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Chapter Text

          Somewhere in England (even the locals aren’t exactly sure where), surrounded by rolling hills and sparkling valleys on all sides, lies a sprawling country house at the bank of a winding river. Its only visitor is a young woman, maybe 14 or 15, who is ankle deep in the cool water just before a crudely fashioned dam. A row of odd, flat rocks is lined up along the tree trunk that makes up most of the dam, and every few minutes the girl meticulously selects one; she tosses it between her hands a couple of times, weighing it and getting a feel for its balance, before gripping it between her thumb and the flat of her first knuckle and, with a sharp and precise flick of her wrist, sends it skipping along the pool at the other side of the dam. She gives a satisfied sort of smirk after each string of six or seven skips, and cocks her head a bit to listen to the relentless stream of noise coming from the house’s open windows. Every few minutes a bang or explosion of one kind or another cracks through the air, directly followed by a shout of “FREDDIE I SWEAR TO MERLIN HIMSELF” or something of the sort. ‘Freddie’ does not seem to be paying the woman any mind, as the noises continue. The girl in the river rolls her eyes and chuckles to herself, as if explosions and expletives are commonplace on this strange secluded bit of land. Eventually, as the line of rocks gets shorter and shorter, the girl dips her hands into the clear water, running them through her unruly red hair. She wipes the excess water quickly on her cutoff overalls, not paying much mind as she wades to the riverbank and swings herself onto the grass.

          As she walks barefooted up the dirt path, a window several stories above her swings open, and a gangly, grinning mess of limbs and freckles sticks his head out. Her brother, if the red hair and dusky skin are anything to go by, is completely unaffected by the raised eyebrow and unimpressed smirk she directs at him, and opens his mouth as if to say something, before a look of panic crosses his face and he quickly ducks back inside. The source of his fear becomes apparent a moment later when a decidedly unimpressed but not-altogether-surprised looking woman takes his place at the window. She gives her daughter a stern look, as if daring her to cause any trouble with her brother already wreaking havoc, and the girl gives her a chagrined smile, ducking her head and moving at a much quicker pace towards the door. She hastily brushes the dirt off of her feet before she enters, giving her father a side hug as she passes by where he’s sitting in the front room, before climbing the three flights of stairs to the landing outside her room, where her mother is waiting. The woman says nothing, simply raising an eyebrow and nodding slightly to the mess of clothing, furniture, and god-knows-what-else spread across the girl’s room and out into the hallway. Sucking her lips between her teeth, the girl snorts and nods, giving a “yeah that looks about right” as she scoops up the clothing and headbands that have spilled into the hallway. As another bang rocks the house and her mother briskly stalks upstairs towards Freddie’s room, Dominique heaves a sigh and prepares to leave her home for another nine months of crazy friends and stress-fueled adventures.

***

          Somewhere in the countryside of Northern England is a small town, spread out and sprawling. In the town center—if such a small town can even have a center besides the consolidation of the post office and supermarket—is an ice cream shop. The final days, for some the final day even, of summer vacation have brought out a relatively large crowd, and the line is out the door. A rambunctious game of tag has children skipping and ducking around trees, benches, and people alike, and a group of older kids are down the hill at the pond trying to catch water striders. The hill itself is proving to be a popular attraction of children and adults alike, and there is a row of people at the top holding cones for their companions, who have chosen to lie down on their backs with their arms outstretched and roll down the hill like barrels. There’s a tree at the top of the hill, off to the side of the shop and its customers; it is currently occupied by two teenagers: a boy at the younger end who is sitting on a very thick, low branch with a chocolate cone, and a girl on the brink of adulthood, who is sitting several yards higher than the boy and is clearly quite pleased with herself. Directly below the boy’s dangling feet is a young couple, perhaps mid-thirties, sitting on a park-style bench and regarding the proceedings of the shop customers with great amusement.

          Every now and then the kids shout something down to their parents about how boring and domestic they are, but the shorter, dark-skinned man simply sticks his tongue out at the two, while his partner—presumably his husband if the bands on their fingers are anything to go off of—threatens to eat the ice cream which has been left in his possession. In response to the threat, the girl subtly makes her way down the tree to sit on the branch opposite her brother’s, and holds a finger to her lips, eyes dancing with mirth. She hooks her knees around the lower branch and, much to her brother’s barely contained glee, swings down and stealthily grabs the two half-eaten cups of ice cream lying on the bench beside their parents’ legs. The two men startle and call foul as she passes the treats up to the boy, freeing her hands to pull herself out of her fathers’ reach. After spluttering indignantly for a moment, the sandy-haired, taller man shucks off his overshirt, grabs the lowest branch, and begins a heavy pursuit of his now-cackling children, whose young limbs and light bodies can carry them much higher than his. As the lone member of his family still on solid ground, the other man smiles and shakes his head, well-used to his husband and adoptive-children’s antics by now. With a glance at his watch and a twist of his lips, he calls up to the other three, reminding them that the whole family has to be on a train the next morning and no one has finished packing. The kids, who’ve taken refuge at the top branches of the tree, stolen ice cream now sitting within reach on the shop’s roof, groan melodramatically, but begin slowly making their way back down to the lower branches. They stop on the lowest branch to finish every last bite of the stolen ice cream, grinning like mad and frequently sticking out their tongues, before finally dropping to the ground below. After tossing the empty cups into the practically-overflowing bin, the boy jumps on his sister’s back, cackling with glee as she breaks into a run. Their fathers walk at a more subdued pace behind them, hand in hand, and as a crazy, mixed up, happy family, the Finnegan-Thomas’s leave for home.

***

          There’s a girl sitting on the front step of a nondescript house in a nondescript suburban town just outside of London. She’s dressed comfortably in leggings and a dark green cardigan, ready for the drop in temperature that the almost-autumn days have brought. There’s a book open on her knees, and her right hand keeps her page while the left lifts a large blue “police box” mug to her lips. Her black hair is piled in a messy bun atop her head, and she looks up every now and then to smile at the child’s birthday party across the street. A car drives by the house and she looks up, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, but she doesn’t track the car with her eyes; she knows the driver cannot see her. No one on the street can see her. They can see the lights on in the house. They can see the car in the driveway. Back when the girl went to the local elementary school, the people on the street could see her walking to the bus stop. In short, they can see the things that they want to see. They can see the things that make the house just like every other house on the street.

          But they can’t see the girl. The girl is different. The girl is a teenager enjoying simply being outside. The girl is thirteen and reading during the summer holiday. The girl is whispering under her breath in Latin. The picture on the cover of the girl’s book is moving.

          The girl goes to school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and for nine months out of the year the girl studies magic.

          The girl is Ella Edgecombe. Her mother is Marietta Edgecombe and her godmother is Cho Chang. Her family fought in the second Wizarding War alongside Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world.

          And Ella? She wants nothing more than to be a normal teenager doing normal teenager-y things. Fate was not so kind to her parents, but perhaps it will be more generous to her.

***

          There’s a young man sitting on the lone swing-set at the edge of the lone playground in an otherwise busy-and-bursting town outside of London. The chains have long-since become too low to the ground for him, designed for legs much shorter than his own, but there he sits, eyes on the sunset without really seeing it. He rocks back and forth unconsciously, heels digging and toes pulling in a steady rhythm, but he seems otherwise oblivious to the fact that he is even at a playground at all. Every so often he shivers at the late-afternoon breeze, and his forehead creases deeper in thought. When the last sliver of sunlight drops below the treeline and his shoulders hunch against the chilled air, he looks around. His face puzzles further, as if asking how or why he ended up on a children’s playground, before the confusion is replaced with an air of nostalgia. He grasps the chains of the swing and hauls himself to his feet, hands lingering as he steps slowly out of his shadowed corner. He runs his fingers along the yellow slide, a small smile playing at his lips, then lets his hand drop as he finally shakes himself of the cloud that has followed him from the swing-set. The playground emptied as the sun drifted lower behind the trees, and there isn’t a single child to look at him with curiosity, or a parent with wary concern, though he’s used to the side glances that always seem to follow him. He was the new boy. He was the boy who brought his pet toad to school. He was the boy who turned a bully’s hair slime green. He was the new boy again. He was homeschooled this time. He was the boy with no father to speak of. He was the boy whose only friend was a girl two years younger and four towns over. He was the boy, he was the boy, he was the boy.

