was set right, he looked down and traced the letter on his chest as if it were the lost key to his Gringotts vault. 

"I don't want to," Percy stated, which was the only permission Fred and George needed to wrestle the jumper over Percy's head; knocking his glasses off one ear in the process.

Once Percy's jumper was on, Fred and George ignored his grumblings as he righted his glasses. " You're sitting with us at breakfast", said George as he looped one of his arms through Percy’s.

"Christmas is family time". Fred added as he grabbed the other arm. Together, they marched Percy out of the dorm to the beat of another horribly off-key carol. 

“Percy the puny poinsettia

Is hanging his bloom in dismay

If they had just kept him wetta

He'd be a houseplant today

Folks liked the other plants betta

Now he's alone on the shelf

Even a plant with no uncle or aunt

Shouldn't spend Christmas Day by himself”

Still feeling groggy, I lumbered after them. But not before shepherding the two first years. “Come on, boys”, I said; tucking each under one arm. “They’ll sit us right next to the teachers if we let them get too far ahead”.  

However, our journey to the Great Hall was delayed halfway. McGonagall ran into our merry little group before somewhere between the fourth and third floor. After making the necessary holiday greetings, our head of house turned to Harry. "Potter, you are needed in the headmaster's office." 

Harry's face became complex while Ron voiced his questions for him, "What? Why?"

McGonagall fixed Ron with a stern gaze. "That is none of your business, Mr. Weasley. This way, Potter. Follow me".

Giving Ron a hapless shrug, Harry stepped out from under my arm and trailed after McGonagall; sending backward glances over his shoulder as he went. 

"I wonder what that's about," Fred said as he and George looked at me; questioning if I knew anything. Subtly, I shook my head as we continued on our way. This had not happened in the book. 

The Great Hall had been reduced from five tables to one. It was set up in the center of the room, decorated with sprigs of holly, amongst the golden serving trays. The different houses and staff intermingled as they passed plates of cinnamon buns and scrambled eggs. We split into two groups as we filled in the end of the table; Fred, George, and I on one side and Ron and Percy on the other. Noticeably, Dumbledore was absent. 

We made small talk as we passed food between us. At one point during our discussion about what Mum, Dad, and Ginny could possibly be seeing in Romania, I had the whole plate of cinnamon buns in front of me with no intention of sharing them until Flitwick asked me to pass them down. 

I have no problems denying my brothers the sticky goodness that is cinnamon buns. But regrettably, it is another thing to deny a teacher. Breakfast concluded with Fred and George detaining Percy before he could slip away. "Snowball fight?" George suggested as we exited the Great Hall.

"We'll have to put on warmer things before going out", I said. We had all gone down to the great hall in just our pajamas and jumpers. And while they are very comfy, they aren't very waterproof. 

However, when we made it to the tower, outdoor adventures slipped from our minds. Sitting across from each other in the two armchairs by the fire were Harry and a shaggy, thin man with dark bags under his eyes. 

My brothers and I all paused at the sight. None of us knew what to do. There really wasn't any protocol in place about what to do if someone breaks into a common room because no one but staff and house members should be able to access them. 

At the sounds of the great Weasley entrance of 1991, Harry and the man turned in their chairs to look at us. Harry had lost a significant amount of color to his face, and there was a bit of pinkness to his eyes. As if he felt the urge to cry but was refusing to do so. 

Percy slid in front of us as the man rose from his chair. Despite how worn he looked, the man held his arms out in welcome. A big smile bloomed on his face. "You must be Harry's friends, the Weasleys”. 

Holy crap, it's Sirius Black! 

"And the… and the family that helped get me out of that awful place". Sirius winced and shivered. As if the mere reference to Azkaban was enough to bring a chill to his bones. 

My brothers exchanged looks as Percy reached behind him to not-so-subtly push Ron further back and into Fred and George. "I'm sorry, sir. Who are you?"

The man threw his head back and laughed as he lowered his arms to his side. "I forgot. Yes, of course. I'm Harry's godfather, Sirius Black".

"What… you… How?" Percy stuttered as he tried to perceive what to think and what to do. "You're not in Azkaban!" He finally settled on.

"No," Sirius laughed. "They let me out right in time for Christmas", he said, glancing around the common room to take in all the decorations the house-elves filled it with at the start of the season. From the garlands to the red and gold baubles, I wondered if it looked the same as when he was a student. 

"I imagine there'll be an article about it in the Daily Prophet come tomorrow". Sirius continued with a great appreciative sigh as his attention returned to us. "You'll have to forgive my appearance. I came straight here, only stopping to pick up a few things. I couldn't put off seeing Harry for another minute".

We were spared further awkwardness when Dumbledore walked down the stairs that led to the boys' dorm. "A journey down memory lane is always nice". The headmaster said as he made his entrance. He seemed to be speaking only to Harry and Sirius. As if he hadn't noticed us Weasleys had returned. Yet, I suspect differently. "The room looks the same as it did when I was a boy". 

Dumbledore stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Even the curtains hanging around the beds. They're just as ugly as I remember. You know, I set them on fire my fourth year. Accidently, of course".

"Professor?" Percy broke in.

Dumbledore looked our way with his signature twinkle in his eyes. "Ah," he said, although he didn't sound surprised in the slightest. "I see you five have finished with the morning meal. And now you are no doubt wondering about the stranger in your common room. I can assure you that everything is as it is meant to be''. 

Heh, that statement had me laughing on the inside. 

"This indeed is Sirius Black. He was released early this morning from Azkaban, cleared of all charges''.

"And he's here for Harry?" Ron asked; stepping out from behind Percy and shrugging off all of Percy’s attempts to drag him back. There was no mistaking the concern in Ron’s voice for his best friend. 

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. But he wasn't at liberty to explain further.

"And you Weasleys as well", Sirius was quick to add. “I need to thank your whole family for keeping Peter as a pet for all those years, and for the Wonder Weasleys exposing him during your transfiguration class”. 

Sirius spoke our media nickname with such mirth that Fred and George grinned as I felt my shoulders drop. A sudden wave of disgust made me regret all the food I had consumed at breakfast. 

"I wanted to thank your parents too, but I heard that they are currently abroad. But Dumbledore… that is, Professor Dumbledore, assured me that they would be okay with me visiting with you while Harry and I had our reunion". 

A look at Harry's face showed that he didn't see this as a reunion like Sirius did. To him, this was an introduction. An earth-shattering introduction. In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry had wholeheartedly took to the climax of Sirius secretly being the good guy. He had been ready for a family, a godfather to tell him all sorts of stories about his parents.  But maybe it was too much for an Eleven-year-old who was still growing accustomed to being a magical celebrity in a hidden society. He seemed a bit shell-shocked, to be honest.

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red cloth bag. With a tap of his wand, also pulled from a pocket, the bag grew until it resembled a sack. Almost as if Sirius Black was Father Christmas. "I have gifts for everyone", he said with a cheeriness that lit up his whole face. This was probably the first Christmas Sirius had been able to celebrate in ten years. 

As if needing permission, every Weasley glanced toward Dumbledore. Given how easy it is to curse unsuspecting objects in this world, every child within the wizarding world was strongly warned against accepting items from strangers. As such, no one moved until Dumbledore gave us one reassuring nod.

Ron took the first step; moving further away as he claimed the spot on the sofa that would place him the closest to Harry. "You alright, mate?" I heard him whisper as my fellow triplets and I moved next.

Fred and George took the last two spots on the sofa. Fred on the opposite end of Ron and George in the middle. Fred cast an apprehensive look at Sirius as I sat down on George’s lap; leaning against my brother as he wrapped an arm around my waist.  

Percy, too dignified to sit on the floor, took his place standing next to the mantle of the fireplace.

Sirius beamed as he sat back into his chair and started to dig through the red sack placed between his feet. Dumbledore sauntered over to stand behind Sirius' shoulder. His hands were folded behind his back as he wore his grandfatherly expression. One that told the tale of the prodigal son returning home. 

"Percy," Sirus said, looking around the room before his eyes landed on the oldest. He pulled out a dense-looking rectangular package wrapped in red paper with a gold bow. All very Gryffindor. "I heard you were quite the student. I thought you might have use of this". He held out the present for Percy to take.

