Summary: Sure, the tales of the Trio are great, and I'm not denying it. But what happens after the end of their story? Death, deception, and disagreements, to name a few things. Join Cora Potter, along with her best friends Olivia and Drew, during their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- and I can guarantee that you will never see the HP universe the same way again.
Chapter eleven is being painfully slow, isn't it? I promise to have it done by the time the queue reopens!
Categories: Post-Hogwarts Characters: None
Warnings: Book 7 Disregarded
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 10
Completed: No
Word count: 17275
Read: 32531
Published: 10/05/05
Updated: 12/24/07
1. Close Encounters of the Humiliating Kind by saveginny417
2. First Glances and Second Chances by saveginny417
3. Voices and Instincts by saveginny417
4. Unknown Forces by saveginny417
5. The First Letter by saveginny417
6. Quidditch for the Ages by saveginny417
7. Drew's Dilemma by saveginny417
8. Celebrations and Consequences by saveginny417
9. Questions and Answers by saveginny417
10. The Grief Quotient by saveginny417
Close Encounters of the Humiliating Kind by saveginny417
Disclaimer: Although most of the characters and the plot are mine, Jo Rowling created the wonderful world they inhabit and the basis for this story. She deserves full credit.
Everywhere Else is Full
Chapter 1: Close Encounters of the Humiliating Kind
“Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full.”
Those were the first words that Ron Weasley ever said to Harry Potter. That was the beginning of a friendship that lasted for, well, ever. Little did Harry or Ron know, however, that history, as it so often does, was about to repeat itself.
And not in the way you might suspect.
“Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full.”
The speaker of these fateful words was a young girl, about eleven years old. She had extremely dark brown hair, which was so thick it obscured her vision when not tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were brown, and they looked out from behind her curtain of hair as she asked her question.
“No, or at least, I don’t think so,” came the reply came from another girl, also about eleven. She had long, dark red hair and bright green eyes that always seemed to be smiling.
“Thanks.”
The girl sat down in the seat opposite the train window and stared for a while at the scenery flashing past. Then she spoke again. “I’m Olivia Abdiknot, by the way. Who are you?”
“I’m Cora. Cora Potter.”
Olivia looked at Cora the way you would look at someone who you thought you knew, but couldn’t quite remember.
“Cora Potter? I know I’ve heard your name before. Where was it? Oh, maybe it was in that book I got at Flourish and Blotts. Let me look …”
And without further ado, Olivia pulled a large book entitled Great Wizarding Events of the Twenty-first Century out of her shoulder bag and began flipping pages excitedly.
Cora watched this amusedly. It wasn’t every day that people didn’t recognize her immediately. ‘Olivia must be Muggle-born,’ she thought, ‘Otherwise she would have known exactly who I am, and would ask me a million questions like that Rita Skeeter woman Aunt Hermione hates.’
A cry of recognition jolted Cora out of her thoughts. Apparently, Olivia had found whatever it was she had been looking for.
“I knew I’d heard your name before. Here, listen to this.” She began to read aloud from the book excitedly.
“Perhaps the greatest triumph of this century to date is the defeat of The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Sole responsibility for this act goes to a Mr Harry Potter. Mr Potter is also the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, which was executed on him by You-Know-Who at the age of one. It has also recently come to light that Mr Potter was destined to destroy You-Know-Who, due to a prophecy that was made shortly before his birth. Mr. Potter currently resides in London with his wife, Ginevra, and their children, Matthew and Cora.”
Olivia looked up from her book. “That’s all it says. I don’t understand most of it, but at least I was right about hearing your name.”
“Basically, what it means is that there was an evil wizard called Voldemort, and my dad destroyed him,” said Cora, shrugging her shoulders off handedly.
“Voldemort? Was that his name?” asked Olivia.
“Yeah. And don’t call him You-Know-Who. Dad always says ‘fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself’,” remarked Cora firmly.
A young boy walked along the corridor. He had dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes and, at the moment, he was infuriated with himself.
“Andrew MacDounagh,” he told himself quietly, “You are the only person on Earth who could get lost inside a train. It’s a stationary object, for crying out loud.”
This was true. He was hopelessly lost. He had gotten up to buy some lunch from the witch with the food trolley, and was now unable to find his way back to his compartment.
A girl walked by. Drew ran to catch up with her.
“Excuse me, but I seem to have lost my way. Do you think you could help me?” he asked her desperately.
The girl, however, ignored him, and kept walking. She reached a compartment, went inside, and pulled the sliding door shut behind her.
Drew forgot to notice this detail, and walked straight into the glass door. Next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, and could hear loud laughter issuing out from behind the door, which was still closed.
“Great job, Drew. You haven’t even made it off the school train and already you’re making a fool of yourself,” he muttered quietly to himself.
He got up and walked to the end of the hall. Suddenly, the hem of his robes caught on a door bracket. He kept walking, however, and the robes ripped. The force of this sent him rolling head-over-heels into another compartment, whose door was, mercifully, open.
“So, let me get this straight.” Olivia was trying to comprehend the amazing story that Cora had just told her. “Your dad is responsible for the downfall of the most evil wizard who ever lived?”
Cora nodded. Olivia let out a low whistle. “I bet he’s proud of that.”
“Actually, he’s not. He thinks-”
But Olivia never found out what Cora’s dad thought. Because at that moment, something came rolling into their compartment.
Drew got up and shook his hair out of his eyes. Two girls were staring at him with mixed expressions of disgust and amusement on their faces, the former being Olivia, the latter Cora who found it extremely funny.
“Hi. I’m Drew.” It was a lousy comeback, but it was the best he could do.
“And you’re Cora Potter,” he said, not without a hint of awe in his voice. “But I don’t know who you are,” he said, looking at Olivia who stared back at him.
Cora sighed. ‘Well,’ she thought, ‘Easy come, easy go.’
Olivia brushed her hair out of her eyes and said, a bit too loudly, “I’m Olivia”.
Cora said “Are you all right, Drew? You kind of, well, came in here without the usual method of transport.”
Drew laughed. “Yeah, that happens to me a lot. By the way, do either of you know where compartment 15B is? I got lost.”
“This is 27B” said Olivia snidely; the embarrassment of Drew not knowing exactly who she was had put her nose out of joint.
“Really? That’s odd. Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’m a bit curious, myself.”
“I’m bound to be in Gryffindor, Mum and Dad were, and Mum’s whole family has been for about six generations. What about you, Olivia?” Cora inquired of her new friend.
“I really don’t know. My mother has never even heard of Hogwarts, and, well, I’ve never met my father. I guess he was a wizard; otherwise I wouldn’t be a witch, right? But I have no idea who he is and-”
Olivia broke off and suddenly became very interested in the darkening landscape outside the window.
“Erm, what house do you think you’ll be in, Drew?” Cora hadn’t known Olivia very long, but she could tell that the topic of her father was best left alone.
“Well, Mum was in Ravenclaw, and Dad’s a Muggle, but I hope I’m in Gryffindor. I’m brave and smart and all those things. I just have the added bonus of being clumsy.”