          He was the boy who wished so hard to disappear that one day it actually happened. He was the boy who always had the right words to dry tears, and always had a candy bar in his pocket for exactly those such circumstances. He was the boy with a smile so quiet it could only be felt is the calm stillness of nature. He was the boy who could make any animal, no matter how wild, eat out of the palm of his hand.

          He was the boy who came back from his first year of boarding school with a louder laugh, a brighter smile, stronger hugs, and dozens of stories on his lips about a French girl with hair the color of sunshine who told him stories about the stars.

          He was the boy who came back from his second year of boarding school with the fiercest, older brother sense of protection an only child can muster, and even more stories about a shy little boy who wanted nothing more than to be accepted for who he knew he really was, and a boisterous girl with flame-red hair and a desperate need to fulfill her family’s expectations.

          He was the boy who came back from boarding school with the one thing his mother could never give him: siblings, a family, a sense of community. He was the boy who took his mother, his aunt, and his chosen family, and wove a web that the force of the entire world could not break. He is the boy who looked at the discrimination of his mother’s past and the promise of the future, and made a decision. He is Andrew Chang, and he is going to change the world.

***

          On the northern shores of France, secluded enough that the villagers have very little gossip material (not that this has ever stopped them) is a large, rather peculiar cottage. There’s a strange mist around it, as though the fog is particularly thick in the ten feet surrounding it, and it seems to be in a constant state of about-to-fall-over without actually doing so. Inside is a spacious kitchen, though rather stark in the way of appliances; a bookshelf-lined study, books sorted by color rather than alphabetically; and a well-lived-in mess of a living room, with two packed trunks resting near the fireplace.

          The third trunk, instead of ready to go with the other two, is up two flights of increasingly disastrous stairs and lying open on the floor of the third largest bedroom in the house. Currently though, it looks less like a bedroom and more like a warzone. The cumulative mess that one can only assume is supposed to be packed into the trunk is instead strewn in and around it. The main ingredient to the wreckage is a disarray of clothing and shoes, some easily recognizable as belonging to a teenage girl, others... less so. Scattered on and under sets of robes and sweatpants are several textbooks with increasingly bizarre names such as Defensive Magical Theory , One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi , and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them . A large pewter cauldron and set of slightly tarnished scales sit in the top of the trunk. At the outskirts of the mess, spilling out of two upended organizing units, is a quite extensive range of makeup, some of which shimmers in a way that defies science. A small black cat is purring on top of a tangled mess of charging cords, none of which seem to plug into conventional outlets. Perched on a desk at the exterior of the mess is a large birdcage with quite a lot of brown and white feathers scattered along the bottom. A variety of green and silver accessories—scarves, ties, hair ribbons and the like—are draped over and pinned around the girl’s bed posts, the corners of the trunk, and the back of the desk chair. To complete the utter mayhem is a stuffed bear lying under several pairs of pants; from the visible top half it appears to be brand new, but there’s a look in its glass eyes that says it has experienced quite a lot.

          A girl, who appears to be the owner of the room, and, by extension, the trunk and its considerable contents, is lying on the bed in the middle of the room. The bed has also been subject to the havoc that has been wreaked; an assortment of comic books, their covers varying levels of recognizable, are spread across and around the pillow, glossy pages being creased by the girl’s feet. Her head rests at the foot of the bed, left arm dangling over the edge as she lies on her stomach. The other hand is lightly brushing a charging cord, which is wedged between the mattress of the bed and its box spring, and appears to be attached to some sort of electronic device, judging by the mellow music issuing from the bed.

          Her wavy blonde hair is in a loose bun at her crown; several strands of shorter bangs have come free and are lazily drifting in front of her face. After a few minutes her nose scrunches up against the tickling strands, and she sighs sleepily. Her eyes crack open and she groans, pushing the hair out of her face and squinting through her sleepy haze. Groggily, she mumbles to herself and wiggles her phone out from under her mattress, checking the time on the screen’s locked display. 3:27 AM is set against a photo of herself and four other people her age. The girl pushes herself off of her stomach and up into a kneeling position, surveying the room. She curses, not quite as softly as the hour would dictate, and, tilting her neck until four or five audible pops satisfy her, the girl slides off of her bed and approaches the wreckage of her trunk.

          At 3:29 AM, September 1st, 2018, in the third largest bedroom of Shell Cottage, Dominique Weasley began to pack.

Chapter Text

          Dominique's first order of business was to move the owl cage to the corner of the room, cringing at its state. She then gently picked up the cat and deposited him on her bed, where he hissed for a moment before curling up again, sleepy and content. She circled the trunk, making a mental list in her head, then ticked her tongue and sat down on the floor, straddling the edge of the mess. She pulled all of the books out and stacked them to the side, then deposited her potions kit into her cauldron. Next she extricated her makeup and electronics, making two neat piles of them beside her knees. She moved efficiently, folding all of the clothing and sorting them first by muggle and magical, and then further into formality and season, and piled the shoes in a heap next to the clothes. She then picked the trunk up and dumped the rest of its contents into a pile on the floor; it was mostly rubbish, with a few odds and ends that she fished out, and her old bear, which she retrieved, planting a sentimental kiss on his head before dropping him on her bed next to the cat.

          "Thanks bloody Merlin for expansion charms," Dominique muttered to herself as she started transferring her piles to the trunk, layering the stack of textbooks along the wide bottom. The clothes went in after: muggle clothing on the bottom layer, with summer on the right side and winter on the left, as well as casual at the front and formal in the back, and then fall and wizarding on top of that in the same order. The Slytherin accessories were piled somewhat haphazardly over that, but both the scarves and the ribbons would simply be hung on her bed frame in preparation of the first Quidditch game, so it didn't particularly matter. Her collection of shoes, mostly boots with a few heels and sandals, was piled next to her clothing stacks, and her makeup and hair things piled beside that in two organized boxes. She stowed all the electronics save her phone in the right side compartment, and plunked the cauldron and its contents down in the left, before shoving various odds and ends on top, too tired to organize them meticulously. For the final layer, Dominique got up and retrieved her bindings of parchment, inkwells, and quills, all new from Diagon Alley, from the desk in the corner of the room, as well as several muggle notebooks and writing implements for notes and personal writing. She spread those on top of everything else in piles, and, with a satisfied nod, closed and latched the trunk.

          Exhausted, Dominique plopped onto her bed (head on the pillow this time) and flicked the lights off, hoping to catch a couple hours of sleep before her parents woke her for breakfast.

***

          Someone was shaking her shoulder. Someone dared try and move her from her bed.

          Dominique barely restrained herself from swatting the hand on her shoulder with the reminder that it was probably her mother and she definitely would get swatted back. It just might be worth it , she thought wistfully, before slowly letting her eyes drift open.

          "Allons-y Dominique. Le train partira dans 4 heures,” Fleur reminded Dominique gently, doing her best to ease the girl awake. Fleur had no doubts about how late (or in this case early) her daughter had been up the night before.

          “Uuhnmfffhh Mamaaan! Juste cinq minutes plus!” Dominique pleaded, pressing her face into the pillow.

          “Non, tu dois lèver-toi. Le petit déjeuner est en attente,” Fleur reprimanded, hiding a smile at her daughter's melodramatic nature as she stood up to levitate the trunk and owl cage (now with an owl in it) down to the living room.

          "Are you laughing at me?" Dominique grumbled into her pillow, transitioning between her first two languages with tired ease. "That hurts, Maman."

          Fleur sighed, not even trying to hide the endearing smile as her eldest daughter appeared on the landing, holding a huge mug of coffee. Victoire looked amused, and patted her mother on the shoulder with an "I'll take it from here" as they crossed paths.