After adjusting his glasses, Percy accepted with one hand. "Thank you," he said with an incline of his head. Based on the shape and size, I'm guessing it's a book.

But we don't get to watch Percy unwrap it, because Sirius turned his attention to us. "Now, for the Wonder Weasleys". He said, digging deeper into his sack. I scowl when he can't see me doing so.

Fred looked in my direction with a smirk. He mouthed the word 'T-shirts' at me. I give him a firm shake of my head. Over my dead body. The Sherlock Holmes hats are more than enough of a fashion statement for this year. 

"To use the reversal spell at your age, you three must be very clever". Sirius said as he pulled out a cubed box. One that is as tall as my torso. It's wrapped in purple paper dotted with pink circles. "So, I thought that you might find many uses for this''. Fred took the box from Sirius. Seeing as George was in no position to move. 

George and I leaned in as Fred ripped off the top layer of the gift. What lay underneath made our eyes bulge. "Blimey!" George exclaimed as we examined the contents. Sirius had bought us the greater contents of Zonko's Joke Shop, from frog spawn soap to dung bombs. There was enough there that we could engulf the whole school in absolute mayhem. 

"I suggest", Dumbledore spoke up. "That you three use these items sparingly. We won't want Mr. Filch to be too distressed". 

"Yes, sir," Fred said with a little too much glee.

"Thank you," the three of us said together a beat later.And not because Percy was giving us an expectant look.

Smiling and nodding, Sirius moved on to our younger brother; lacing his fingers together as before he spoke. "Now, Ron, I don't have a gift for you in my bag". 

Ron immediately deflated. Probably thinking that he wouldn't get one because that was just his luck. 

"Because it won't have survived the trip if I'd had stuffed it in there".  Just as fast, Ron perked up.  "I'm sorry that you lost your pet in all of this", Sirus expressed himself geniunely; gesturing his head in the direction of the stairs that Dumbledore had descended from. "Your gift is in your room. Go see". 

Ron didn't need to be told twice. Shooting out of his spot on the couch, Ron raced for the stairs. Once he was out of view, Sirius focused on Harry. "Now!" He said, clapping his hands once. "Christmas presents for my godson". And Sirius proceeds to pull box after box from his bag. Harry unwrapped new shirts, cloaks, and the like. He got a nose-biting teacup from Zonkos. And a bunch of chocolate frogs from Honeydukes.

The gifts continue to be given. Even after Ron came running back down the stairs with a little scops owl. "He got me an owl! He got me an owl!" Ron exclaimed; his face bright as he rejoined us on the couch. I was shocked. But also, glad. Despite the change in timeline. Ron still got Pigwidgeon. Of course, the chances of it being the same bird were slim. And who knew what Ron would end up calling it.

The last gift Harry got was a mirror. Throughout the gift-giving, Harry had gotten increasingly withdrawn. It was like he was waiting for someone to come take everything away and tell him that it was all a joke. But the mirror seemed to confuse him. "A mirror?" he asked, looking up at his unknown godfather.

"Not just any mirror". Sirius said, excited that Harry was interacting with him. "It's a two-way mirror". Percy gasped at that. I don't blame him. Two-way mirrors were incredibly rare. "I have another one just like it. With them, we will be able to talk whenever you want. Just look into it and say my name. I'll appear in your mirror, and you'll appear in mine. I thought we could plan your room this way."

Harry's eyes widened marginally at this. "Room?" He asked, taken aback. To be fair, last summer he had still been sleeping in a cupboard before his Hogwarts letters arrived. This is a big leap.

"Yes," Sirius assured, his smile infectious. "For when you come to live with me. You'll need a room. I was thinking we'd use Gryffindor colors. Maybe a quidditch theme".

"Sirius," Dumble interrupted before the two could get too carried away. "That's something to be discussed at a later time". Sirius waved him off but dropped the subject all the same. 

The rest of the afternoon passed with Sirius telling us stories about his time at Hogwarts. Percy interjected whenever the events of a story had a few too many broken rules for his taste. On the opposite end, Fred and George were digging for more information. 

Ron seemed to be listening as he uttered a "wow" or a "bloody hell" every once in a while. But his main focus was on petting the little owl perched on his shoulder. In response, the little feather ball nuzzled against Ron’s cheek. Both boy and owl seemed to preen under the attention they afforded each other. It had to be a match made in heaven. 

I didn't say anything. More interested in observing Harry than anyone else. Out of all the people this change of events would affect, Harry was probably the most vulnerable. It was a peculiar thing to watch as an orphaned boy realized there was an adult who cared. But with each story, especially the ones involving his dad and mum, Harry came back to himself. His face regained its normal color, and soon he was leaning forward in his seat and hanging on Sirius' every word. I think we just witnessed a Christmas miracle.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Our New Focus

Occupying our favorite empty classroom, Pucey and I sat across from each other. Between everything that happened in McGoagall’s class and the Christmas holidays, it was our first time meeting in a while. As such… It felt like we had to start from the beginning. 

“Have you been practicing at all?” Pucey asked. Despite the clear disinterest. Sure, maybe we called our time in empty classrooms ‘occulumency lessons’, but rarely did we stick to the topic. 

“No. Not in the slightest”. 

The look on Pucey’s face was almost despondent. “Did you forget? What it felt like to have someone inside your mind?”

For a brief moment, my hands clenched into fists. No. Only the strongest memory charm would be enough to make me forget such a thing. But Pucey’s offer to teach me occulumency wasn’t why I accepted, and it wasn’t like nothing was standing between me and a future attack. Not that I was going to tell Pucey about the pink deerstalker and its extra non-hat-like qualities. So, I shrugged and said, “Professor Dumbledore said there wouldn’t be another attack, and there hasn’t been”. 

“Unbelievable”, muttered Pucey; brooding as he looked away from me. 

“Besides, a lot happened during the break. There wasn’t time”.

“Like what?” Pucey challenged, his arms crossed as he glowered. 

“Well, before Christmas, Fred, George, and I were rather business with Mr. Filch”. Pucey’s derivative scoff was easy enough to ignore, and I kept going. “After Christmas, we had Ron to think about. With Sirius Black out of prison and visiting every day, Ron was-”

“Sirius Black?” Pucey interrupted. Suddenly, his arms were no longer crossed. 

Crossing my legs for a more comfortable position, I nodded. “Yeah. Did you see the article? The Daily Prophet published it on Boxing Day. Sirius Black was cleared of all charges and released on Christmas Eve. Turns out that he’s Potter’s godfather. He came straight from Akzban to Hogwarts. I think he spent as much time here as Dumbledore would allow. Which meant Ron was-”

“How did he look?” The second interruption was spoken with a little more reluctance. Almost as if Pucey wanted to know but hated that he had to ask. The change in his tone was enough to give me pause. 

“Um… Thin. Pale, naturally. He hadn’t seen sunlight in a decade. He looked like he needed a shave when we first saw him. But he got better as the days progressed. There were a few times he’d stare off into space. Like he forgot where he was. It never lasted long, however”. 

Through my description, Pucey appeared to hold his breath. When I finished, he let out one giant exhale. His shoulders curled into a protective hunch. “I knew he was innocent”, Pucey to himself; frowning at his polished leather shoes. 

Which… was an unexpected thing to say. “Have an interest in true crime, do you?” 

Raising his head, Pucey blinked at me. “What’s true crime?” 

Drumming my fingers on a desk, I let the moment pass. “So how was your Christmas?”

With school resumed and Scabbers officially gone, the last thing we needed to concern ourselves with was Quirrell… and a baby dragon, slaughtered unicorns, and the trials of the third-floor corridor. It was quite the list. 

George went over it during one of the rare moments were we had their dorm to ourselves. Should we have had this discussion over the holidays? Yes. But a break should be a break, and I wasn’t about to be the one who spoiled Christmas. 

“That makes it sound like we’ve hardly accomplished anything this year. I think, except for the baby dragon, we can summarize everything else under Quirrell”, said Fred. 

“Honestly, I don’t think we need to bother with the dragon at all”. Sitting on Fred’s bed, it was easy to keep both my brothers in sight. George leaned against the bedpost as Fred paced in front. “Ron won’t be in danger because he won’t get caught and sent to the Forbidden Forest like the others. It’ll be scary, but nothing will happen to Harry and Hermione. So, I think we only have to worry about the third-floor corridor”. 