Cora laughed, but Olivia’s gaze remained steadfast on what was now a lot of marshland out the window.
Drew decided that this was probably a good time to leave.
“Um, I have to go. I just remembered Mum told me to find Geena Weasley if I got lost, which I obviously did, although I think this is a bit earlier than she expected. She’s a fourth-year, and apparently her father knew the school like the back of his hand.”
“Geena Weasley? She’s my cousin. Tell her I say hi.” Cora said.
“Alright. I guess I’ll see you guys later.” Drew took his cue and left.
Olivia sighed. “What ever house I’m in, I hope he’s not sharing it with me.”
Cora nodded. “That was certainly humiliating.”
A/N: Please read and review! This is my first fanfic, and I really want to know what other people think of it. The old adage “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” is completely wrong here, I don’t care if you shout insults at me! Just please tell me what you think.
Also thanks to the wonderful Lurid, beta-d for me, (if you haven’t read Malicious Intentions yet, go do it now) and my friend Joe,who (a) let me base Drew on him, and (b) let me pester him at lunch every day with random questions such as “Do you like cheese?” and things like that.
First Glances and Second Chances by saveginny417
Chapter 2: First Glances and Second Chances
The train pulled up at the station. Cora got out, followed closely by Olivia. A shout rang out in the throng of people.
“Firs’ years, over here. This way, firs’ years.” An enormous man with black hair and beard was calling to Hogwarts’ youngest students.
“Come on, Olivia. We have to go find Hagrid.” Cora pulled Olivia towards the voice.
“Hagrid? Who’s Hagrid?” Olivia asked.
“He’s Hagrid. I thought everyone knew Hagrid. He’s sort of hard to miss.” Cora gestured in the direction of the large man.
"Oh.” Olivia understood now.
They walked towards Hagrid. When they reached him, they stood with the group of nervous looking children who shared the designation of ‘first year’. Cora recognized some of them. Mostly, there were just people she knew by sight. Cora swore she had seen a girl with brunette braids years ago at a press conference her dad had dragged her to. But others she knew by name. Drew was standing slightly to Hagrid’s left, looking thoroughly lost again, and to her dismay, an only-to-familiar blonde boy was standing right next to her. His name was Pertino. Pertino Malfoy.
There was a mutual hatred between Cora and Pertino. It was just one of those things. Inheritance, maybe. Anyway, Pertino hated Cora because her father had landed his father in Azkaban, the wizard’s prison. Cora hated Pertino, well, because he hated her. There was nothing she could do about it.
“Oy, Potter! Did your dad let you come here willingly, or did you have to stow away on the school train?” Malfoy was up to his old tricks again, and they had barely been there for three minutes.
“Just because your father has been out of your sight for the last ten years doesn’t mean my father never lets me out of his.” Cora felt compelled to retaliate nastily.
“Alrigh’, you two. Stop yer infernal bickerin’. Time to get a move on.” Hagrid decided to put a stop to the unkind remarks.
“Cora, who was that?” Olivia asked, as they hurried along behind Hagrid.
“Pertino Malfoy. Git.” Cora replied heatedly.
“Oh.” Olivia could think of nothing else to say. Then they rounded a corner and looked up at Hogwarts castle. Olivia repeated herself, although in a slightly different tone of voice. “Ohhhhh.”
Cora stared. She had heard about Hogwarts, of course, but had never actually been there. She now understood why, when she had asked her father what Hogwarts looked like, the answer had been ‘bloody amazing’. The answer from her mother hadn’t been much more descriptive, although that could have been because Matt, Cora’s brother, and Ethan, one of Cora’s numerous cousins, had gotten hold of either end of Mrs. Potter’s wand and were attempting to snap it in half. Uncle Ron had just stared, mistily, out of the kitchen window, and Aunt Hermione had gone off on a long- winded lecture that Cora had paid absolutely no attention to. Cora loved her aunt, but Hermione talked just a bit too much to be allowed. Only Geena had come up with what Cora thought was an adequate answer. “It’s the magic castle in the sky that everyone dreams about times a billion and then some.” That was perfectly true, except for the part about being in the sky.
“No more’n four to a boat,” Hagrid called, pointing towards a fleet of small boats that were apparently supposed to transport them across the lake. Cora and Olivia were followed into their boat by the brunette girl Cora had seen earlier and, to Olivia’s dismay, Drew.
The boats set off, and proceeded to float across the lake entirely of their own accord. Suddenly, with a shout and a splash, the boat rocked violently and Drew was thrown unceremoniously into the water. A large tentacle slowly unfurled itself from the surface and began to creep towards him. Hagrid, with surprising agility, whipped out a pink umbrella and muttered something that sounded like “eyelashio” to Cora, who was nearest. The tentacle in the lake went back under the surface. Then Hagrid mumbled something to the sound of “ashtio”, and Drew was suddenly back in the boat, bringing with him a considerable amount of water, which promptly soaked Olivia.
Olivia sighed, but only Cora heard, as the sound was masked by the chattering of her teeth.
They reached the castle. Usually, things look better from far away, but the opposite was true here, Hogwarts looked better now than it did from the other side of the lake. Hagrid raised his enormous hand and knocked three times on the oak front door. It swung open immediately to reveal an extremely small old man in a pointy hat.
“Thank you, Hagrid,” he said, in a high, squeaky voice. “I’ll take them from here. Follow me, please.”
The first years obliged, and trudged off into a chamber off the entrance hall.
“Welcome to Hogwarts!” the old man said when they had all assembled. “I am Professor Flitwick. In a few moments, you will be sorted into our houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house is like your family. Good behavior will earn house points, while any rule breaking will lose hose points. The house with the most points at the end of term wins the House Cup.
“The Sorting Ceremony will begin soon. I will come back when we are ready for you.” Flitwick turned and walked through the door, back into the entrance hall.
“How do they sort you?” Olivia whispered to Cora, who seemed like the sort of person who would know that sort of thing.
“I dunno, Dad never said. He did say not to believe the rumors, though.”
Indeed, rumors were now flying fast and furious through the air in the small chamber. They ranged in everything from ‘you have to fight a mountain troll, to ‘you have to make a pineapple fly’. Olivia was glad that Cora had told her that none of these were true, because even the smallest prospect suddenly seemed huge and difficult. Drew was muttering something about a ‘crumple-horned snorkack’ right next to Olivia, and this only helped to deepen her bad mood. First she had been interrogated about her father, then she got soaked, and now there was the looming prospect of and unknown test. Thanks a bundle, Drew.
Olivia’s thoughts were interrupted by the squeak of a door hinge and the squeak of Professor Flitwick’s voice. “We’re ready for you. Please follow me.”
They trudged after Professor Flitwick once more, and soon reached an enormous room that seemed to contain the entire student body, which was a reasonable assumption, because it did. To avoid looking at anybody, Cora looked up at the ceiling, and gasped audibly. There seemed to be no ceiling at all, instead, there was just sky.