***

          Dominique was just about to roll over and go back to sleep, Maman’s wrath be damned, when her sister's grinning face poked around the doorway, looking unfairly put together for such an ungodl– ohmygod praise Merlin's righteous arse she has coffee .

          “Louis said you were still awake when he got up this morning, and I figured you could use this," Victoire said with a smirk, holding the mug in front of her like a peace offering. It was one Dominique was more than happy to accept as she pushed herself upright, grimacing at how bleary she felt. She took the mug in both hands, ignoring Victoire’s "there we go," and took a long drink, inhaling more than sipping. "Fuckin' morning people," Dominique muttered into the mug.

          "Speaking of which, how are you so bright eyed and put together this morning?" Dominique grumbled, slightly irritated. Victoire hated mornings almost as much as Dominique did; it was Louis who probably woke up without an alarm. It was kind of unfair that her sister had this much energy right now.

          "Well unlike some people, I packed yesterday afternoon, not…" Victoire raised an eyebrow, taking in the state of the room and the bags Dominique was sporting under her eyes, “this morning?" Dominique made a face and stuck out her tongue. Victoire rolled her eyes. She was used to Dominique's wacky sleep schedule by now, and she had to admit she was jealous of how well the girl could manage at night if she'd had caffeine. Victoire smirked a bit at Dominique's chagrined face, then relented.

          "OK, Maman woke me up an hour ago. She assumed, apparently correctly, that you would’ve been up all hours and would need the extra sleep."

          "Honestly, why’d I go to sleep at all?" Dominique grumbled. "Now c’mon, help me do something about this trash heap I call a face," she said, cracking her neck as she slid out of bed. Victoire rolled her eyes, but her smile was wide and her laugh light as she steered her sister by the shoulders, sitting her down on the stool in front of her vanity and all but attacking Dominique's hair with her wand. Dominique smiled into her coffee. Once you've gotten out of bed, and have caffeine in your system (not necessarily in that order), mornings can't hurt you. Besides, it was really convenient having a big sister who loved her enough to do her hair and makeup (and was legally allowed to use magic to do it).

***

          Dominique stumbled down the stairs no less than an hour later (the real reason Fleur woke her children up at the asscrack of dawn). Victoire had washed and tamed her hair, done her makeup, and then left Dominique to get dressed (no doubt going to make kissy faces at her boyfriend that Maman and Papa weren't supposed to know about). Bill raised an eyebrow and snorted at her ‘Under this T-Shirt, My Wings are Getting Cramped’ top, but didn't comment, serving her eggs and sausage instead. Dominique kissed him on the cheek as she entered the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee; she did however stop to swat her little brother upside the head as he chortled at her (because again, fuckin' morning people).

          "Hey, some people need three cups of coffee to function in the morning, others go to bed at 9:30 as they prepare for old age," she said in a reasonable tone, slicing some bread from the loaf on the counter and pouring her third cup of coffee into an oversized green mug.

          Louis rolled his eyes, taking it in stride, and Dominique stuck her tongue out at him. She dropped the bread on her plate and waited for Bill to flick his wand to toast it as she reached for the jam. Dominique cracked a smile when she saw Victoire come down the stairs, having changed out of her Muppet pajamas and into a dream catcher T-shirt and dark-wash jeans. The dream catcher was a perfect choice; Dominique had never seen someone with their head further in the clouds than her sister, eyes glued to her phone and fingers flying as a smile played on her lips. With a shake of her head, Dominique pulled her own phone out of the back pocket of her skinny jeans (because apparently muggles don't deem front pockets necessary for girls and she was too lazy to enchant them), typing a quick text to her sister to see if she'd even notice.

          Snake Eyes: ull see him in legit like 2h, would u chill out already???

          Victory Baby: ur just bitter bc ur love life is nonexistent rn

          Victoire rolled her eyes, but put her phone in her pocket and sat down at the table. Dominique smirked and sipped her coffee, choosing to ignore her sister’s jab. Victoire got a slice of bread and flicked her own wand to toast it before sticking her tongue out at her sister. Bill chuckled into his pumpkin juice and Louis rolled his eyes, asking "where's Maman?"

          "Organizing your trunk," Victoire quipped, raising an eyebrow.

          "Telling Harry to keep his godson in check," Louis retaliated quietly. Dominique snickered.

          "Hermione flooed a couple minutes ago, asking about something for Rose," Bill intervened, well used to his children's antics by now. Louis nodded, and they resumed eating.

          "When are we leaving?" Dominique asked a few moments later around a mouthful of toast, realizing that it was 8 AM and the train didn't leave until 11. Honestly, if she got 2 hours of sleep and ended up sitting around for an hour she was gonna be really bloody pissed.

          "We are going to George and Angelina's house à neuf heures et demi, et going with them to the train station," Fleur responded, coming in from the living room with a list trailing behind her, dusting off the front of her white button down blouse with her wand. Dominique pumped her fist under the table, whispering "yessss" while Victoire pouted.

          "I thought we were going to the Potter's," she addressed her mother, ignoring Dominique.

          "James' set of dungbombs went off when he brought his trunk downstairs this morning," Louis supplied, having talked to his cousin earlier that morning. Victoire made an "ah" noise, Bill grimaced, and Dominique cackled into her coffee. Classic Gryffindor.

          "D'accord, do you three 'ave your book-bags packed?" Fleur asked, refocusing on the list which was now on the table beside her plate. Victoire nodded and "mhm"ed around a mouthful of sausage, while Dominique snorted and said "nope" and Louis just looked guilty.

          "Do that as soon as you 'ave finished eating, s'il vous plait," Fleur sighed. "Victoire, do you 'ave your robes in your bag?"

          "Oui Maman."

          "You've got something to do, you 'ave your phone? ("You've got condoms," Dominique muttered under her breath)" Victoire nodded, glaring at her sister. Bill passed her a bag of coins, "for spending," which had Dominique and Louis looking at their father expectantly, waiting for their allowance. When Bill simply returned to his eggs, Dominique spluttered, letting out several clearly protesting syllables of gibberish, and Louis just looked confused.

          "You'll get it when you have your bag packed," Bill admonished, smiling slightly. Dominique pouted, getting up with a melodramatic moan and clearing her plate, and then made her way upstairs. Louis chuckled, then cleared his plate with a "thanks for breakfast dad," and followed his sister. Fleur and Bill exchanged one of those "look at our kids" parenting looks over the table. Victoire smiled at that, then cleared her plate as well, and with a kiss on each parent's cheek, went into the living room to talk to Teddy in private.

Chapter Text

          Dominique sighed and checked the time again. 9:13. Honestly, that was close enough; she'd finished packing ten minutes ago and was now lying on the couch with a pillow over her head, trying to drown out the sounds of Fleur lecturing Louis about the state her tried to leave his room in. Dominique's brother packed in a similar fashion to Dominique, throwing things everywhere and then consolidating the mess. The problem was, he often missed the 'consolidating' step. His trunk was probably worse than his room, with everything thrown in haphazardly and filled to the brim. Louis' stuff would probably take up at least three muggle trunks, for no other reason than crumpled clothing takes up a lot more space than folded clothing. Louis packed with the rationale that he was just packing to travel, not to live out of his trunk, so what was the point of organizing it just to take everything out again. It was one that Dominique understood, but it also took her all of 5 minutes to unpack her trunk, and it took Louis over an hour, even using magic.

          Dominique groaned. There had to be something better for her to be doing right now. She'd tried sleeping, hence the pillow over her face, but between Fleur and Louis bickering and her excitement to see her friends again (plus that fourth cup of coffee she'd had after packing her bookbag), that was clearly not gonna work out. Oh well, Étan would probably let her sleep on his lap again if she bought him licorice wands, so it wasn't like she would fall asleep in her pudding at the feast. But Merlin! Speaking of seeing her friends again, she hadn't seen Roxanne in two whole weeks and here she was, moping on the couch! Grinning, she pulled the pillow off of her face and pushed herself upright, turning to her father with a puppy dog pout.