George scratched his head as his eyes followed Fred. “Even if Harry and Hermione get caught out of bed, I’m not sure they’ll get sent to the Forbidden Forest. We’ve watched Black since Christmas. He was livid at Snape for just looking at Harry funny. Just imagine how he’d react if Harry had to search for dead unicorns”. 

Snorting, I rubbed my nose. “Unrelated. Sirius and Snape have history. They’d use any excuse to have a go at each other. I’m more concerned about the mirror. We never checked if Harry got the invisibility clock or if he discovered the mirror”. 

"So?" Asked George; turning to look in my direction. "It just means that Harry and Ron will have to sneak around after curfew like the rest of us. Easier too if we decide to keep them out of trouble".

"So?" I repeated George, my anxiety making me sound incredulous. “In the book, Harry finding the mirror over the break was just a way to introduce it to readers and help the plot progress. But what if it’s more related than it appears? Will Harry know how to use the mirror if it's his first time seeing it?”

Feet stilling, Fred did a half-turn to face us. His face bore a mask of contemplation. Something George and I were only used to seeing when Fred was about to make a breakthrough in one of their inventions. “Holls, can you go over what you remember about the third-floor corridor again?” 

Flopping backward onto the bed, I talked wth my face turned toward the ceiling. “First is Fluffy. Harry, Ron, and Hermione will get past it after playing a flute Hagrid gave Harry for Christmas… Or should have given him. Really, I should have been paying more attention. I mean-”

“Holly”, George reminded. 

With a sigh, I kept going. “ The trap down under Fluffy leads to a pit of Devil’s Snare. Hermione saves them by using Lumos. Then it’s the room with the flying keys. Harry handles that just fine. The next room is the-”

“Chess set”, the three of us spoke at the same time. The giant chess game was Ron's chance to shine after all. We had used Sirius’ frequent visits to ask Ron to play a lot of chess with us. Just in case 

“Ron wins the game by sacrificing himself. He’ll live but is left unconscious in the chamber until someone comes by to take him to the hospital wing”, I continued; scowling at the ceiling at the mere thought. “Then it's the troll. The same one from Halloween. But it’ll already be taken care of. So, Harry and Hermione won’t have to do anything”. 

"Second to the last obstacle is the potions riddle". George recalled; thumping the back of his head lightly against one of the bed posts. 

“Hermione solves it, but there’s only enough potion for one person to go through”. Which was bad news for us. Our options were to stop the golden trio or go with them. Maybe we could get away with locking Ron and Hermione in the tower and accompanying Harry ourselves. But that felt unlikely. If we did go with them, Harry would still have to progress by himself. So… other than making sure Ron didn’t get hurt, what was the point of us getting involved at all?

“And the mirror?” Pressed Fred. 

"Quirrell is already there when Harry reaches the mirror. That's when You-Know-Who is revealed. He'll tell Quirrell to use Harry to get the stone from the mirror. Harry looks into the mirror, and because he wants to get the stone but doesn't want to use it, the mirror releases it to him. It materializes in his pocket. He lies and doesn't let on that he has it".

I meant to go on about how You-Know-Who will know Harry lied; resulting in Quirrell attacking Harry. How Harry touches Quirrell's face. And because of his mother's protection, Harry turns Quirrell into dust. Then there is also the part where You-Know-Who leaves Quirrell's destroyed body and flies at Harry. And how Harry survives only because he has the philosopher's stone on his person. 

But Fred zeroed in on a detail that George and I hadn’t considered. "So Quirrell and You-Know-Who can't get the stone from the mirror?"

"Yes," I said slowly. Not sure where he his confusion rested. "They can't get it because they want to use it".

However, George stopped thumbing his head against the bedpost. He stood up straight. “Meaning the stone is safe. As long as it is in the mirror, Quirrell won’t be able to get his grubby hands on it”. 

Fred nodded as I pushed myself up by my elbows to watch them. “We don’t need to help Ron and friends get through the corridor. We need to make sure they never leave the tower”. 

Wrinling my nose, my head tilted to the side. “But then we won’t be able to stop Quirrell. Without Harry-”

"Holly, you said Quirrell and You-Know-Who can't get the stone out of the mirror", Fred started to explain.

"Without Harry, there's no one to get the stone. Quirrell will be stuck and all of us will be safe in Gryffindor tower", finished George

…Huh. I was flummoxed. It was like having an epiphany and an existential crisis at the same time. Pretty much, Fred and George were saying the climax to the Philosopher's Stone was completely avoidable and essentially pointless. I forced myself to exhale, and it ended up sounding like a wheeze. It's like I could feel Jessie's childhood crumbling away.

Letting their idea sink in, I moved to sit at the edge of Fred's bed. As if having my feet touch the floor would be enough to allow me to think this through. It was just… so simple. Essentially, this meant, other than keeping an eye on the first-years, we were done for the year. 

There was nothing to do. No impending threat. And there wouldn’t be until Tom Riddle’s diary made an appearance. It sounded like the perfect plan. All except for one piece that needed consideration. 

Naturally, I had to be the one to pose the question. "What about Quirrell? He'll have to be discovered somehow. Just to make sure we aren't sharing the school with You-Know-Who next year". Just imagine if Quirrell and his guest were still around next year. What would You-Know-Who do if his soul fragment opened the Chamber of Secrets while in his vicinity? 

Fred ran a hand over his hair as he started pacing again. “We can try to expose him. Knock off his turban, maybe”. 

“It’d have to be in the Great Hall or somewhere the other teachers will see”, I added. 

“But…” George trailed off; catching both our eyes before continuing. “Are we sure Quirrell will make it to next year? I mean…” 

We hung our heads as we thought. At the start of the new term, our first class had been defense. While our classmates were rosy-cheeked and excitedly talking about their holiday, Quirrell had resembled a withering eggplant that was fighting a bad bout of the flu. His skin was sickly pale. There were bags under his eyes. Quirrell’s hands tremored, and he seemed to wobble any time he stood up from his chair. 

Between him and You-Know-Who, there just wasn’t enough life force to sustain them both. My foot tapped against the wood floor. “The unicorn blood will prolong it for a bit, but… I don’t think it’ll work into next year. At least, not to the point where Quirrell will be able to teach”. 

And we were already starting to feel the effects of Quirrell’s dwindling life. In an academic sense, that is to say. Quirrell hadn’t assigned any new homework. And the work we’d done before break still hadn’t been graded and returned. Students were starting to talk as different years exchanged stories. Apparently, the fifth and seventh years were beside themselves. Not feeling confident about their upcoming defense exams at all. 

“Let’s try”, Fred said after a moment. “I don’t think it’ll make a difference, but-”

“Maybe Quirrell can be put out of his misery before-”

“His condition worsens”. I finished our sentence; leaving the three of us to exist in silence for a short while. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Gryffinder Vs. Hufflepuff

As the new term progressed, so did the melting of the snow. It wasn’t as powdery and thick anymore. If you went on a walk through the grounds, you were no longer treading through a blanket of white. But, in more shadowed parts of Hogwarts, it wasn’t impossible to find a good patch. Take the transfiguration courtyard, for example. 

A head-sized snowball got catapulted in Angelina’s direction. A quick jump to the side solved the problem, and the only thing the snowball came in contact with was the large tree in the center of the courtyard. 

“Lee”, Angelina seethed as she grabbed two snowballs from the pile Alicia was making. Unlike the boys, ours was an appropriate size and easier to throw. Waiting until she spotted a braided head peaking out from behind a large stone planter, Angelina lobbed the snowballs in two consecutive overhand throws. For a brief moment, her arms resembled pinwheels. Though I suppose throwing a snowball had a lot less weight to it than throwing a quaffle. 

Lee let out a yelp that told us his voice hadn’t fully dropped yet; ducking out of sight before he got a face full of snow. “I’ll keep Lee pinned down”, Angelina decided as she grabbed two more snowballs. “Alicia will stay on snow production. That means it’s Holly’s job to find Fred and George. 