Olivia sensed Cora’s befuddlement, and whispered from behind her “It’s only enchanted to look like the sky. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History.”
Cora nodded to say that she had heard, for they had reached the front of the hall and silence had fallen. Everybody in the hall turned and stared intently at an old hat, patched and fraying, that had been placed in front of the first years. Suddenly, a rip near the hat’s brim opened and it began to sing.
You may not know me, but you will
My wisdom’s legendary
So look beyond my wrinkled brim
For logic’s not arbitrary
It’s time for you to gather round
And by my say, be sorted
My job is finished when you’re housed
By qualities purported.
Hufflepuffs hone loyalty
And friendships tried and true
Just you and I know certainly
If that applies to you.
If cunning, quick, and sly you are
How well you will fit in
With others of your righteous ilk
Sharing halls of Slytherin.
In Ravenclaw smarts are revered
They don’t rely on hunch
Do you indeed have what it takes
To be brightest of the bunch?
Today’s much made of bravery
But in daring days of yore
Deeds were done with chivalry
By folks in Gryffindor.
Now you may think that you know best
But do not be misled
I’m never wrong and don’t intend
To start whilst on your head.
So take your seat, your head held high
Each placement has been won<
For seven years your bed is set
My sorting song is done.
The students seated around the hall broke into applause. Cora watched the hat apprehensively. She had been certain, a few moments ago, of being in Gryffindor, but now she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t feeling particularly brave at the moment.
“Now,” said Professor Flitwick, “When I call your name, come and sit on the stool and put the Sorting Hat on your head. Then you will be sorted.
“Abdiknot, Olivia!”
Olivia started. It hadn’t occurred to her that the Sorting would be in alphabetical order, or that ‘Abdiknot’ would almost certainly be first. Tentatively, she approached the hat, sat down, and placed it on her head, where it slid down over her eyes.
Cora watched her friend hopefully. She knew she couldn’t control anything, but she was very bad at making friends and hoped she wouldn’t have to do it again.
“GRYFFINDOR!” The shout rang through the hall and the table on the left cheered happily as Olivia joined them.
“Archnit, Joseph” was made a Hufflepuff, as was “Balk, Sarah”. “Borchman, Gabriel” was sent to Ravenclaw, but “Cabner, Mercy” became the first Slytherin. After that, Cora became lost in her own thoughts and didn’t come out until she heard a familiar name. “Macdounagh, Andrew.” Drew almost tripped on his shoelaces when walking towards the Sorting Hat, but regained his balance and got his wish.
“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat, and Drew sat down at the Gryffindor table. Cora caught a glance of Olivia, who looked like she wanted to throw something, but forced herself to shake Drew’s hand along with the rest of the house.
“Malfoy, Pertino” was called right after Drew. The hat had barely touched his white-blonde head before “SLYTHERIN” rang through the hall once more.
There weren’t many people left now.” Norton, Elizabeth” was sent to the Ravenclaw table, followed by “Newbury, Steven”. Then there was “Parker, Seth”, “Parsons, Audrey”, and then suddenly, finally-
“Potter, Cora!”
A/N: Please be nice and review!
Thanks, once again, to the wonderful Lurid. (If you still haven’t read Malicious Intentions, I don’t have the faintest idea why you’re here.) Also, thanks to Joe for behaving so weirdly and letting me write about it, and my mom, who wrote the sorting song. I have no rhyming talent whatsoever.
Voices and Instincts by saveginny417
Chapter 3: Voices and Instincts
“Potter, Cora!”
Professor Flitwick’s pronouncement was met by silence at first, which was soon broken by a large upsurge in the noise level as everyone started whispering excitedly. Nobody this famous had gone to Hogwarts since Harry Potter himself, twenty-four years ago.
Cora gulped and slowly walked towards the Sorting Hat. The last thing she saw before the darkness inside the hat engulfed her was, by the look of it, hundreds of people staring straight at her. She was glad when she could no longer see them; crowds had always made her feel uncomfortable.
“Hmmm,” said a small voice in her ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. There’s courage, but also fear. Desire. A certain ‘snakelike’ ability. And talent. Mustn’t forget that. But where shall you go?”
“If you please,” Cora thought hastily, “I’d rather not be in Slytherin.”
“Not Slytherin? You could be great, you know. And Slytherin will help you on the way. Still no? Your father was exactly the same way. If you’re sure, then. GRYFFINDOR!”
Cora heard the last word shouted so the entire hall heard. She took off the hat and handed it to ‘Quentin, Nora’ before walking shakily to the Gryffindor table and sitting down next to Olivia.
“Hooray! We’re in the same house!” Olivia couldn’t contain her excitement about being placed with her friend.
“Yeah, but Drew’s here too.” Cora was a bit pessimistic by nature, and felt compelled to point out this factor.
“Ah, forget about him for now. I hope we can eat soon, I’m starving.”
Unfortunately, the Sorting went on for at least ten more minutes. Finally, ‘Zwinkler, Chad’ joined the Slytherin table, and Professor Flitwick picked up the stool (and this was with some difficulty, for it was bigger than he was) and carried it out of the Great Hall.
A tall witch Cora hadn’t noticed before, who was seated in the middle of the table, stood up. Silence fell as quickly as a brick would if you dropped it on Jupiter. “Welcome to Hogwarts!” she said. “Let the feast begin!”
Immediately, heaping amounts of food appeared on the table in front of them. Cora and Olivia helped themselves to everything they could reach.
“Congrats on making Gryffindor, Cora,” said a voice behind them.
Cora spun around. Standing behind the table was a girl who looked about fourteen, with frizzy, bright red hair and blue eyes. She grinned at Cora, showing slightly crooked teeth.
“Geena!” Cora all but shrieked her name, and pulled the girl down on the bench next to her.
Olivia pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at the older girl more closely. So this was the famous ‘Geena Weasley’ she had heard so much about during the past few hours. She really didn’t seem all that interesting. Olivia brushed her hair away once more and turned back to her mashed potatoes.
“Here, use this.” Geena handed Olivia what looked like an ordinary rubber band. “Stick your hair up in it, it won’t fall out.”
Olivia quickly twisted her dark locks into a ponytail. The rubber band flashed bright red and then faded to the exact same shade of espresso as Olivia’s hair.
“Wow, thank you,” said Olivia. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“That’s a Gred and Forge product, Geena?” asked Cora absently.
“Oh no, I bought in Godric’s Hollow, summer before last,” replied Geena sarcastically. “Of course it’s a Weasley product. I’ve got about five hundred, if you need another one just ask. Apparently, they don’t sell very well, so I get them by default. It drives Mum mad. Mind you, most things drive Mum mad.”
Cora started to reply, but was distracted by a loud thump, which was Olivia taking out her book again.
“What on earth are you doing, Olivia?” asked Cora, mystified by her friend’s odd behavior.
“There’s a genealogy section in the back of the book. I’m trying to find out who all those people you keep mentioning are.”