          "Hey Papa? Can I go now? I'm all packed and ready to go, and I can floo straight to Roxanne's room. I promise I won't get in the way if they're not done packing," she implored, giving him her best "I'm the good child of the family yes indeed 100% definitely" look. Bill chuckled, not falling for it but not denying her either.

          "Oh, I don't know," he said mock-warily. "You might cause a ruckus and put me on Angelina's bad side again." It was all Dominique could do not to laugh outright at that. Her aunt adored Bill; he was the Weasley brother to help George the most after the Second Wizarding War and his twin's death. The two families still ate dinner together near every Sunday. It was the reason Roxanne and Dominique were so close: they saw each other even more than Harry and Ron's families. Dominique's pout deepened, and she went so far as to hold her hands up in prayer, milking it for all it was worth. Bill rolled his eyes endearingly.

          "Go for it, kiddo. Tell George and Angelina we'll be there in a few," he allowed. Dominique grinned, popping up to kiss him on the cheek before bolting for the stairs. She yelled a quick thank you from halfway up the first flight, and Bill gave an amused "uh-huh" before returning to his book.

          Dominique took the stairs two at a time, thrilled at the prospect of seeing her best friend again. She poked her head around Victoire's doorway to tell her where she was going, getting a wave and an eyeroll in response, and grabbed her messenger bag from where it sat on the floor of the landing. She slowed down when she got to her room, pulling her hair up in a rough messy bun and scooping up the pile of jewelry she'd left on her bed to put in after breakfast. She sat down at her vanity, checking her makeup in the mirror and putting in her black rose earrings and industrial piercing. She chuckled a bit to herself at her rings—a Doctor Who stamped "Bad Wolf" ring (what? she was still half English); a Supernatural "Jerk, Bitch" wrap ring, charmed to censor itself for anyone younger than 13 and older than 30; and a snake ring with emerald eyes that wrapped around her thumb, the only house recognition in her outfit aside from her bag. Dominique pulled on her leather ankle boots and zipped them up, then stood and looked around the room. She took a deep breath, struck with the thought of how it must be for her parents with all three kids away from home for so long. How weird must it be for them to have our rooms so empty all the time? The house must be so quiet without us. It made sense to her now, why her mother found it so important that Louis clean up the mess in his room; he wasn't normally messy, so the thought of having his room be like that for months must set her mother's teeth on edge. Feeling rather melancholic now, Dominique stepped over to the fireplace, removing the grate and muttering a charm to activate the heat-less flames. She took a pinch of floo powder from the ceramic bowl Bill had brought back from Egypt and threw the powder over the flames, opening the connection to Roxanne's fireplace. Their parents had connected their fireplaces as a gift for their birthdays, Dominique's 10th and Roxanne's 9th. Dominique ducked down, shouting "Oi Rox don't be naked" into the flames, and then stepped into the fire, snickering, and yelled "Roxanne's Bedroom" before being whisked away.

          Dominique not-quite-gracefully tumbled out of Roxanne's fireplace a few moments later, after the traditional feeling of being on a muggle roller-coaster coupled with inhaling minimal amounts of ash. The grate had been put aside, so Roxanne had heard her (slightly uncouth) heads up, but looking around, Dominique didn’t see her cousin. She dusted her clothes off, using Roxanne's floor-length mirror to straighten her tank top and pull up her black skinny jeans. She pulled the hair tie out of her--quite literally--ash blonde hair, letting it fall past her shoulders and running her fingers through it to work out the inevitable tangles. Her cousin, having heard her rather loud entrance, called out "I'm in the loo gimme a sec" from the attached room, and then a beat later "actually scratch that you're better at eyeliner than I am get in here."

          Dominique snorted. She was indeed far better at eyeliner than her 14 year old counterpart. Then again, Roxanne was miles better than she at contouring, so Dominique couldn't tease the girl without getting a quick retort on that end. Damn Ravenclaws . Dominique followed her friend's voice into the obnoxiously large attached washroom (forget water closet , this was an entire bloody room). Roxanne was sitting on her vanity stool in front of a well-lit mirror, struggling with a liquid eyeliner pen.

          "Hey," she said, grinning at Dominique in the mirror. "Y'know, normally I wouldn't give a flying fuck about this, but it's Muggle London. The boys are cute"

          "and the girls are cuter," Dominique finished for her, returning the grin. She took the eyeliner pen from Roxanne, tsk-ing at her handiwork, and grabbed a makeup wipe from the table. She nudged Roxanne up by the shoulders and boosted her up onto the table before gently removing the smudged eyeliner, being careful not to remove any of the girl's admittedly stunning eyeshadow.

          "You know," Dominique teased, applying the fresh eyeliner in thin strokes, "you're gonna have to learn how to do this eventually. You're old enough to go to the ball this year." She finished the second eye, matching the first wing, and capped the eyeliner. Roxanne rolled her eyes and took the pen.

          "Yes, but that's what I have you for. I'd be lost without you," she teased, giggling as Dominique tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, acknowledging the validity of the claim before pulling her cousin off the table and into a hug. For girls who had grown up seeing each other practically every other day, being apart for two weeks was surprisingly difficult.

          "Besides," Dominique pulled back, "are you sure it's the muggles you want to look hot for, and not a certain Hufflepuff keeper?" she waggled her eyebrows playfully, smirking as Roxanne squirmed.

          "Is both an option?" Roxanne asked, blushing. Dominique's smirk spread into a genuine smile; Rox might be her cousin, but they'd grown up like sisters, and Dominique took her older sister responsibilities very seriously. She gently pulled the girl out of the bathroom, hitting the light switch on the way out.

          "Both is always an option," she said genuinely, nudging her cousin with her hip. "Now come on, it's been two weeks since I've seen you. What's up in Roxie's World?"

***

          "Is that my favorite niece?" Angelina's voice could be heard from the hallway. Dominique giggled. "Don't let Victoire hear you say that," she called back to her aunt. Angelina swung her head around the door frame, grinning. "Yes, well Victoire doesn't give me a hug and kiss whenever I see her," she said cheekily as Dominique got up to greet her.  Dominique laughed, and Roxanne rolled her eyes at her mother.

          "The rest of the gang should be here any minute now, although when I left Louis was getting lectured about not cleaning his room, so it's entirely possible she'll make him do that before they go, in which case it's anyone's guess," Dominique said, laughing a bit at the absurdity. "I'll put 5 sickles on them not getting here before 10," she added with a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow, holding out her hand to shake.

          "Deal," Angelina shook. "Alright, well I'm gonna leave you girls to it, as I'm assuming," she directed this at Roxanne, "you're not wearing your pajamas to King's Cross, Miss Thing." Roxanne looked a bit sheepish. She had been planning on changing after she did her makeup, but they'd gotten a bit carried away. Angelina left with a laugh and a promise to be downstairs anxiously awaiting the day her brother-in-law and his family decided to get their arses over there. Roxanne rolled over and off of her bed, where the two of them had been lying, talking about Boys Girls School and the Universe. Dominique hopped back onto the queen bed, playing on her phone while her cousin changed and voicing her opinion when it was requested.

          Roxanne popped her head out of her closet to ask Dominique to look up the weather forecast before diving back in again. Dominique was astonished at how many clothes the girl had; almost all of her clothes were packed in her trunk. She rattled off the temperature predictions for the next few hours in London and advised jeans rather than shorts. It was supposed to be low 20's all morning, and getting leered at in Muggle London was not an experience Dominique wanted for her cousin.

          Roxanne went through two different tops of varying shades of brown/bronze before settling on a loose white cropped cami and a tan plaid over-shirt made of a light, breathable material. She wore that over a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, and added a bronze feather pendant and bronze watch for a bit more house pride. Flipping her head over, she pulled her long, tight red curls into a messy knot at the top of her head, something Dominique would always be jealous of. It took Dominique at least ten minutes to do anything even remotely nice with her hair, and 20 to make it look that effortless. Roxanne's mixed parentage gave her a stunning combination of genes; her hair was the same texture and had the same bounce as her mother's, but it was much closer to her father's color, and her skin was a beautiful dusty caramel. It sometimes astonished Dominique how unfairly attractive her extended family was.