“Roger!” I offered a mock salute as my eyes started scanning the courtyard. I turned my body in full circles as I searched. There were advantages and disadvantages to using the tree as our home base. On one hand, no wall at our backs meant it was harder to keep us contained. On the other hand, attacks could come from any angle. 

The surrounding square-shaped, covered pathway didn’t help either. A popular part of the castle and home to two classrooms, many passed through every day. Today’s lunch break hadn’t ended yet, but already students were heading to their next class; glancing into the courtyard and pausing to watch as three-fifths of the Gryffindor third years pelted each other with snow.   

Under normal circumstances, the audience would make me beg Alicia to change jobs with me. Especially when I spotted Pcuey walk by with Stimpson and others from his house. At the sight of Angelina’s furious attack and the sound of Lee’s battle cry, Stimpson stuck her nose into the air. “How childish!” She said shrilly enough that we could hear. 

A flash of red and blue hats ducking behind a snow bank caught my eye. The snow bank was one of many that Filch tended to make to keep the snow off the pathways. You know, so they didn’t turn into icy slip-n-slides of death. 

Retrieving my wand from my right pocket, I stared at the snow bank; unblinking. “Depulso!” I said, making a quick sweep with my wand and sending a bright yellow light shooting straight toward it. 

“Alicia! I need more snowballs!” Angelina shouted behind me. “Hurry! Lee’s making another giant one!” 

With Angelina’s and Alicia’s efforts focused elsewhere, they didn’t get to see the snow back explode into bits. It crumbled over the two wizards hiding behind it and spilled onto the walkway. Innocent spectators had to jump out of the way. Those who weren’t quick enough were rewarded with their shoes being covered with little bits of snow. 

“Ugh”, I could hear a few complaining as their friends laughed at their expense. 

Fred and George, as intended, suffered the worst of it. When they uncovered themselves, their hats were rimmed with snow as it stuck to the fabric. Already, wet spots were forming on the shoulders of their robes. Even at a distance, I could make out bits of it clinging to their skin. Despite the importance of this snowball fight, there was no stopping the snickering that wormed its way free. 

“Jolly Holly”, Fred scolded; jumping to his feet and placing his hands on his hips in his best impression of Mum. “That’s playing dirty!” Naturally, this was just a ploy to distract me from what George was doing. 

Sinking into a duel stance, I kept my wand raised. “Maybe I should try glacious next”. Only for a sudden downpour of snow to shower down upon me. 

“Lee! That’s why a giant snowball doesn’t work!” Angelina yelled. 

“Here! That should be enough. Let’s get him before he can regroup with the others”, said Alicia. Focused as they were, Angelina and Alicia didn’t get to witness the horror of a multitude of snowballs rising off the ground and floating menacingly. 

“Uh…” I tried to form words. 

“If you get to use magic, so do we!” Came George’s voice from wherever he was concealing himself. No doubt, his expression matched the victorious, murderous grin Fred was sporting. 

Quickly, my eyes stole glances at where the door to Quirrell’s classroom stood. And… Yes, the teacher in question was out of his room and eyeing us warily like most of the student body. Forcing resolve, I lowered my wand and nervously gulped. “Run!” I yelled to Alicia and Angelina as I turned tail and fled. 

“What?” Angelina called after me as if I had insulted her. “Run? Never! Only cowards retreat!” 

Fred and George’s snowballs were already flying forward at alarming speeds. Angelina’s indignation quickly changed to a squawk of icy coldness as Alici rolled to get the tree between her and my brothers. 

A few hit me on my back and dampened my robes further as I made a beeline for Quirrell. From behind the large, stone planter, Lee popped up with his hands clenched into fists and raised above his head. “Yes! Freedom!” Only to get a face full of snowball when one went astray and hit him full on. 

“Professor!” I shouted; skidding to a halt in front of Quirrell as my feet scrambled to find traction on the stone walkway. Quirrell jerked back at my sudden approach. Eyes wide, his hands twitched and darted toward his pockets. “Quickly. Teach me the shield charm. Before it’s too late!” 

“M-m-miss W-Weasley!” Quirrell forced out. If he meant it to be a warning or the beginnings of a scolding, the stammering made him highly ineffectual. 

It was hard to turn away from Quirrell. Or rather, You-Know-Who. But I had to play the part. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes widened in horror at the obscene amount of snowballs zooming closer and closer. If the transfiguration courtyard rested on a decline, I’d argue that this barrage counted as an avalanche. 

“Hurry, Professor!” I tried again; backing up and way from the approaching snow. The students who had been walking in Quirrell’s vicinity had already fled; clutching their possessions close and keeping their heads down. Slowly, I started inching away as well.

“M-miss Weasley!” Quirrell tried again. But between my hasty retreat and the fleeing of others, Quirrell’s eyes were soon fixed on the looming threat right in front of him. His mouth turned slack-jawed as the trembling in his hands increased. 

“Bugger! Out of time”, I cursed as I started running again. This time, sticking to the walkway as I hurried to join the students watching at a safe distance. 

The first snowball smacked against Quirrell’s covered forehead. For prosperity, naturally, Fred and George made sure Quirrell’s entire person was pelted. As evident by his dancing feet and swinging arms as Quirrell fought to block himself. But the majority were concentrated on the turban. 

“S-stop!” Quirrell cried as I scrambled behind a random seventh-year Hufflepuff who was too busy whispering with a classmate to notice that I was using him as a human shield. 

Eventually, the man turned his back to the attack to prevent any more snowballs from hitting him in the face. Which meant… Fred and George were now having a snowball fight with You-Know-Who’s face. Biting my bottom lip, I clocked McGonagall as she hurried out of her classroom on the other side of the courtyard. 

Quirrell’s hands flew up to hold onto his turban as soon as it became dislodged. The fabric of it turned heavy from all the dampness and threatened to droop off his head like a soaked towel. Come on, I begged inwardly; watching with bated breath. 

“That is enough!” McGonagall shouted. Her ire and obvious disappointment were enough to send the spectators hurrying to get out of range as the remaining snowballs fell to the ground in a series of harmless splats. 

Shivering and looking like he might cry, Quirrell slowly turned around. Two hands still holding his turban on, Quirrell opened and closed his mouth as he watched McGonagall castigate Fred and George. “It is the middle of the school day! Not only did you disrespect your peers' time with this nonsense, but you used magic against a member of staff!” 

“But Professor, it was only a game”, complained Fred. He didn’t have to fake how disgruntled he sounded. The sight of Quirrell, unexposed, racing back into his classroom was more than enough to evoke such a feeling. 

“How were we supposed to know Holly would run for a teacher!” Argued George. 

“Thirty points from Gryffindor”, McGonagall declared. Her face fumed with such intensity that most were unable to look at her.

“Thirty?” Fred asked in disbelief. 

“Five for each of you”. McGonagall’s head turned in the direction of the big tree. “Spinnet, Jordan, and Johnson, do not think I have forgotten about you three. And Miss Weasley, wherever she is hiding. Now! I advise you lot go see Madam Pomfrey for a pepperup potion and then get to class. Honestly! Frolicking in the snow like that. Do you want to catch your deaths?” 

Many rainy days followed Fred and George’s failed plan. And with it, the last of the snow melted. Quite a few shivered and let out breaths of relief as spring was just a little bit closer. However, I think I preferred the snow to the mud. 

With the Gryffindor's quidditch match against Hufflepuff quickly approaching, Wood had increased quidditch practice from three times a week to four. Something Percy applauded him for, because it lessened the number of opportunities Fred and George had to get into trouble. But that meant, during the evening hours before the House-elves could clean, the carpets in Gryffindor common room were caked with mud. It got tracked in on people's shoes. But our quidditch players were always the most guilty because the mud ended up in their hair and on their robes. A pure consequence of all the drills Wood made them run. Rain or shine. 

Initially, everyone complained. “I’m tired of my hands pruning, Wood”, said Alicia as she held her hands up for the quidditch captain to inspect. “How do you expect me to catch the quaffle if my hands are all shriveled up!” 

But their protests died out when Wood let it slip that the next match would be refereed by Snape. “Madam Hooch will be visiting her sister in St. Mungos”, Wood tried to explain; missing it when Fred and George scoffed. Since I had informed them otherwise. Then, every member of the Gryffindor team was gung-ho about practice. They had to play a clean game. A record-breaking fast game. Just to limit Snape’s chances of sabotage as much as possible. 