“That’s easy. Gred and Forge are-“
“Don’t tell me, I want to find out myself.”
Geena looked at Olivia in amazement. “Olivia, have you ever met my mother?”
“I dunno. If you leave me alone, I can look her up, and then I’ll know if I’ve met her or not. Why?”
“Because,” said Cora, “Her-, er, my aunt, does exactly the same thing every time she hears a name she doesn’t know.”
Olivia said nothing and continued to flip pages. Geena turned back to Cora, a bit bored with the proceedings. Before she could say anything, however, Olivia put down her book with a satisfying thump.
“What did I tell you? I’ve found the entire ‘Weasley’ family for about seventeen generations.”
Cora bent down to look. Sure enough, there were the names of all her aunts, uncles, cousins, and obscure relations.
“How’d you know my surname was Weasley?” asked Geena.
“You said so yourself,” said Olivia.
“I did not. I said my uncle’s surname was Weasley.”
“Well, your surname is Weasley, too. It says so right there. 'Geena Beth Weasley’. Unless there’s someone else named Geena I should know about. Is there?”
“No,” said Cora, firmly. “There isn’t.”
“Well, that settles things, then,” said Geena. “I guess I’ll have to talk to you guys later, Laura Wood wants to discuss Quidditch. Dunno why she’s bothering, we’re a player short as it is. Oh dear, she’s frowning at me. Got to run. Coming, Laura!” Geena
set off hurriedly before the Quidditch Captain could stare her down any further.
“Boy, I’m parched,” said Olivia suddenly. She reached for her goblet and downed it in one gulp.
“Hey!” said a voice. “You stole my pumpkin juice!”
It was Drew, who had apparently been sitting across from them for about twenty minutes without anyone noticing him in the slightest.
“No,” said Olivia, “I stole my pumpkin juice.”
“You admitted to stealing the pumpkin juice!”
Olivia threw up her hands in despair. Couldn’t she get anywhere with this kid?
Gradually, the remnants of the food vanished from the golden plates. Dessert had come and gone as well. The tall witch (who was the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, as Olivia had learned from Cora over the meal) stood up again. Silence fell with an audible noise, so fast was the reaction.
“Once again, I must say, welcome to Hogwarts!” said Professor McGonagall loudly, although the volume wasn’t necessary. “I am sure that this is the beginning of another exceptional year.
“Now, a few start-of-term notices. I am pleased to announce that Professor Slughorn has agreed to stay on as Potions Master for at least another year. However, we do have some changes to our staff. Professor Trewlany has decided to retire, in order to ‘fine-tune’ her abilities. All Divination classes will now be taught by Professor Firenze. In addition, Professor Andronicus, who has taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for the longest term ever recorded, (fifteen years, I believe) has also decided to retire. So, it is with great pleasure that I welcome Professor Thomas.”
There was a smattering of applause through the hall. A tall, black man seated next to Professor McGonagall raised a hand in recognition. This, Cora supposed, was Professor Thomas. He seemed familiar, somehow, but she couldn’t quite place him.
Professor McGonagall resumed her speech, but Cora no longer paid attention. She didn’t really care about the ban on ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’, and anyway, Fred and George had told her expressly not to pay attention to that, or else.
No, it was something about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that was bothering her. And the fact that she couldn’t figure out what it was that bothered her, bothered her even more. She was so bothered, in fact, that when the hall erupted around her (McGonagall had obviously dismissed them) she walked numbly out of the hall behind Olivia. She was so absorbed that she didn’t even notice where she was going until she walked into something blocking her path.
“Potter,” said a high, cold voice. It wasn’t a question.
A/N: Oho! Another cliffie! I didn’t mean for it to be like that, it just sorta turned out that way. Please review so I can update! I really do take your suggestions into account and try to use them.
In case you didn’t know, Jupiter has a rather higher gravity rate than Earth, and things fall much faster there.
Once again, I must give credit where credit is due. So kudos to Lurid for beta-ing again! Also Joe. He actually wrote the whole pumpkin juice bit at lunch one day. Chapter 4 will be up ASAP!
Unknown Forces by saveginny417
A note to the mods: I know this seems AU, but it isn’t. Trust me.
Everywhere Else is Full
Chapter 4: Unknown Forces
Cora spun around. Her hair fanned out wildly, and the smile was gone from her eyes. The voice she had just heard wasn’t one she had heard before, but she knew instantly who it belonged to: Lord Voldemort.
But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Voldemort was dead, her father had killed him. Cora knew the story so well she could have recited it backwards while standing on her head underwater, although she hadn’t tried it. Still, the thought unnerved her.
“Cora? Are you all right?” The tentative voice that spoke now was Olivia’s, and it sounded genuinely worried.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Someone calling me.”
“Yeah … I just did-,”
“No, no, it wasn’t you it was- somebody else.”
Olivia was still worried, but in her mind, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
“Erm, fascinating and somewhat creepy though this is, I really don’t think this is where we should be discussing it. Besides, I know I’m going to get lost, and it might be a bit harder to do if I actually knew where I was supposed to be going.”
“Right,” agreed Cora. Then, as though Olivia had been the one holding her up, “C’mon, then.”
And she turned rapidly and hurried after the receding backs of the other Gryffindors, Olivia following in her wake.
The next few days were uneventful, or, at least, as uneventful as it is possible to be in a school of magic. Despite Olivia’s worries, they miraculously managed not to get lost very often. Classes were fascinating. Even Cora, who had been raised in a house full of magic, thought that they were nothing short of brilliant.
Tiny Professor Flitwick, whom they had met on their first evening, taught Charms from atop a stack of cushions and Muggle phone books. Once a week they escaped the hustle and bustle of the main school for Herbology lessons in the greenhouses. At midnight on Tuesdays, they mapped the planets during Astronomy.
By far the hardest subject, for Cora at least, was Transfiguration. Transfiguration was taught by a witch called Professor Spinnet, who also happened to be head of Gryffindor House. Although Professor Spinnet made Transfiguration seem as easy as tying shoelaces, Cora soon found that it was much, much harder than it looked. She was not the only one with troubles, however; Olivia was much better at Charming things than Transfiguring them, and Drew MacDounagh was, in his own words, ‘completely awful’.
Once Cora had gotten over the shock of having a teacher she couldn’t place (She supposed her dad had mentioned him a few times), Defense Against the Dark Arts quickly became her favorite class. Professor Thomas seemed to know what he was doing, and his lessons were rather enjoyable. He told his eager class that he had had seven different Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers during his years at Hogwarts, and only one had been competent. Three of them had been murderers, one was a werewolf, and one had erased his own memory by mistake.
Three lessons on, however, Cora was forced to come to the conclusion that although she was certainly enjoying herself in Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, she hadn’t actually learnt anything. She pointed this out to Olivia on the second Tuesday of term as they walked down to breakfast behind the other girls in their dormitory: Jennifer Raeden, Cassidy Volten, and Brianna Eldridge.