          Roxanne was lacing up her rainbow high-top Converse when greetings were called out from the floo downstairs, signaling the arrival of the rest of Dominique's family. She got off the bed and grabbed Roxanne's wrist, twisting it so she could see her watch face. Roxanne sighed, used to her cousin's dependency on her watch. Dominique swore under her breath and Roxanne chuckled.

          "You've got to stop making bets with my mother," she chided Dominique as the girl grabbed the five sickles from her bookbag, before slinging the bag over her shoulder and stepping out on the landing. "You coming?" she called over her shoulder, and Roxanne nodded, double knotting her second shoe and grabbing her own navy and brown leather messenger bag from where it lay propped up against her bed frame before following her cousin downstairs.

          Dominique slunk around the edge of the living room to where her aunt was greeting her mother, nodding at her siblings in greeting as she went. She waited for them to finish the customary greetings before slipping the five sickles into her aunt's hand, tilting her head towards the clock on the mantle. Angelina smirked and pocketed the coins, laughing at Dominique's pout. Angelina patted her niece's cheek, saying "chin up kiddo" with a laugh, and earned a snort and narrowed eyes in response. Dominique went back to where Roxanne was standing in the doorway, pausing to cackle at Freddie's green "if the broom fits, ride it" T-shirt and ask where she could get one, before she spied her uncle standing by the fireplace talking to Bill, and changed her course to sidle up next to him.

          "Gryffindor," she muttered disdainfully with a raised eyebrow, ignoring her father's mock-offended gasp.

          "Slytherin," George responded in kind, giving her a side-glance onceover with an unimpressed look on his face before cracking a grin and pulling her into a hug.

The night Dominique had become the first Weasley in a century to be sorted into Slytherin, she had been terrified of her family's reaction. Victoire had written home immediately, explaining the situation to her parents, but Roxanne had dealt with the rest of their (extremely) extended family. The morning after the sorting ceremonies, 10 year old Roxie had convinced her mother to let her floo to all of her aunts' and uncles' houses, bringing with her an enormous card reading "UP SLYTHERIN" in sparkling silver and green letters. She forced every single family member (with her strongest puppy-dog-face game) to sign the card, and encouraged them to write notes reassuring their niece that they still loved her unconditionally. Dominique had cried at the breakfast table on the morning of her first classes when she had received the card and all of the messages, but the one that had been the most effective in quelling her fears had been George's.

Hey kiddo

Never let anyone tell you what your house means. Gryffindors are not prats (well…), Hufflepuffs are not weak, Ravenclaws are not snobs, and Slytherins are not evil . There's greatness in you, little one. You just have to unleash it, and it's up to you how you do that. Never let anyone bully you into doing something you don't want to do, even your parents. And hey, if anyone ever gives you shit for being in Slytherin, I will send you half the store to get back at them. We've got your back kiddo, don't you forget it.

Your (fun) loving uncle,

George

P.S. I have on good authority that there's a group of teenage ghosts who like hanging out with Peeves the Poltergeist and playing pranks on arsehole kids and annoying teachers. They're led by a good-looking chap with hair that rivals mine. Tell him your name and the story of what happened to last year's Christmas pudding (I'm not blind) and they'll help you out with whatever you need.

Be good (but not too good).

That message stuck with Dominique, and, when a second year gryffindor was giving her shit for being the first Slytherin Weasley in a century, it gave her the strength to look at the girl with her head held high, say "maybe I just believe in thinking out my attacks instead of going in half-cocked like that," and walk away. A few days later, the girl showed up in the hospital wing, face covered in boils from a potions "mishap." No one could figure out what had happened; she followed the instructions perfectly, and no one in the class had seen anything peculiar. The only thing Professor Daugherty remembered being out of the ordinary that day was a little first year Slytherin coming in that morning directly after breakfast to collect a bottle of frogspawn that she had left the day before, and she had seemed perfectly innocent and harmless.

          Dominique's relationship with her uncle had strengthened even further after that, and this lighthearted teasing over old house rivalries was so commonplace, no one in the room found it in themselves to even roll their eyes. Dominique left the two brothers to catch up, going to flop on the couch next to her best friend, who immediately put her rainbow-clad feet into Dominique's lap. Both girls sighed, taking a moment to relax as their family members talked around them. There would be plenty of time for excitement later as they drew closer to seeing the rest of their friends and family on the platform, and even later for the Welcoming Feast and the Sorting, but for now they were content to sit in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by a quip about their respective little brothers or how smitten Victoire was. All was well.

Chapter Text

          In the following half hour, Dominique had shifted from sitting with Roxanne’s feet in her lap to lying half on top of Roxanne with her own feet propped up on the armrest of the sofa. George stood up and clapped his hands, jolting her, and possibly a couple of others, out of a light doze.

          “Alright, we should get going guys. Saturday traffic in London, Merlin save us all,” he said with a grimace, holding out his hands to help Dominique off of his daughter, and then Roxanne off of the couch. With quite a lot of moaning and grumbling, the five kids gathered their bags, trunks, and various animal cages while their parents flooed relatives and made sure the car was ready to go. Dominique rolled her trunk through the house to the garage door, and then went back to grab her bag and sooth the hissing crate that currently housed her cat Theo. At least she didn’t have to bring an enchanted fish tank in her trunk like Roxanne did for her axolotl.

          Angelina had pulled the car out into the driveway, and she and Bill were in the process of levitating the trunks into the boot while George worked on adding a fourth row of seats in the back of the SUV. When the trunks were all loaded, the now gathered group of teens (and 12 year old Freddie) handed off their various pet cages and crates for the adults to pack carefully on top of the luggage as the kids climbed into the third and now fourth rows of the car. Freddie and Louis got into the far back, and promptly took out a deck of Exploding Snap and started playing on the seat between them as the girls climbed into the row in front of them. Dominique plopped herself down in between her sister and her cousin, pulling out her phone and opening the messaging app.

          Group Convo: The Four Horsemen and the Irritated Horse

          WeaselD: on our way (rox in tow)

          Ellaphant: we would be, but marrietta and mum won’t shut up

          Seeing their friend Ella’s response, Roxanne pulled out her own phone and typed a quick message.

          Weaslette: they can talk in the car. honestly, aren’t you guys further away than we are?

          DragonWhisperer: probs but i’m pretty sure we’re flooing to the LC and getting a cab from there, so it’s not as bad and ffs Ella you’ve got your own phone why are you               looking over my shoulder

          Ellaphant: bc i’m lazy and it feels weird to text in a convo w you when you’re sitting right next to me

          Dominique and Roxanne both chuckled at their friends’ bickering. Ella and Andrew had also known each other since childhood, as their mothers had been best friends since their own Hogwarts days. There was only one friend they hadn’t heard from yet, and even as they commented on his absence, Étan’s icon popped up as online .

          Étan: i’ve been here for 15min already, come rescue meeeee

          Weaslette: our bros are playing exploding snap behind us, i think we’re the ones who need rescuing

          Before Roxanne could even hit send, the boys’ game exploded, blowing hot air on their necks and whipping their hair around. Dominique whirled around.

          “ If you two blow my hair up, I will make a noose out of your bedsheets,” she threatened, fear for her hair adding an extra bit of venom to her voice. The boys’ eyes widened.

          “Dom, no death threats in my car,” Angelina called from passenger seat. Dominique started to protest but her aunt continued. “ And boys, try not to blow up said car before we get to the station. Blow up the train, it’ll be good for the upholstery.” Victoire snorted from the corner, and the boys sheepishly put the card deck away, pulling out their phones instead.

          Roxanne edited her text to read “the boys just blew up their cards behind us, i think we’re the ones who need rescuing” and sent it, turning off her phone. Dominique ignored the buzz of the text being received and looked over at her sister, who was still glued to her phone. She smirked and leaned into her sister, talking quietly in her ear so their parents didn’t hear her in the next seat.