With Fred and George distracted, there was even less of a chance of them noticing my extracurriculars. So, Pucey and I managed to schedule an extra “occulumeny” lesson for the week. 

A black knight slid in the appropriate pattern across the board before coming into contact with my bishop. Using its javelin, the knight impaled my bishop; causing its little marble body to shatter. Frowning, I tried not to be bothered when my king turned around on the board to yell at me, “You idiot! I told you that would happen”. 

Sitting across from me in our favorite, unused classroom, Pucey waited for the knight to stop moving before asking, “Are you even trying?” 

“Don’t be smug”, I said; pointing a finger at Pucey in warning. “You’re the one who just had to bring their chess set. I was fine with exploding snap”. 

Pucey’s upper lip pulled back. “Such a repetitive, boring game”. 

“It’s not boring. There’re explosions. What is boring is chess”. 

This insult was too much for my pieces. Every one of them turned around in their squares to shake a marble fist at me. My king went as far as to shout, “Now, you listen here, you little whippersnapper!” 

But a quick flick of Pucey’s wand silenced them. “If you want a real challenge, you have to play my brother, Ron”, I told Pucey; leaning against the backrest of my wooden chair. “Ron’s never studied. He doesn’t know what a Sicilian defense is. But he seems to be a natural. Percy wants him to join the school chess club. But Ron’s afraid Fred and George will tease him for it”. 

Chess game forgotten, Pucey leaned back and crossed his arms. “And when will I be allowed to challenge your younger brother to chess?” 

I froze; staring at Pucey in question. 

“Weasley, we’ve been meeting like this since November. I would prefer it if I could sit with you in the library or talk to you outside of class without having you worry about Thing One’s and Thing Two’s opinions”. 

“Oh, so you don’t want to meet here anymore?” Moving my hands, I hid them on my lap so Pucey could see as they twisted and pulled at the hem of my blouse. 

“That’s not what I said”, Pucey started to say before sighing and choosing different words. “Don’t you tire of it? All these expectations and house rivalries? It’s foolish. We won’t be Gryffindors and Slytherins forever. 

“My father was a Ravenclaw. My mother was in Slytherin before she transferred to Beauxbatons. Father didn’t spare a thought about Mother’s time as a Slytherin when they got married. So, I don’t see why you can’t tell your brothers you want to be friends with me. Why isn’t a Gryffindor brave enough to be seen associating with the likes of me?” Pucey spoke passionately. It hinted at many possible scenarios where his house had been held against him.   

With a shake of my head, I tried to clear my thoughts. “Look, our situation is a little too Capulet and Montague for my tastes. As much as I enjoy your view that the animosity between Gryffindors and Slytherins is overdone, I’m not ready to enter into a suicide pact with you”. 

Pucey’s expression became absolutely owlish. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about? Suicide?”

With a heavy sigh, I raised a hand to placate him. “None of my references ever work”, I muttered to myself; wishing we could just go back to chess. “I thought, during Hogsmeade, we could do it. Be okay with each other and ignore everyone else. But then you got me alone in that secluded area-”

“For privacy”. 

“-and started interrogating me about the attack, and my past life-”

“I did no such thing!”

“And it scared me!” 

Raising my volume to match Pucey’s seemed to do the trick. At the admittance, we both fell quiet. Using the moment to breathe in through our mouths and out through our noses. 

“That wasn’t my intention”, Pucey assured me. Both his voice and his eyes had lowered. 

My heart rate had sped up. But not in the sense that I was expecting something to leap out at me. More like when you go for a run. It was easier to stare at my hands than to make eye contact. “The last time someone got me alone like that…” I had to stop; forced to take a deep breath as I suppressed a memory of dirt floors. “A past life is too personal and too painful to talk about. That part of me is dead, and I don’t want to… be that person anymore”. 

“I understand”. 

“So, when you started asking questions and saying that I was good at pretending to be a schoolgirl… Well, Fred and George keep bad things from happening to me. My mum and dad never expected there was anything off about me because I had Fred and George to copy”. Of course, in full truth, the night terrors were a thing that concerned Mum and Dad greatly. But I digress. 

“I know they can be pigheaded, narrow-minded, and sometimes they take a joke too far… okay, that happens often. But Fred and George are the only reason this world makes any sense at all! You asked why I wasn’t brave enough to do what I want. And honestly, I’m not brave. I know I’m not. The sorting hat probably only put me in Gryffindor because I asked it to. Because I needed to be with Fred and George”.

Pucey shifted in his chair; paying no attention to the chess pieces who had silently been watching our discussion as if it were a tennis match. “That’s it then? You’re going to do everything Thing one and Thing two want, so you can keep hiding behind them?” 

My face flushed as I scowled down at the chess pieces. Did these things have any type of memory? Would they remember it and gossip about it with another set’s pawns? “No. Not forever. But right now, I’m… I’m not ready. I’m not going to risk my family”, I answered mournfully. 

Despite a muscle in Pucey’s jaw visibly throbbing, he uncrossed his arms and held himself in a relaxed posture. He was looking at me, but it honestly felt like he was seeing something else entirely. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. No one should”. 

Playing with the joint on my left pinky finger, I took a few breaths. My heart rate slowed, and I felt… Not better, but encouraged. “Can we stay like this for the rest of the year? I talk with my brothers over the summer. Test the water”. 

Pucey gave a small, agreeing nod, and I offered a smile in return. “In the meantime, there is the quidditch match this Saturday. Lee’s commentating. Fred, George, and my friends are all on the team. Percy will be busy with prefect duties and Clearwater. I’m going to sit with Ron and his friend, but he’ll be too distracted by the game to notice much of anything”. 

Raising one eyebrow, Pucey prompted me to continue. I did so with a more mischievous turn of my lips. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop a Slytherin from sitting close to me in the stands”. 

Pucey returned my look with his own brand of mischief. “When you say you asked the sorting hat to place you in Gryffindor, what other houses had it been considering?” 

“Mr. Pucey, I do not like what you’re insinuating”. I sat with mockingly good posture. Our chess game remained untouched. “I still have your scarf, by the way. The one you lent me in Hogsmeade”.   

Despite following Ron and Hermione into the stands, the two barely spared me a glance as we found our seats. In fact, Neville was more sociable as he offered a shy greeting. And by that, I mean that he managed one stilted word, “Hi”. 

Good Merlin, I thought; sitting with my hand in my chin as I watched Ron and Hermione talk with their heads bent together in voices too quiet to overhear. There was only a two-year difference between me and Ron. That wasn’t a big difference. Not enough to be ignored like an embarrassing older sister that he didn’t want to be seen with! 

What happened? After Bill and Charlie, I was usually the preferred sibling. Was it because Fred and George weren’t here to paint me in a better light? 

“I know! Don’t nag”. Ron suddenly said at his regular volume. I raised an eyebrow, watching as Hermione glared at him as the stands started to fill around and behind me. Wow. It was kind of like getting a premonition of the future. 

A pinched-faced, greasy blond slid into the spot on my right. His two goons sat behind Hermione and Neville on the other side as I eyed him suspiciously. Malfoy existing behind my little brother… I didn’t like it. 

To make matters worse, a shoulder pressed against mine on my left. Turning my head, I got a good look at Pucey as he settled down for the match; fixing the collar of his warmest cloak and taking stock of the players entering the field.

“I’ve never seen Snape look so evil”, said Ron, his eyes fixated on the quidditch pitch. His back facing me, Ron didn’t get to see the abject horror on my face as I came to the realization that a sea of green had surrounded us. 

On Pucey’s other side, I recognized Miles Bletchley. Twisting around, I spotted Flint and the other Slytherin chaser directly behind. And on either side of them were their seeker and their beaters. The whole Slytherin team was here! Flint had time to offer a toothy sneer before I returned my focus to Pucey with a glower. 

Pucey returned my look with an all-knowing one. “Weasley”, he greeted in a low murmur. “You should’ve dressed warmer”. 

“Brought the whole team, did you?” 

“We always watch the matches together. It is a way to learn about the competition”. 