Olivia agreed. “I mean, really. Werewolves are fascinating, but I thought the class was ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’, not ‘The Long and Uninterrupted Memoirs of Professor Dean Thomas’.”
Cora giggled, and they entered the Great Hall at the same time as the post owls did. These owls served the same purpose as Muggle postmen did; that is, they delivered mail each morning. Olivia, who had grown up in the Muggle world, hadn’t understood why they were there on the first morning a week ago, but now hardly gave the owls a thought. She was surprised, therefore, when a large tawny owl landed in front of her as she sat down at the Gryffindor table.
“Cora?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“Is this your owl?”
Cora looked up from the jar of marmalade she was in the middle of pouring over her toast. “No. Dad’s got a snowy owl, but I’ve never seen that one before.”
Olivia pulled a letter out of the owl’s beak. It was addressed, quite plainly, to:
Olivia Abdiknot
The Great Hall
Hogwarts School
Olivia blinked. “I never get mail.”
Cora looked up from the marmalade again. “Well, you have now, haven’t you? Who’s it from?”
Olivia flipped the letter over. There was no postmark, but a return address stated the origin of the letter: Islington.
Olivia stared at the back of the letter. “Cora! It’s from Islington!”
Cora raised an eyebrow. “What’s in Islington?”
“That’s where I live! What if it says something horrible has happened?” Olivia sounded panicked.
Cora’s eyebrows went a bit higher. “It could just be a birthday card or something.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “My birthday’s in April!”
“I knew that. But look, Liv, you’re not going to know what it is until you’ve read it.”
Olivia laughed embarrassedly. ”I knew that.” With slightly trembling fingers, she unfolded the letter and began to read. Her eyes widened as they slid down the page, and when they reached the bottom, tears were wavering in them. She handed the letter to Cora.
“Read it, please. I want to know what it really says. Because it can’t say what I think it does. It had better not.” Without another word, Olivia reached for the now close-to-empty marmalade jar and turned it upside-down over her glass of orange juice.
Mystified, Cora opened the letter and began to read.
Dear Olivia…
A/N: Considering this is a very short chapter, it took a very long time to write. So sorry about that. I mean it when I say that I’ll try to have 5 up more quickly, but I now have midterms and projects and things to contend with. In the meantime, have fun reading the timeline I’m going to put on my bio to help UN-confuse people, or my wonderful beta’s story, or whatever. Don’t forget to review! Please?
The First Letter by saveginny417
Chapter 5- The First Letter
Dear Olivia,
You know me. I shan’t deny it. We have met before, frequently. Extremely frequently, actually. My name is Nymphadora Tonks. I am the person you thought was your mother for the past eleven years.
I know you well enough to know that you don’t understand what I have just told you. Let me explain: Eleven years ago, you were found by a Ministry of Magic official. A few hours with you were enough to convince him of three things. These are 1) that you were a witch, 2) that your power has been surpassed by only two others in the history of wizard kind, and 3) that you were by no means meant to be left alone in some Muggle orphanage.
And so, the task to care for you fell to me: a clumsy Auror (dark wizard catcher) with nothing else to do since the fall of Lord Voldemort. Surely, you’ve heard of him. But anyway, my orders were to protect you: to keep you away from magic until you were old enough to understand, but close enough you were never endangered.
But why, you ask? Why were you kept impervious to magic? And why was I there? Your guess is as good as mine. I only know that the Ministry has messed it up before- twice. They weren’t in a hurry to do it again. As to who your real parents are, I haven’t got a clue. The only thing I’ve discovered about the name “Abdiknot” is that there are no male wizards with that surname, so it must come from your mother’s side. I’m sorry that this is all the help I can give you.
And now, you say, this must be a lie. This can’t be true. You refuse to believe it. I’m sorry for the rude awakening, dear, but every word I’ve written here is true. Would I lie to you?
I’ve just realized something. I’ve lied to you every day for the past eleven years. I am so, so sorry that this is the way things had to be. I hope you can understand. I hope you can forgive me. I will completely understand if you hate me forever. But I want you to know that I never had any intentions of caring for you, of ever doing anything other than what I was ordered to do by the Ministry of Magic, and that those intentions were demolished more than ten years ago. You really are the most powerful witch I’ve ever met.
You are, of course, still welcome here in Islington during the holidays, and over the summer, but I will understand if you would rather not come.
Yours most sincerely,
Nymphadora Tonks (but you can call me whatever you like)
Cora put down the letter gingerly, as though afraid it might explode. This was an absurd thought, as it wasn’t a Howler, but given the circumstances she believed anything like this letter extremely volatile.
“Liv?”
Olivia looked up from the marmalade so fast her hair whipped around and hit her full in the face. Pulling a hair elastic similar to the one Geena her on the first night of term out of her pocket, she tied it absently around her hair, ignoring the now familiar red flash. “Well?” she demanded, in a high-pitched voice that was not hers. “What does it say?”
“Er, well, it, er, goes on to say that-“ began Cora, but Olivia cut her off.
“It wouldn’t,” she persisted, in the same high, slightly hysterical voice, “have anything whatsoever to do with the fact that- oh, let’s think- maybe the woman I lived with and trusted as my mother for eleven years isn’t actually related to me in any way at all?” The look on her face told Cora quite plainly what the answer was supposed to be. But Cora couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Actually…that’s exactly what it does say.”
Olivia stared at Cora in disbelief for a full ten seconds, then burst into tears.
“Oh, Olivia…” Cora wanted to comfort her friend, to tell her that everything would turn out all right. But she couldn’t. Cora had never comforted anyone before. Instead, her mother had soothed her, when Cora had scraped her knee or when Matt had lit her broomstick on fire, and now that it was her turn Cora found that she didn’t quite know how.
Olivia had now abandoned all restraint and was now sobbing uncontrollably into Cora’s shoulder. Ignoring the strange looks they were drawing from other students, Cora poured Olivia another glass of orange juice (as her previous glass was now full of marmalade) and leaned back in her chair. “I think we’re…going to be a bit late for Herbology.”
As it turned out, they were not late for Herbology. They missed it entirely. This was due to the fact that they- along with Drew MacDounagh, for some reason- spent the entire period outside Professor Spinnet’s office. (Professor Slughorn had passed their seats at the Gryffindor table at about the same time Olivia had started crying, and suggested they speak to their head of house as soon as possible.) Apparently, Olivia had not been the only first year Gryffindor to receive bad news over breakfast that morning.
Cora waited while Olivia talked to Professor Spinnet. It was now lunchtime, so she didn’t feel guilty about missing lessons. Besides, Herbology was Olivia’s best subject, and Cora wasn’t bad either. To her surprise, a smile cracked over Olivia’s face when the door opened, something that had not happened since the two of them had joked about their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher some three hours previously.