          “How long are you gonna wait to tell Maman and Papa? Because I’m fairly certain they know and are just waiting for you to tell them before mentioning it.” Victoire’s face had gone increasingly glum as Dominique talked, which concerned her. “Vic, why haven’t you told them?” she asked again, more gently this time. Victoire sighed, locking her phone and dropping her hands into her lap before turning to her sister.

          “Maybe I’m… scared? Not of Maman and Papa, but of what it’ll mean. I love him, I know I do, and it’s been…” she gave a wry smile,” it’s been like magic. I’m just afraid that if I tell Maman and Papa, then it’ll be real, and the magic will be gone.” Victoire looked so forlorn, it hurt Dominique’s heart. She took her sister’s hand, keeping her voice down.

          “Vic, it is real. You don’t need to hide that. You guys make your own magic. Nothing Maman and Papa say can change that, and honestly, think of how nice it would be to just walk up to him and kiss him on the platform without worrying about what anyone else thinks,” she added with a smile. Victoire and Teddy were the real thing, any idiot could see it. They just needed to get over the fear of familial wrath and they would be fine. With a final squeeze of her sister’s hand and a reassuring smile, Dominique sat back in her seat, leaning her head on Roxanne’s shoulder and watching with vague interest as her cousin played a game on her phone.

***

          The car turned, stopped, was shifted to park. The doors opened. The hustle and bustle of King’s Cross hit Dominique’s ears. She blinked a couple of times, whining as her pillow moved from under her head.

          “C’mon Dom, we’ve gotta go rescue Étan, remember?” Roxanne pulled her out of the car and onto the pavement of the parking lot, handing over her messenger bag. Dominique ran her fingers through her hair as she woke up, registering her cousin’s words and where they were.

          “Right. Yes. Rescue mission. School. Ew. Got it,” she muttered, going round to the boot and taking Theo’s crate from the top. She put it on the ground next to her and yanked her trunk out, grunting. The enchantments didn’t do much for the weight of the trunk, just the size. And she had a lot of textbooks. Dominique wheeled the trunk to the side and picked up the crate as Roxanne collected her things, and, after tucking the crate under her arm and making sure her cat hadn’t thrown up on the ride, they were off. They wove their way through the masses of tourists and businesspeople alike, following their parents to the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10. Without stopping, the girls walked straight towards it, looking as nonchalant as anyone else at the station, and slid through it. Dominique shivered as she felt the magic working around her as they stepped out into the chaos of Platform 9¾.

          “Hey, can you tell Maman and Papa that I’ve gone to find Killian?” Dominique startled, not realizing that her brother was standing next to her. She nodded, recovering, and he was off. It seemed Freddie had done the same thing to Dominique, no doubt going to find James and the rest of the Potters. Soon after the boys took their leave, Victoire walked briskly through the wall, eyes searching the crowd.

          "Turquoise hair thataway,” Dominique called to her sister, having spotted Teddy’s shocking hair over the crowd. Victoire nodded, waving, and strode off. Roxanne snickered and sang “bowchickabow” rather suggestively, leaving both girls in a fit of giggles when their parents came through the archway.

          “Finally, okay, so Louis off to find Killian, I’m assuming,” Dominique raised her eyebrows at her cousin, “that Freddie has gone to find James?” Roxanne nodded. “And we’re going to rescue Étan, who has apparently been here since 10.” And with that, barely waiting for a nod of consent from their parents, Roxanne and Dominique were off. They made a quick stop at the last car of the train to leave their trunks in the overload space to be picked up later. Dominique placated Theo, who was very Not Happy about the loud noises and being jostled around, while Roxanne stuck her head out the door and scanned the crowd for the familiar face.

          “Hey Dom, grab your phone. This is such a great picture,” Roxanne said as she pulled her head back in. Dominique pulled her phone out of her bag’s charmed anti-theft pocket, looking for what her cousin was referring to.

          From their vantage point, they could see most of the crowd, and by extension their clothing. It was an unspoken tradition to show one’s house pride at King’s Cross, and the picture Roxanne was talking about was the students, decked out on their house colors, mingling with other colors. It was a really nice image of unity and inter-house friendship, and Dominique snapped at least 5 pictures, grinning at Roxanne in recognition and wonder. She sent the photos in the Weasley group chat with the caption “nice to know some things can change”, and pulled Roxanne down onto the platform, having spotted Étan with his dads.

          Dean and Seamus spotted the girls coming their way through the crowd, but Dominique held her finger up to her lips and grinned. The two professors swallowed their smiles and looked away, distracting their adopted son from his impending doom. Roxanne crept up behind him and reached around to his stomach, tickling him vigorously. Étan screamed and whipped around, not even noticing that Dominique had stolen his baseball cap as he narrowed his eyes at Roxanne.

          “Brat,” he pouted, ignoring his fathers’ chuckles behind him. Dominique cackled, showing off her recently acquired hat before tackling him with a hug. Étan grudgingly returned it, still making a point of pouting at Roxanne. Roxanne rolled her eyes and wedged herself between the two of them, squeezing her friend for all it was worth.

          “You know you love meeeeee,” she grinned at him, and he relented.

          “Yes, for some reason. Now c’mon, I just saw Andrew and Ella come through the south archway.”

          Dean and Seamus bid him a quick farewell (they would see him at Hogwarts on the daily, so it wasn’t exactly a tearful goodbye) and reminded them that the train was due to leave in ten minutes, and the trio was off to find their other half.

          “Andrew Chang, I thought I saw your annoyingly attractive face!” Étan yelled when they were about 5m away from the group. Andrew turned around with a cheeky grin, and Ella squealed, running to give them each a hug. Andrew followed, at an admittedly more leisurely pace, giving them each a bear hug that lifted them off the ground and closer to his considerable height. The three of them greeted Cho and Marietta, Ella and Andrew’s respective mothers, with grins and waves.

          They didn’t have time for much more than that, however, as more and more students were bidding their parents farewell and getting on the train. Dominique and Roxanne rushed off to find their family, leaving Andrew and Ella to do the same to theirs as their fathers made a reappearance, and Étan went to secure a compartment for their little family.

          As the girls approached their parents, who had joined up with Ron and Ginny’s families, they saw their cousin James explaining something very animatedly. Lily looked excited, and the adults were a range of confused to bemused by whatever he was telling them.

          “What’s going on now? Are dragons falling from the sky again,” Roxanne asked as they reached the large group. James turned on them.

          “Victoire and Teddy are snogging!!!” he exclaimed, frantically waving his arms in the direction of where Dominique assumed her sister was with her (now very real) boyfriend. Roxanne and Dominique glanced at each other and promptly dissolved into giggles. Dominique tried to stifle hers behind her hand with no avail, and James looked indignant.

          “What’s so funny?” he demanded, clearly disappointed with their reaction.

          “Okay, so first of all,” Dominique managed to get her giggling under control, “they’ve been dating for months, and I’m astonished that you lot haven’t noticed. And second,” Dominique laughed out, rolling her eyes at the shocked parents around her, “we were talking about this in the car this morning and I told her that she should tell people because wouldn’t it be nice if she could snog Teddy without worrying about who sees. She clearly only took half of my advice, but hey, whatever works for them.” Roxanne, having not heard this part of the story, was now supporting herself on Dominique’s shoulder as she laughed. Fleur turned to Dominique, clearly confused.

          “Why didn’t she tell us? Why didn’t you?”

          “It wasn’t my secret to tell, Maman. As for Victoire, from what she told me, she was afraid that when the relationship became ‘real’ it would lose the ‘magic’,” Dominique explained, using air quotes. Fleur still looked slightly… confused, hurt, something else all together, Dominique couldn’t tell, but she also looked understanding, as did most of the people around them, including Roxanne.