“And the first years just decided to tag along?” 

“Future team prospects. Flint trains them young”. 

Behind us, Flint made a dying mandrake sound that I suspected was his version of laughing. Huffing, I shoved my hands into my jean pockets and turned back to the match. Snape had already released the bludgers and Snitch. “It’s a shame. If Professor Snape had refereed our match against Gryffindor, Slytherin would have won”, Bletchley said to Pucey. 

“Snape would have helped you cheat, you mean”, I blurted out before I could stop myself. Naturally, this was an excellent time for George to fly past on his broom as he whacked a bludger to change its direction; sending it hurtling toward Snape. 

“Did you say something, Weasley?” Flint asked from behind me as Pucey knocked his knee against mine. 

Snape had already sent up sparks from his wand to signify a foul. The groans in the crowd were clear enough, but Jordan was being slow to comment from his spot in the teachers’ stands. “An excellent shot from one of the Weasleys. He made it look easy. Artful, even. But at last, that slimy-”

“Jordon!”  

“Professor Snape has rewarded Hufflepuff a penalty for unsportsmanlike behavior”. 

From my right, Malfoy leaned forward. Two fingers stretched out, he reached for Ron. “Ouch!” Malfoy retreated; bending over his lap to clutch at his shoe-encased foot. 

“Oh. Sorry, Malfoy. Was that your foot?” I asked as Pucey let out an unsurprised sigh from my left. It was a better sound than Flint’s breathless cackle. 

“Yes!” Malfoy spat as he scowled up at me from his hunched-over position. “It was my foot, you clumsy, filthy-”

“Malfoy! Mind yourself”, Flint barked from behind.

Almost instantaneously, Malfy snapped up into an upright posture. He spared me one seething look of spite, but said nothing as he directed himself to the match once more. I couldn’t help it. I found myself glancing over my shoulder to stare at Flint in suspicion. What the ever-loving hell was happening? 

Flint didn’t share my look. His attention remained steadfast on the match taking place on the pitch. Rolling my shoulders nervously, I turned back around to feign watching the match. In actuality, I leaned in Pucey’s direction. “What just happened?” I whispered. 

Without looking away from the pitch as Snape sent up more sparks to reward Hufflepuff another penalty, Pucey whispered back, “A pureblood witch is to be treated like a lady until she is married or deemed a spinster. It is her married name, or lack of one, that will determine if she’s a blood traitor”. 

I could feel the incredulousness of the expression that etched onto my face. “Utter tripe”, I hissed as another round of groans from the student spectators drowned me out. 

“Is it?” Pucey challenged. “Our society cannot survive without witches”. 

“You mean society can’t survive without uteruses”. 

The look Pucey threw in my direction was one containing both shock and rebuke as Lee’s commentary reached the stands and further cast a negative vibe amongst the spectators. “And Hufflepuff is rewarded another penalty for absolutely no reason. Someone should penalize Snape for being a barmy, greasy-”

“Jordon!” 

“Just stating a fact, Professor”. 

Gryffindors were unhappy for obvious reasons. But the Hufflepuffs were equally dissatisfied. They weren’t the sort who could feel elated from a false victory. Before Jordan cancelled out whatever was allowing his voice to project, a hearty laugh could be heard. “You tell them, Mr. Jordan. Snivellus is a barmy, greasy-”

“Black! You’re raising a child now. Don’t you dare condone this behavior!” McGonagall could be heard before the broadcast was finally cut off. 

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Pucey’s head snapped in the direction of the teachers’ stand. He held his eyes wide and searching as he scanned the faces of our teachers. He wasn’t the only one. On the pitch, Snape had paused in his refereeing duties as he snarled and sneered in the direction of where the insulting nickname had sounded from. Conveniently missing it when a Hufflepuff chaser handed the quaffle over to Alicia as if passing the bread basket at the dinner table. No doubt trying to even the playing field. 

Sitting between Dumbledore and McGonagall was Sirius Black. Even from a distance, I could make out his shaggy, unkept mane of black hair. “He’s thin”, muttered Pucey in a way that made me suspect that he hadn’t intended to say anything at all. I stared at Pucey imploringly. But he never looked away from the teachers’ stands. Almost as if he couldn’t. 

“I think everyone on the Gryffindor team was chosen because someone felt sorry for them”, Malfoy piped up before I could whisper a question into Pucey’s ear. “Potter has no parents. The Weasleys have no money. Maybe you should join the team, Longbottom. You have no brains!” 

Despite Flint’s earlier intervention, this comment resulted in a round of cackles from the entire Slytherin team. Except Pucey, that is. Who was still staring at Sirius Black; acting like he was a muggle who had stumbled upon a ghost. Evidently, it was only pureblood girls who could receive a reprieve for Slytherin insults. 

Neville jerked around to face Malfoy. His face had turned cherry tomato red as he stood with his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m worthy twelve of you, Malfoy”, Neville forced out, nearly closing his eyes as his words sounded jilted and rushed. 

Malfoy and cronies through back their heads and howled their amusement. They were so loud that the sinister chuckling of their upperclassmen was easy to ignore. Neville looked like he was holding his breath. There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes.

Hermione didn’t seem to notice as she and Ron only had eyes for Harry, who was making speedy loops around the pitch; twisting his head in every direction. That didn’t stop Ron from speaking louder than Malfoy’s laughter. “That’s right, Neville! You tell that prat what’s what”. 

Nostrils flaring unpleasantly, Malfoy sneered. “I’ll tell you what’s what, Longbottom. If someone could pay you your brain’s weight in gold, you’d be broke. But still not as bad off as the Weasleys!”

Whatever strange true crime trance Pucey was in, that broke him out of it. He grabbed my hand before I could interject. Leaving me to naw on my bottom lip as I watched Ron spin around. He bore the promise of a storm on his freckled face as he stared Malfoy down. “One more word, Malfoy. Just one more-”

“Ron! Look!” Hermione called. Promptly cueing Ron to abandon Malfoy in favor of watching Harry make a sudden, lurching dive out of the air.

“Potter has seen the snitch!” Lee roared over the sounds of cheering 

“That’s my godson!” Sirius bragged; his voice reached every corner of the pitch. 

But, of course, Malfoy refused to be ignored. “If you ask me, the only way the Weasley family will see any wealth is if they manage to sell off their daughters. But who’d waste money on that?” Ron’s ears were turning red as Harry hurtled past Snape, only inches from his head. Hermione had stood up as she cheered Harry on. And the only thing keeping me in my seat was Pucey’s restraining hand. “Look at who their mother is. Dressed like a house-elf, fat, and-”

Surprising Malfoy and I both, Ron pivoted and lunged like a large cat going for the kill. He leaped over the bench and sent Malfoy toppling onto the feet of the Slytherins behind him in a mad entanglement of flailing limbs. 

For a beat too long, I stared open-mouthed as Ron wailed on Malfoy. His fist flew in a wild flurry, and each resulted in an indignant, pained yelp from the blond. As far as I could tell, Malfoy was only getting one or two blows in. 

Like me, Crabbe and Goyle were taken aback by the display just as much as I was. They peered down at Malfoy being pinned by my brother as if they couldn’t fathom how they had gotten there. Now, the older Slytherins were truly laughing; taking no sides as they witnessed the scuffle. All except Pucey, who, once I snapped out of it, stopped me from intervening with a punishing grip on my hand. 

“Your brother has the right. If you step in now, you’ll only embarrass him”, Pucey said into my ear. Though at a normal volume. There was no need to whisper. No one was paying attention to us as Crabbe and Goyle tried to come to Malfoy’s aid. Only to get sidetracked by Neville clambering to join the fight… bit of foreshadowing right there. The rest of the Slytherins were watching them. While Hermione and the rest of the student body were too busy cheering and shouting as Harry caught the snitch. 

“He’s done it!” Lee’s voice announced as Hermione started jumping up and down. “In only five minutes, Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!” 

“That’s my godson!” Sirius could be heard in the background. 

My head throbbed with an incoming headache. “I bloody hate quidditch”.  

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Confrontation

Already brimming with disdain, being required to set foot in the arithmancy classroom was making my mood plummet more than it already had. A week had passed since that five-minute quidditch game. A completely disastrous week that made me contemplate dropping out of school. Maybe I’d take Mum up on her offer to homeschool me after all. 