“Thank you, Professor!” Olivia called through the doorway, and practically skipped past Cora and down the marble staircase towards the Great Hall. Bewildered again, Cora shot a quizzical look at the only person in the vicinity- Drew MacDounagh. Drew raised an eyebrow at her, apparently as confused, if not more so. But Drew hadn’t read the letter, Cora thought, so that didn’t make any sense or explain anything. Cora decided to wonder about Drew’s odd behavior later, and hurried downstairs after Olivia. Herbology was one thing, but being late for Charms was punishable by law (or at least by detention).
That night in the common room, Olivia and Cora sat by a window, making up the work they had missed that morning. Every so often, a faint smile would flit across Olivia’s face. As Cora found no joy whatsoever in writing a two foot essay on the dangers of Devil’s Snare, she was bewildered yet again. Eventually she decided to break the silence that had fallen thick over their corner, as if Professor McGonagall had somehow materialized in their midst.
“Olivia?” The name made the person in question jump slightly, as though startled.
“Mhm?” Olivia looked as though she was leaving the world of her homework very reluctantly. Maybe Devil’s Snare was fascinating.
“Are you, er, feeling all right?”
“Yes. Should I not be?” Now it was Olivia’s turn to sound bewildered.
Cora backtracked. “It’s just…I think I’ve missed something.”
“About the Devil’s Snare? It hates sunlight. And you should never put it in a pot, because it could strangle you. The most famous case of this was in 1996, when-”
“Olivia! I don’t care about the plant!”
“Oh.” Olivia looked slightly crestfallen. Cora tried backtracking again, as it hadn’t worked the first time.
“What I meant was, are you all right about that letter? Have I missed something in the middle? Because this morning, you were just sobbing . Then you talked to Spinnet (at least I thought you did) and then you were floating. I mean, I know you weren’t actually floating until Charms, because I couldn’t aim that Wingardium Leviosa spell if my life depended on it… and now we’re sitting here and apparently everything’s just fine. I mean, you’re rattling off everything I never wanted to know about Devil’s Snare. So, I have to say it again: have I missed something?”
Olivia giggled. Cora stared at her. Usually, after a monologue like that, the audience (her mother, normally) had to take an aspirin and lie down for twenty minutes or so. This mode of reaction was completely new to her.
“Well, I did talk to Professor Spinnet. She told me two things, mostly. First, she said that everything in the letter was completely true, which made me feel bad again. But then she said that the two people who have more power than I do and the two people who were left to grow up in Muggle society were the same.”
“Really?” asked Cora, incredulous. “That’s a major coincidence.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, I said ‘Professor, that’s a pretty fishy coincidence’ and she said ‘No, Olivia, it’s not a coincidence at all.’
“So then she explained a bit more, and I still didn’t get it.Really. I honestly had no idea what she was talink about. She said something about Voldemort and something else about Harry Potter, but I didn't have a clue what she meant. And apparently, she understood that she was making my mind go in repetitive circles. She said to me ‘Olivia, this discussion is not getting us anywhere,’.”
Cora rolled her eyes. The discussion about the discussion wasn’t getting them anywhere either. Olivia pretended she hadn’t noticed, and kept talking.
“She said that I should write back to this…this ‘Tonks’ person, and tell her how that letter she sent me made me feel. Then I should go back to Islington for Christmas, and see what happens.”
Cora nodded. “I think you should, too.”
“Oh, I’m going to!” The mischievous smile crept back across Olivia’s face. “She said something else as well.”
“What?”
“That if I needed something to take my mind off things, I should try out for the Quidditch team.”
“The Quidditch team? Liv, do you know how to play Quidditch at all?”
Olivia thought about that. “No.”
There was a pause. Cora obviously thought Olivia wasn’t going to say anything else, and turned back to her Herbology essay. Suddenly, Olivia spoke again. “But…I think I will.”
“Will what?”
“Try out for the Quidditch team. After all, how hard could it be?”
A/N: Well, this chapter was longer! I hope you are all proud of me: a longer chapter in a shorter amount of time! As always, reviews are appreciated. Be sure to check out my beta, Lurid’s, awesome stories: Malicious Intentions and The Potters and the Blacks, a Family Torn Apart…, as well as the awesome banner I made for her! (you didn’t know I could make banners! I can! If you want one, email me.) Also thanks to my friend Niko, who bought me the iTunes gift card I used to buy the songs I listened to incessantly while writing this. She rocks! Please review! Please?
3/12/06- This chapter has been edited per request by many reviewers. hopefully it makes more sense now.
Quidditch for the Ages by saveginny417
Chapter 6- Quidditch for the Ages
It soon became apparent to Olivia that Quidditch was hard. Extremely hard. But she didn’t let that (Or the pouring rain) dampen her spirits. She seemed to have taken her “parental deception” as Cora called it personally, and was fighting back the only way she could.
And so it happened that from that point until the Quidditch trials there was not a single night when the view from the east windows in the castle was not obscured by two figures mounted on broomsticks. Occasionally, four figures.
The first two silhouettes were, of course, Olivia and a slightly reluctant Cora. She could think of a whole plethora of things she’d like to do more than getting frozen to a broomstick in the rain. However, she played along because she knew how much Quidditch suddenly meant to Olivia.
The other two shadows belonged to Geena Weasley and her friend Julie McFadden. Both girls currently played on the team, though different positions: Julie was Chaser while Geena played Keeper. Olivia was grateful for their presence; they gave excellent tips and promised to put in a good word for her with Laura Wood, a sixth-year girl who was Captain of the team.
At first, the problem of broomsticks loomed quite large. The old rule about first-years and brooms had been abolished years ago, but if the first-year in question didn’t have a broom to begin with, they were out of luck. Cora had a broom, an old Cleansweep Seventeen she had purchased at age seven when her brother had set her prized Nimbus on fire. Olivia, however, had grown up in the Muggle world, and owned no such luxury. She was apt to practice on a school broom, but Cora put her foot down: it was simply impossible to play Chaser on a Shooting Star or a Comet 180. Eventually they reached an accord: Olivia rode Cora’s broomstick while Cora borrowed one from her cousin Anna, a Ravenclaw sixth-year who owned a broom for the sole purpose of saying she had one.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t spend all their time in the air. As September was blown away and replaced with a gusty October, their hours of soaring through the sky were replaced by hours of pouring over heavy books by the Common Room fire. Course work was becoming harder.
In Transfiguration, for example, all were expected to have changed their matches into needles and back again. When only Drew MacDounagh managed the feat, Professor Spinnet lectured them all about trying harder and set them extra homework. Even in the easiest class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was no respite; Professor Thomas was still plowing along with the never-ceasing recount of his life in high detail.
The first Saturday of October heralded the beginning of the Quidditch season. Though the first match, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was not to be played until mid-November, both teams had lost players at the hands of graduation and needed to recruit new players. Therefore, they both held trials on the Saturday in question.
Since Gryffindor was only down one player, and Ravenclaw needed four, Laura Wood let them go first. Olivia thought this showed very good sportsmanship on Laura’s part, until Cora muttered to her that this was only so Laura could find out Ravenclaws strengths before they played them in November.