          “Now, as nice as this has been,” Roxanne said quickly, words punctuated by the train whistle blowing, “we really should get going before the train leaves without us.” Parents rushed forward to give hurried goodbyes, making their kids promise to write often, look after the younger cousins, not get into too much trouble, etc. Dominique squeezed her father tightly as he lifted her slightly off the ground, called out several goodbye’s to her various aunts and uncles, kissed her mother on the cheek, and, grabbing Roxanne’s hand, ran to the nearest door. She swung herself up, followed by her cousin and doubtless several more after her, and made her way to the back of the train, ducking under arms and calling out greetings to friends and housemates.

          They made it to the last car before the train started moving, and followed the sounds of Étan and Andrew yelling to a compartment about halfway down after retrieving their trunks. Roxanne entered the compartment and stopped still, face contorted in silent laughter. Dominique left her trunk in the corridor and squeezed past Roxanne’s into the compartment to see what was so funny, and then stopped, taking in the sight in front of her.

          Andrew and Ella were holding Étan’s legs to keep him from falling as he dangled out the window, yelling to someone. Which would have been funny enough on its own, but the reason Roxanne had stopped breathing from laughter was because Étan’s pants had also fallen down. Dominique bit her lip, giggling into her hand as they lowered him to the ground and he pulled up his pants. Étan turned to give the piece of paper in his hand, which was clearly what he had been retrieving, to Ella, and stopped when he caught sight of the two additional girls in the compartment. He sighed and collapsed onto the seat, gesturing to Andrew.

          “You explain, my binder is suffocating me,” he said, clearly out of breath. Andrew just shrugged and pointed to the piece of paper, which Ella was now tucking into her Slytherin Quidditch messenger bag.

          “Hogsmeade slip,” he said, as if that explained everything. Which, when Dominique thought about it, it did. Ella had forgotten it, and Étan, being the incredible ray of sunshine that he was, had gone out the window to get it, not knowing how much time they had until the train was due to depart (which it had in the time it took Dominique to process this). Still laughing at the absurdity of her friends, Dominique went and got her trunk from the hallway. Grinning a little bit at the prospect, she pulled her wand out of its pocket in her bag and levitated her trunk up to the overhead rack. Magic was so nice . Dropping her bag onto one of the seats, she turned to the rest of her friends, who were still clearly recovering from such an ordeal.

          “So,” she began, grinning for real now, “how was everyone’s summer?”

Chapter Text

          Dominique was certain that this was the height of luxury. She was lying down, surrounded by her favorite people in the world, one of whom was playing with her hair, and there was a rather enormous supply of sweets to be consumed. Who needs magic when you can have this?

          Dominique was now lying across one of the two rows of seats in the compartment, her head resting on Étan’s leg. He was sitting with his back to the window, one leg propped up on the seat for Dominique to use as a pillow, and was idly playing with her hair as he talked with Andrew about their summers. Andrew was lounging on the row across from them, with his feet propped up against the unobstructed bottom of Étan’s seat, and was also being used as a pillow by a Weasley girl. Roxanne was sitting beside him, back mostly to him. Her left leg was folded in front of her, the right dangling off the seat as she leaned on Andrew’s shoulder. She was deep in conversation with Ella, who had kicked off her combat boots almost immediately and was curled up in the corner, her back to the corridor and knees propped up in front of her as she talked animatedly about the Hogwarts quidditch teams.

          Dominique smirked and reached up to tap Étan’s knee. He waited for Andrew to finish his tale of how his friend had gotten lost in Venice (“Seriously, how do you not realize that the vaporetto isn’t even in the main channel anymore?”) before bending down to ask what was up.

          “Notre petite Roxie a l’air particulièrement intéressé par l’équipe d’Hufflepuff, je pense.” Étan gave Roxanne a considering look, then added “peut-être un membre spécifique?” Dominique giggled, nodding as well as she could lying down. Roxanne was looking at them suspiciously, eyes narrowed in recognition of her name. None of the other teens spoke French, and Dominique and Étan often used it to poke lighthearted fun at them, thanks to Étan’s French birth parents (although that was about the only thing Dominique would thank them for). She raised her eyebrows at her cousin, challenging, before sitting up. Dominique ran her fingers through her hair, wrinkling her nose.

          “Rox, is my hair singed?” she asked, standing up so her cousin could see. Roxanne shook her head, rolling her eyes.

          “Oh! Speaking of the boys, guess what I nicked from Freddie last week? I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Roxanne exclaimed, rummaging through her bag. “Check this out!” She whipped out a tattered, blank piece of parchment. Étan and Ella wrinkled their brows, confused, and Andrew quirked an eyebrow, but Dominique gasped.

          “Is that what I think it is?” she asked reverently. Roxanne nodded excitedly, pulling out her wand.

          “I haven’t opened it yet; wanna do it together?” She offered, and Dominique scrambled out of Étan’s lap to grab her wand as Roxanne slid onto the floor, Dominique kneeling at her shoulder immediately. Together they tapped the center of the parchment with their wands and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good” with barely contained grins. Ink blossomed on the page from where their wands had touched, and the cousins squaled. Eyebrows shot up and eyes widened as the words “The Marauders’ Map” scrawled themselves onto the page. Ella slid over so she could see the map, tilting her head, and Étan and Andrew both leaned forward in their seats, intrigued. Dominique took one end of the map, and they watched as the ink spread to chart the entire castle.

          “How did Freddie even get this? I thought Har— James” Dominique quickly realized. “He gave it to Freddie so Harry wouldn’t find it! That little rat!” Dominique gave a gleeful cackle. The whole group had been exploring the castle since third year, but Merlin knows what they’d be able to do with the map. They’d grown up listening to stories about their uncles’ and parents’ adventures using this map.

          “Look, there’s McGonagall!” Roxanne pointed. “Huh, never would have considered her to be a pacer.”

          “Yeah, I remember her doing that when she’d first pulled me from foster care,” Étan said absentmindedly, looking for the kitchens.

          “Is that Longbottom? I’d always wondered where his quarters were.”

          “Wait then where are the quarters for the teachers who aren’t Heads?”

          “I think… Yeah, there they are, third floor.”

          “Hey Étan, do your dads have shared quarters?”

          “Yeah, they’re right—” Étan stepped forward to read the map closer. “What’s up with that writing? Can you read that?”

          “... I’m pretty sure they’re on top of each other.” Dominique looked closer with a barely concealed giggle.

          “Okay I did not need to know that.” Étan screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, more than slightly wishing someone would Obliviate him.

          “Hey where’s Dean’s classroom?” Ella asked suddenly, distracting him from his suffering.

          “Oh yeah which electives are you taking next year?” Roxanne asked, looking up from the map. Dominique shifted her knees out from under her and leaned against the seat behind her, turning her attention to Ella.

          “Runes, Astronomy, and Muggle Studies, which is why I asked about Dean’s class,” Ella listed off. “Merlin it’s gonna be weird calling him Professor… Wait, does he go by Thomas or Finnigan-Thomas?”

          “They split the names up for classes, but legally they’re Finnigan-Thomas, like me,” Étan supplied.

          “And his room is on the fourth floor, right— here,” Roxanne pointed to the classroom on the map. “Besides, imagine how weird it is for us to call our family members ‘Professor.’ Étan’s got both his parents, one in core classes, and Dom and I have Charlie, plus Neville and Alicia, who’ve been coming to Christmas since before we were born!”

          “At least Audrey doesn’t care,” Dominique said, shrugging. “Oh my god though, you’re taking Astronomy, I’m TA-ing for your class!” Ella grinned and clapped her hands together.

          “And Dean already loves you, so that’ll be a fun class,” Andrew added with a grin; the Finnigan-Thomas household was a favorite place for their group to get together.

          Ella nodded, looking a little bit less nervous about her new teachers than she had before. “Who teaches Runes, I can’t remember?”

          “Eccleston.”