The classroom was starting to fill as my classmates squeezed past me to enter; sending either annoyed or worried looks as they passed. An angry Weasley triplet, after all, usually meant explosions, flying smelly and colorful substances, or an unplanned and temporary remodeling of Hogwarts’ hallways. But you know… I wasn’t the one they needed to be concerned about. The girl triplet. What was her name again?  

Pucey was already unpacked at the front of the room in our usual seats. My spot by my favorite window remained unclaimed. Lips pressed into a thin line, I clenched the strap of my bookbag as tightly as I could. How unfortunate that my usual spot wasn’t an option today. 

A quick scan of the room helped me find one of the few remaining seats. Stalking forward, grumbling under my breath, I kept to the back of the room. “Hi, Diggory. Is this seat taken?” I forced out as the Hufflepuff looked up from this textbook at my interruption. “No? I’ll join you today”, I said before Diggory could answer. 

The action of letting my book bag fall from my shoulder to the floor seemed louder than it had in the past as I dropped onto the chair next to Diggory. “Uh…” Diggory gaped at me as I pulled out my textbook and something to write with.

“How do you see from back here?” I complained; straightening my spine as much as I could and leaning left and right to try to find the best view. 

“Um…”

As the classroom door closed, Pucey twisted around in his seat; searching the room. When his eyes found me, Pucey frowned. It was a look I matched with a scathing glare. “Um… Are you okay?” Diggory asked as he shifted his eyes back and forth; acting as the referee to Pucey’s and my staring contest. 

“Peachy”, I said when Pucey broke first. Shaking his head, he turned back around just in time for Professor Vector to sweep to the front of the room. 

“Alright, boys and girls, the warm-up is on the blackboard. When you are finished, you may review Tuesday’s problem sets with your seatmate. We’ll come together after everyone has had a chance to discuss”. As soon as she finished her piece, Professor Vector started her rounds; checking in with each student one at a time. 

The sounds of quills scratching against parchment filled the classroom as we attempted to decipher a series of numbers correlating to the letters they were attached to. I always started by looking for the number nine. Since only two letters were affiliated instead of the standard three. Except, today that is. 

“You know what? No! I’m not okay”. Throwing down my quill, I turned fully in my seat to talk to Diggory. “Why do we do that? Why do people say they’re okay when they’re not?” 

“Uh…” The poor boy panicked; quill stilling. Before today, I think the only things I’ve said to him have been ‘excuse me’ and ‘see you in class’. -+

“It was awful, Diggory. I’ve never seen them so mad… well, mad at me. It actually isn’t that hard to ignite their tempers, but Percy is the usual culprit. I never let it get that bad. But this time, I’m angry too. Livid actually. They didn’t have to barge in already yelling and their wands sparking. I was going to tell them everything. Just… when I was ready. What’s so wrong about that?!” 

“Um…”, Diggory anxiously searched the classroom. As if anyone would be able to save him. “Who are you talking about?”

“Fred and George. Pucey, too. Actually. I’m equally disgusted with him”. Hunching my shoulders, I picked up my quill and turned back to the warm-up. There was only one 9 in the whole lot. At the very end. Whomever these numbers belonged to, their totals were looking pretty good. 

Professor Vector wandered by the back desks Diggory and I occupied. Other than a quick inquiry about any questions we may have, she said nothing. 

“So, um…” Diggory set down his quill, his warm-up finished. “What did you get for problem six on the homework?” 

Sighing, I pushed aside my completed warm-up. “Okay, Diggory. I’ll tell you how it all went down”. 

“No. That’s not…”

“To start, Pucey and I had an arrangement. Since the Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor match, we’ve been meeting after arithmancy. Obviously, I didn’t tell my brothers about this because they told me not to talk to Pucey”. 

“That’s… unkind of them. Now, about the-”

“They don’t want me talking to him because during October’s Hogsmeade weekend, Pucey said something insensitive that made me cry. But that’s in the past. I let that go. Fred and George haven’t. Of course, Pucey is also a Slytherin, which means they’ve never liked him. Even co-existence seems to be a challenge most days. 

“Anyway, it happened like this…

Entering the usual empty classroom, Pucey and I headed for the desk we had cleaned off and moved to sit under one of the windows. I made quick work of slipping my book bag off my shoulder. “Okay, I have to know. What was up with that quidditch match? I mean, you brought the whole Slytherin team”. 

Pucey shrugged. A motion that felt slightly unnatural for him. “I told you at the match. The Slytherin team always watches the matches together. Besides, it also provided a cover for your secrecy. You were sitting with your little brother. I was with my team. We just happened to sit next to each other”. Sitting opposite of me, Pucey stared back as I shook my head at him. 

“And Malfoy?” 

“I was telling the truth. Malfoy’s father is petitioning Flint to allow Malfoy to join the team next year. Malfoy accompanying us to the match was necessary for…business”. 

“Business”. I parrotted back; blinking rapidly at the ludiciousness of it all. “It’s quidditch. School quidditch. I… He gave Ron a bloody nose”. 

The left corners of Pucey’s lips twitched upward; looking a bit too satisfied for the context. “And your brother gave Malfoy a black eye. Flint got to yell at him for losing a fight he started. It made Flint’s day”. 

Raising my hands, palms facing Pucey, I made two identical gestures. Clearly, there was something here I didn’t understand. Why would Flint enjoy ripping Malfoy a new one? Pucey sounded like he was glad Ron had gotten a few good hits in. “Flint was strange too. He stopped Malfoy from insulting me and… I swear, that whole match, it felt like he was watching us”. 

Pcuey rubbed his forehead; paying extra attention to the spot between his two eyebrows. “He finds you amusing. Or the concept of you amusing”, Pucey amended. Probably realizing that I had never said a single word to Flint. 

“Excuse me?” There was no hiding the disbelief in my voice. 

“You’re different from the rest of your family”, Pucey explained; unaware of how much that comment stung. “More like your prefect brother. Only less… rule-following. When you’re not standing next to Thing One and Thing Two, it’s sometimes hard to believe you are a Gryffindor”. 

Groaning, I buried my face in my hands as Pucey continued. 

“For three years, you’ve been my potions partner without complaint. You don’t look at us, Slytherins, I mean, with suspicion when we pass in the halls. You don’t suddenly change directions or go down a different hall to avoid us. You’re never as loud as your brothers. The only Slytherin you’ve targeted is Stimpson, but that is to be expected”. 

“Why?” I questioned. Why am I getting the sense that Pucey and his… friends have had discussions about me? ME! Of all people. Outside of a small handful of people, most probably didn’t remember my first name. Ask a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or seventh-year Gryffindor. To them, I was just the ‘other’ Weasley triplet. 

It was Pucey’s turn to stare at me with disbelief. As if I shouldn’t need to ask. “Because Stimpson is your competition… Since you appear mailable against your family’s stance, it’s given a few Slytherins … has your mother not discussed any of this with you?”

I wanted to throw up my hands. “Explain what?” 

Pcuey’s brow wrinkled as he took one fortifying breath. “Alright. To produce pure-blood children, a husband and wife must both be pure-bloods”. 

“I’m not stupid, Pucey. Why would my mum need to explain that? Anyone with a lick of sense could work that out for themselves!” 

Lifting a placating hand, Pucey kept going. “However, in the last few generations, it's been… most witches from the ancient and noble houses only seem to be producing one or two children, and mostly sons. The girls who have been born are your little brother’s age or younger. So… many of our parents are worried about our futures”. 

“What you said at the match, about all pureblood girls being treated like ladies until they’re married”, I said, shoved somewhere between irritation and dumbfoundness. 

Pucey nodded grimly. “It’s unwise to insult a pureblood girl because that could be an important ally’s future wife”. 

“Oh, Merlin!” I left the desk and started pacing the length of the floor; chewing on my thumbnail as I thought about all that was implicated. From what Pucey was telling me, I may have been born to a family of blood traitors. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron all got to be blood traitors by affiliation. But I wouldn’t get that badge of honor. Not until I proved myself to be useless to those pure blooded pricks!  