At three in the afternoon, Ravenclaw had compiled its team and set off back to the castle. The six members of the Gryffindor team marched onto the pitch and stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the stands where the hopefuls sat.
Laura took charge at once. She began talking in such a monotone that Cora suspected the speech hardly ever varied. Indeed, one of the Beaters was mumbling along under his breath.
After droning on for a full five minutes, the action finally began. Nine people were vying for the only available position, Chaser. Laura and Geena divided them into teams of three; they would proceed from there. Olivia was paired with a fourth-year boy who addressed himself as “Chris” and a haughty sixth-year girl who seemed too disgusted with her teammates to say anything at all.
From the stands, Cora watched apprehensively. She knew how badly Olivia wanted the spot, and she also knew how badly she would feel if she managed to lose it. Because there was no denying it: Olivia was good! Cora sometimes wondered how it had happened so quickly, for Olivia swore she had never been on a broomstick until a month ago.
A greeting interrupted her thoughts. “Hey.”
Cora looked up. It was Drew MacDounagh. “Mind if I sit here?”
Cora shrugged and looked back at the Quidditch pitch. Olivia had just made a very good catch and passed the Quaffle to the sixth-year girl, who promptly dropped it. Cora would have smiled if the situation hadn’t been so dire.
“She’s very good, isn’t she?” Drew had started talking again. Cora shrugged again, not taking her eyes away from the action. The fourth-year called Chris had just overthrown the Quaffle, which went pelting towards the ground before being caught by Chaser Julie McFadden, who had been flying around, observing.
“I mean, usually Chasers are older, aren’t they? I suppose it varies, like with-”
“Would you mind,” said Cora, wresting her gaze from the Quaffle, which was pelting downwards again, and glaring instead at Drew, “If I told you to be quiet?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good. Be quiet.” Cora turned back to the trial once more.
Drew, startled by the bluntness actually heeded her, more out of shock than wanting to obey. Or perhaps he simply couldn’t think of a way to retaliate.
Laura blew a whistle, and the sixteen broomsticks sank to the ground where their riders dismounted. “Right,” said Laura. “I’ve seen enough.”
“I’m going to ask one member of each group “that’s three of you- to stay. The rest, I’m sorry, but you’re not what we’re looking for.”
The hopefuls drew in their collective breath. It was now or never.
“These are the three who will keep going. You-” she pointed to a seventh-year boy, “You-” a third-year boy, “And you.” She pointed to Olivia.
Those not chosen turned and walked away. Olivia stared fixedly at Laura, shocked that Laura had asked her, Olivia, to continue. “You really want me?”
“Well,” replied Laura, “you’re not on the team yet, but you’ve got potential. Now get back in the air before I change my mind.”
Olivia nearly tripped over Cora’s Cleansweep in her haste to obey.
Twenty minutes later the whistle blew again. Olivia sank to the ground feeling less confident than she had beforehand. She was sure she had done her best, but the seventh-year had been, in her opinion, too much competition.
Up in the stands, Drew had regained his composure and was chattering happily about the last Muggle book he had read and whether Peter’s sword in The Chronicles of Narnia- The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was comparable to that of Godric Gryffindor. Cora was forcibly ignoring him.
Back on the ground, Laura had launched into her “acceptance and rejection” speech. Olivia noticed that it was hardly different from the first one.
“I feel that two of you will make good additions to the team, but we only have one spot. Therefore, the new Chaser is-”
Olivia bit her lip. It was really now or never.
“-Xavier Kendall.”
It was the seventh year. Apparently, he was quite pleased with himself, for he set off on a triumphant loop of the stadium on his Nimbus 2001.
Olivia watched him go with a surprisingly straight face. Anyone speaking to her would have thought she was taking it very well. But none of the people now deluging her with “it’s okay’s” and “maybe next year’s” could possibly know how hard the effort was.
Suddenly, with a loud thunk and even louder CRACK, Xavier Kendall smashed into one of the goal hoops and fell fifty feet to the ground, which he hit with a THUD.
“We lose more Chasers that way…” said Mortimer, a Beater.
“C’mon, it’s hospital wing for him,” said Maurice, the other Beater. They walked towards the limp form of Xavier with their wands out and grim expressions on their faces.
Skylar, the Seeker, looked repulsed. Julie was covering her mouth with both hands, shocked.
Geena said “He won’t be playing for a while,” and everyone believed her. What Geena Weasley said almost always came true.
Laura turned and faced Olivia. The third-year had vanished. “Right then,” Laura said. “Olivia, welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”
A/N: Thanks to the books Quidditch Through the Ages by Kenilworthy Whisp (also known as J.K. Rowling) and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. Also thanks to my awesome beta Lurid, and Fly to Dawn for all the awesome banners. Now go review. Please?
B/N: That was certainly a very well written chapter. I think you should DEFFINETLY include a rant about what a GREAT author she is, right? And give her a BIG clap for her reaching her deadline! Hurray Juli!
Drew's Dilemma by saveginny417
Chapter 7: Drew's Dilemma
Olivia’s happiness at securing the position on the Quidditch team lasted only until Sunday evening. At dinner, Laura Wood sought her out and told her, in a grim whisper, just how grueling the training sessions would be. After this encounter, Olivia fell strangely silent and only picked at her roast beef. Cora, who had hated roast beef since the age of seven, watched her friend for a few moments and then suggested they turn in early.
Olivia gave no reply, which Cora took to mean “Yes, let’s.” She therefore got up, turned around, and crashed straight into Drew MacDounagh, who had obviously been coming to talk to them.
Startled, Cora watched as Drew hit the table where she had been standing only moments before, but unfortunately, he didn’t stop there. He kept sliding until he reached the floor - underneath the table.
A couple of fifth-years sitting nearby took one look at Drew, lying on the floor, and burst into hysterical laughter. Cora stared, dumbstruck, not sure whether to start laughing or to run for help. Only one person came to Drew’s aid - Olivia, who had been startled out of her Quidditch-induced reverie by the thudding noises and the high-pitched laughter.
She leapt up and pulled Drew to his feet. “Are you alright?”
Drew grinned, sheepishly. “I’ve been better.”
Cora thought Drew looked absolutely fine, but Olivia apparently disagreed.
“You sure? You don’t want me to get Madame Pomfrey, or something?”
“No, no, I’m really alright!”
“Er, Olivia? Could I have a word? Now?” Cora sounded incredulous and angry at the same time. “Are you feeling alright?
“Me? I’m fine. Drew’s the one who just hit his head!”
“No, I mean, do you have multiple personalities or something? Yesterday you hated Drew.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” Cora felt no need to mince words.
Olivia pondered for a moment. “Yeah, well, hitting your head like that is really, really painful. I’ve done it before!”
Cora raised an eyebrow, decided it wasn’t enough, and raised the other one. “I don’t want to know. But Drew looks fine!”
“No, he isn’t.” As if to emphasise her point, Olivia grabbed Drew around the shoulders and started shaking him. Hard. “See how melancholy he is?”