          “We call her Professor X though. Like the muggle comics? She’s tough, but you’ll learn a lot, and she makes this shit interesting, which is the real magic. You ask intelligent questions; she’ll love you.” Roxanne was the only other one who’d taken Runes: Andrew, Dominique, and Étan all took Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies; Étan also took Divination, and Dominique had Advanced Astronomy. Roxanne was the nerd in the group of nerds, taking Arithmancy, Astronomy, and Runes.

          Ella looked slightly wary of her final elective, but nodded, considering.

          “All right!” Andrew jumped up. “Enough about school, we’re still technically on holiday! Who wants to play Exploding Snap? Oh and toss me a couple of licorice wands.”

***

          “Hey guys we should probably change into our robes, I think we’re almost there,” Ella said, checking her watch as Andrew shuffled the cards.

          They all groaned but agreed that yes, it did look dark and they were probably nearing the castle. There was some difficulty with all five of them moving at once, but they managed to pull the blinds down and pull robes out of bags. Most compartments, they knew, would change in the loo or spare compartments, or else arrive at the station in their robes, but when you’ve talked each other through panic attacks and more or less saved each other’s lives, changing clothes really isn’t that big of a deal.

          Andrew, being used to changing in locker rooms, simply pulled his Gryffindor Quidditch shirt off and tugged the robes over his head, swapping House pride for more House pride, and dropped his shorts under the robes.

          Étan sat down and took off his black high-tops before pulling his own badger t-shirt off, comfortable enough in his own skin in this group; he had been taking hormone potions since first year, but they worked slowly and he still wore a binder to be totally comfortable. His skinny jeans took a bit of wiggling to get out of, and then he, too, put on his robes, though, unlike Andrew, he actually buttoned the collar afterwards.

          Despite being with the group of people she was most comfortable with in the world, Roxanne was still somewhat self-conscious of her body, so she only took off her overshirt, necklace, and high-tops before unbuttoning the robes most of the way and stepping into them, so as not to mess up her hair. She buttoned them back up her front before pulling her arms inside and undressing underneath.

          Dominique went with the “fuck it my bra is cute” route, tugging her tank top off without shame and switching it for her robes. She sat down to unzip her ankle boots, toeing them off, and then hiked her robes up for easy access to her skinny jeans. She was still sitting down when she took them off, knowing she would fall flat on her face otherwise, ballet training or not. She, too. left a couple of buttons undone, but that was more for comfort than style.

          Ella took her skirt off first, which left her in tights and shorts, and then turned her back to the others before taking off her crop top and tugging on her robes; she’d decided that the hassle of changing her top under them, especially the form-hugging witches’ robes, was too much trouble. She did, however, take off her shorts to remove her tights, and then tugged the shorts back on, jumping a bit to avoid stepping on her robes. She stuffed the tights into her bag and pulled out a pair of olive-green socks, which she pulled on to replace the tights, and folded the tops down over her combat boots.

          Ella had been right about the time estimate, and when Andrew raised the blinds of the window, they could see the towers of the castle over the trees.

          “Do you ever stop and think how cool it is that we go to school in a castle ?” Étan said to no one in particular, staring up at the sky out the window. Dominique nodded, putting her hands on his shoulder and resting her chin on them, and looked at the sky with him. Dominique had always loved the stars; she didn’t generally admit it but she was afraid of the dark, and the stars always made the best nightlights. The moon too, but that also held less than nice omens in her family.

          “Can we just stay here forever?” Ella sighed wistfully, coming up behind them. “Forget about school, and homework and papers and all that. Just the five of us, here, looking at the sky?” Dominique wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her close. She felt Andrew’s presence behind them and his hand on Étan’s shoulder blade, saw Roxanne come up on the other side of Ella and take her hand. Together, they watched the stars, ignoring the castle coming into view, ignoring the sounds outside in the corridor as the arrived.

          “We’re gonna be okay,” Ella all but whispered. “As long as one person is with me, the world will never win.”

          “Well you’ve got at least four,” Dominique said into the night, squeezing her shoulder, and Ella leaned into her side.

          “Alright guys,” Roxanne said softly, trying not to break the moment, “we should probably get ready to go.” They all nodded and tore their gazes away from the window, their minds set on the present again instead of the future. They gathered their things in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the noise from the corridor. When most of the students had left the train, they made their way to the door to the platform, not wanting to be caught in the rush.

          “Oi first years, over here! Follow the lantern, try not to get trampled, that’s it! First years, this way!” Charlie Weasley called out over the swarm of students, and just like that, the solemnity was lifted. They grinned. Dominique and Roxanne immediately made their way over to their uncle, and the others followed.

          “Hey, Professor Weasley,” Dominique called out with a cheeky grin. Charlie turned towards her, immediately assuming his full “Professor” attitude.

          “Good evening, Wazlib!” He took on a pompous accent and puffed his chest out, making Ella titter behind the two cousins. “How was your holiday? Go on any adventures with that crazy family of yours?” Dominique caught sight of Rose and Albus in the swarm of 11 year olds and winked at them; their classmates looked bewildered at their new professor. Roxanne was fighting a losing battle against her giggles, and Dominique had stopped trying to hide her grin. Charlie relented, giving them a broad smile that changed his face entirely.

          “Alright, get in here you two,” Charlie said with a chuckle, dropping the act and pulling his nieces into a hug.

          “Best witches in their years, kids; listen to anything they tell you. And that fine chap,” he said, pointing to Andrew as he addressed the first years, “is my new teaching assistant. You’ll have him in a couple of years if you take my class. Listen to him and you just might make it out unscathed.” The teens chuckled at the fear that flashed across the kids’ faces, and with that, bid Charlie goodbye and the kids good luck.

          They snagged one of the last carriages up to the castle. Andrew, Étan, Dominique, and Roxanne all piled in, but Ella held back, digging around in her bag for the apple she had stashed in there that morning. Holding it in her hand, she approached the thestral pulling their carriage and offered it. The rest of them waited patiently, used to this; Ella’s grandmother had died at home when she was six. When she’d finished, Ella joined them in the carriage, and they set off for the castle, making small talk about food and first years.

***

          “Merlin, I always forget how weird it is to sit by house.” Dominique bent her head low to talk to Ella above the noise in the Great Hall. They were sitting in the middle of the long Slytherin table at the far end of the hall. They had a pretty good view of the Sorting Hat, but they also had a good view of the entrance, and that was the important part. Peeves and the members of Dumbledore’s Last Army were wreaking havoc on the entrance with everything from inkwells to water balloons and flour. Dominique had never been more grateful of her heritage than when Roxanne had walked through the door and Fred had yelled “CEASE FIRE MATES IT’S GEORGIE’S SPAWN!!!!” allowing their group to pass safely through. Still, watching everyone else get pelted was a good distraction from hunger.

          “Oh look, there goes Neville,” she called to Ella, chortling as the the ghosts stopped pelting students in order to bow down for Neville. Her uncles were proof, living and non, that she had come by the dramatics naturally. Still, Neville, as the Hogwarts staff member they respected the most (aside from McGonagall), managed to convince them to go annihilate another part of the castle, and led the line of shell-shocked first years into the Great Hall. Dominique spotted Rose’s natural curls next to Albus’ unruly black hair, both untouched by the ghosts’ assault and their dark heads bent together in whispered conversation. Those two were a no-brainer. Rose was a die-hard Ravenclaw and Al was Hufflepuff to the core. And sure enough, Al’s nerve-wracked face eased up and grinned when the hat boomed “HUFFLEPUFF” to the hall. He was a hat-stall, probably arguing with the hat about living up to his dad’s legacy or some shit like that. Rosie, on the other hand, took all of 3 seconds to be directed to the cheering Ravenclaw table. Bless , Dominique thought as she finally scooped mashed potatoes and gravy onto her plate. I love how we’re all breaking the Gryffindor line. It’s about time we got some original Weasleys . She looked down the table to Freddie, spotted Victoire, Roxanne, and now little Rosie at Ravenclaw. If she stood up she would be able to find Molly’s auburn hair, Louis’ blonde, and Al’s black at Hufflepuff. And yes, Jamie fucking Potter at Gryffindor. But that one was inevitable.