“The Weasley name has been unpopular since before either of us was born. But you’re still a member of the sacred twenty-eight. And your mother has eight children. All healthy and so far, all magical. You have a sister at home, yes?”

“That’s disgusting!"

“... Whoever is offered your hand won’t have to go abroad and learn a new language to find a wife. With six brothers, you are not an heiress, so there is nothing to worry about concerning lines of succession. Paired with your parents’... financial difficulty, a bride price would most likely be manageable. So-”

“A bride price! My mum and dad would never agree to something like that!”

“-So, you do hold a level of appeal to other pure-blood families. More so than other pure-blood girls not in the same social circle”. Pucey fell silent; watching as I paced up and down the length of two desks. Every once in a while, I’d mutter something under my breath and give a furious shake of my head. This felt gross. Borderline violating. 

“And your mother hasn’t talked to you about this at all?” Pucey had to ask. 

“Why would she?” My robes swished around my ankles as I abruptly turned to face him. “She doesn’t have a say in who I marry. We don’t care about pure blood”. 

Pucey sighed as if the admittance pained him, and I was left with the sudden urge to hex him. “Weasley, you should care. You should be thinking about this. The right match for your family could mean your parents could one day retire. If you agree to an arrangement, your sister’s prospects will likely improve. You would be taken care of. There’s nothing wrong with following tradition”. 

“Tradition”, I spat; placing my hands on my hips and scowling. “Is that what we’re doing here? Is that what we were doing at Hogsmeade?”

Pucey refused to shift in his seat or give me any sign that this topic was making him uncomfortable. Instead, the stubborn git folded his arms and stared back. “I find you preferable, and I believe I’ve made my intentions clear”. 

“Merlin’s beard on toast!” I threw my hands up in the air and resumed pacing. “We’re third-years. What third-year is thinking about marriage? Our only concern should be homework! These fake occulumency lessons are supposed to be fun. Hogsmeade was supposed to be fun. None of which describes an engagement! You and I are just getting to know each other. You shouldn’t be planning anything. I am most certainly not!” 

Pucey stood stiffly from the desk and took measured steps in my direction. “But you should, Weasley. If you don’t plan for these things, what if whoever you do marry isn’t understanding about your circumstances?” 

He had drawn close enough that when I raised a pointed, enraged finger, Pucey was almost poked in the chest. “We made a deal. That’s not up for discussion”.

“Those things you mentioned during our last lesson, the Capulets and Montagues, a joint-suicide; that was written by a Muggle playwright”, Pucey stated solemnly.

I took a stumbling step away from him. “How did you…”

“While not popular or at all useful, Hogwarts’ library does carry some muggle literature. For muggle studies students, I believe. It took some time to find. But Madam Pince pointed me in the right direction after I had no success checking genealogies”. 

I took another step back and reached for my wand. “You promised”. 

“Weasley, most may not care about @#$&@!, but-”

“What?” Diggory asked; interrupting me mid-story as the rest of our classmates discussed their homework. “What did Pucey say? 'Most may not care about…' It sounded like gibberish”. 

I flapped a hand at him. “That’s because I omitted it. What Pucey said was private. None of your business. Anyway…”

“Weasley, most may not care, but certain circles will…”

The door to the classroom slammed open. It banged loudly against the stone wall as two red heads stormed in. Their wands sparked red and blue, respectively. “Get away from our sister!” Yelled Fred and George. Their faces were flushed, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine steam shooting out of their ears. 

Great. Bloody perfect. This was exactly what I needed. “Now’s not the time”, I turned to them, my hands clenched into fists. 

Except it was like I hadn’t said anything at all. Fred stepped forward first. “I don’t know what you’re playing at-”

“-but our Jolly Holly isn’t for the likes of you.” George followed. Despite two furious redheads descending upon him, Pucey made no move to withdraw his wand. 

“We should hex your ears off”. 

“And set them on fire! Or we could shrink you a few inches”. 

“Maybe a whole foot. Maybe more!” 

“And squash you like the pest you are for buzzing around Holly”. 

“Fred! George! That‘s enough!” But they didn’t even look at me. Let alone hear me.  

“What’s it going to take for you to get it through your thick skull?” Fred asked as he and George continued to slowly advance. Pucey refused to budge; staring them down with deep agitation. 

“She ran away from you”. 

“She told you she wasn’t interested”. 

“Figures a slimy snake wouldn’t-”

I stepped between my brothers and Pucey before they could take another step. “I never said I wasn’t interested! You were the ones who said no. You didn’t ask what I thought. Or what I wanted to do!”

“Holls”, George growled at me while Fred’s eyes had stretched wide. 

“What are you even doing here? I’ve been meeting Pucey for weeks while you’re at quidditch practice, and you hadn’t cottoned on before now!” 

“Weeks!” Fred seethed; turning his head to the side as if spitting out a swear word.

George’s voice was dangerously even. Something he paired with flared nostrils. “Wood has a fever. Angelina and Alicia made him cancel practice so they could drag him to see Madam Pomfrey. We returned to the common room and couldn’t find you. Naturally, we went looking”. 

“Weeks!” Fred repeated himself before waving a hand at the stoic and silent boy standing behind me. “What are you doing, Holls? Pucey is no good! We agreed!” 

“No! You and George agreed. You dropped the matter as if it never occurred to either of you that I could have a different opinion!”

“He made you cry!” George yelled back. 

“So has Lee. You don’t tell him to stay away”. 

Fred groaned and directed his eyes toward the ceiling. “That was just a prank. It was funny. You laughed too when you got over it”. 

“Can we go back to the part where you’ve been seeing Pucey for weeks?” George may have phrased it as a question, but there was no denying the order behind his tone. More infuriating still was Fred when he nodded his agreement. “We don’t keep secrets, Holly! Not anymore. You should’ve told us!”

“Would you have let me? It wasn’t like you asked me what I thought when this first happened. How was I supposed to know you’d listen this time?” 

“Don’t be daft”, Fred scoffed.

“I want to tell you everything. I can’t tell you everything. Not when you’re not willing to hear it!” 

The three of us formed a triangle of anger boiling over. It was a mess of red faces, bristling hair, and wrinkled noses. At least Fred and George had lowered their wands. The three of us breathed through our mouths as we glared at each other. 

“As riveting as this… debate has been-” Pucey started to insert himself.

Only to have three Weasleys turn to him all at once. “Shut up!”

“This doesn’t concern you!”

“I’m mad at you too, Pucey. So, stay out of this!” We all shouted at him; our voices overlapping. 

“... And that’s what happened. Fred, George, and I yelled at each our all the way back to the common room. We would have kept going, but Percy threatened to write Mum, and then he made us eat separately during dinner that night”. Folding my arms, my arithmancy homework lay forgotten as Diggory and I talked… or while I talked and Diggory listened. 

“They’ve been prats ever since. Asking if I have opinions about passing the mashed potatoes during dinner. Or wondering about my thoughts on the proper way to fold toilet roll. Gits. I haven’t been able to tell them about all the nonsense Pucey said before they interrupted”. 

“Uh…” Diggory cast a forlorn glance at his completed homework assignment before angling his body into a more conversational posture. “What about Pucey? What has he said after the fight?” 

I shrugged and frowned down at my hands. “I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding him. We’re not meeting after Arithmancy class right now, obviously. In potions, we have Fred and George glaring at us the whole time. And it’s not like there’s time for conversation in Snape’s class. And in Arithmancy, well… I’m sitting with you, aren’t I?

“I’m going to confront. I need to. I just… don’t know how to start. Marriage. Pure-bloods. We started flirting with each other last year. Does all this mean Pucey was thinking about wedding bells as a second year? Who does that?”

Glancing up at Diggory, I let him take a good look at my quizzical expression. “You're a boy. So tell me, Diggory. Do Blokes start thinking about marriage before they finish puberty?” 

“Uh…” Diggory looked panicked and uncomfortable. But the poor sod was too polite to tell me to leave him alone. “I don’t think so… Witches are scary”. 

One singular laugh left me in a huff as I unfolded my arms and faced forward. “Good answer”. I wouldn’t terrify Diggory further by mentioning all the girls in our year who had a crush on him. Or how he’d have many dates as he got older. There was still plenty of time for him to grow into his teenage heartthrob image.