Drew managed to choke out “Olivia! I’m fine!” between gasps of air.
“Oh. Sorry.” Olivia released him, and he crumpled in a heap on the bench, thankfully not hitting the ground again.
At this point Professor Spinnet showed up. “Fighting, Potter, Abdiknot, MacDounagh?”
All three shook their heads and added “No, ma’am,” in unison.
“Well, be sure it stays that way!” Professor Spinnet turned back to the staff table.
Cora stared at the Transfiguration teacher’s retreating figure with incredulity etched across her face. “What on earth was that about?” she whispered to Olivia.
Olivia chose to ignore her friend and turned instead to talk to Drew, still breathing heavitly on the bench. “So, Drew,” she said, in a voice loud enough to make the addressee jump, “You were coming to talk to us, weren’t you? We’re surrounded by fifth-years, and I don’t see Will or Josh anywhere.”
Will Celeyran and Josh Dartman were the elite of the first-year set. They were followed everywhere by their roommates and fellow Gryffindors “ Drew, Calvin, and Zander - and were always being compared to this great Quidditch player or that well known Ministry of Magic employee. Olivia knew for a fact that Drew idolised them, so to find him completely out of their sight for a prolonged amount of time was like registering a shift in the Earth’s gravitational pull. It just didn’t happen.
“Oh. Right.” It seemed they had reached the reason Drew had braved fifth-year teasing and cold, dusty floors. It also seemed that he was none to keen on admitting what he’d wanted to say for the past ten minutes. Instead he stared at his feet.
Olivia seemed unperturbed by this. “Well? Say something!”
Drew muttered something incoherent, the only intelligible words being “Quidditch” and “flew”.
“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”
Not looking at her, Drew swallowed and said, in a very fast monotone, “I just wanted to say that I saw you at the Quidditch trials and I think you flew very well.”
Whatever Olivia had been expecting to hear, that wasn’t it. Her face cracked into the first smile since Laura Wood had brought the grim tidings about Quidditch. “Thanks!”
Drew nodded, and promptly fell onto the bench again.
“Oh, sorry! Did I do that?” Olivia rushed to help him up.
“Yeah,” said Drew. Upon seeing the look on Olivia’s face, however, he added, “But don’t worry about it. Happens all the time. Though, come to think of it, it’s usually self-induced.”
Olivia still felt badly about this, so she decided to cheer Drew up. “Cora says you were talking about The Chronicles of Narnia the other day. Have you read them too?”
Drew jumped at the conversation-starter. “Oh, yeah! They’re my favorite Muggle books! Mum thinks I’m mad, but then again, Mum edits The Quibbler, so there you go.”
“ The Quibbler? That must be fascinating!”
“Er, no, it’s actually kind of dull…”
Drew trailed off, not because he didn’t have anything else to say, but because he and Olivia had made their way into the Entrance Hall and could no longer be heard over the footfalls of other students.
Cora, who had been watching the scene unfolding with her eyebrows up higher than she had ever known they could go, stared after them. “This can’t be possible,” she muttered, as though trying to prove something.
But she was wrong. This was even worse than a shift in the Earth’s gravitational pull. It was like discovering life on another planet, or finding out that her entire life was a mere by-product of a brilliant, fourteen-year-old American mind, or that“
She stopped thinking. Her thoughts were confusing her. Instead, she glanced at the staff table, received no reassuring signs, and ran into the Entrance Hall after Olivia and Drew.
A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter, and I had actually anticipated it to be longer, but this was a good place to stop. The good news is that once summer vacation starts updates will be faster. And there isn’t any bad news! Once again, thanks to The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Olivia saying she’s hit her head before refers to the time I concussed myself on my best friend’s bunk bed. Just a fun fact.
Also, I have a question: do you want to see the Quidditch match or not? The action will pick up a lot faster without it, but it’ll probably be the only comic relief you’ll get for a while, so take your pick. Answer that and ask me whatever you want in the very long review you are about to leave! (Hint, hint.) See the convenient little box at the bottom of the page? Make use of it! Please?
Celebrations and Consequences by saveginny417
Chapter 8: Celebrations and Consequences
Though disliked at first, it now seemed that Drew could do no wrong in Olivia’s eyes. She laughed at his jokes, let him follow her around, and asked him questions ranging in topic from his childhood to their Potions homework. Even Cora put up with him, and before long, the three had become inseparable.
However, an onslaught of homework soon brought about a more serious attitude toward most things. Both Transfiguration and Charms assigned practice spells every night, and essays abounded in all other subjects. Only one teacher did not assign homework- Professor Thomas, their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Cora supposed the idea hadn’t even occurred to their teacher- so caught up was he in the past that he completely forgot about the present.
In fact, Defense classes had now become so lackadaisical that many of the first-years had begun treating the class as an extra study hall. Most students spent the period doing homework for other classes, and the ever-courageous Josh Dartman sometimes practiced levitating feathers under the desks. Only Drew ever paid attention, determined as always to be a good student.
October passed in this manner, with days spent slaving over cauldrons and needles, or, alternatively, playing Hangman. Nights were whiled away in front of the Common Room fire: writing essays, looking things up in Olivia’s gigantic book, and asking each other obvious questions.
October 27th dawned bright, brisk, and blustery. “Perfect Quidditch weather,” noted Cora, as she, Drew, and Olivia sat down to breakfast.
“You can say that again,” replied Olivia, glancing out of one of the high windows.
“Perfect Quidditch weather,” repeated Cora, smiling. Olivia rolled her eyes and Drew burst out laughing.
The view out of the high windows was suddenly obstructed by the arrival of the post owls. Several of them landed in front of Cora, who moved the bacon away from the oncoming birds just in time.
Drew raised his eyebrows as the myriad of owls, all bearing cards and letters addressed to Cora Potter . “What’s all this for?”
Olivia joined in. “No one’s- no one’s died, have they?”
Cora dropped an envelope addressed in green at this question. How could Olivia have stumbled, so unassumingly, on the truth? No one had died recently, but someone was dead… But she laughed it off and replied, “Don’t be thick, Liv. It’s my birthday!”
This could not qualify as a lie, either, because it actually was.
That night found Cora alone in her dormitory. She wasn’t sure how she had got there, but she knew why she needed to be alone: because of a letter she had received that morning. A force she couldn’t quite describe had somehow told her not to open it at the breakfast table. Something had made her realise that this letter wasn’t an obscure ‘happy birthday’ or ‘congratulations’, and it wasn’t signed by any of her cousins, either.
So, she had made up some random excuse for Drew and Olivia about going to bed early, made sure that Jennifer, Brianna, and Cassidy were all in the common room, and had stolen away to the dormitory alone.
The envelope was addressed in neat, familiar handwriting. More paper than parchment, if bore no stamp and no return address.
“Open it, Potter!” The voice came from nowhere. Cora whirled around, but she was still alone in the dormitory. Strange.
And then she remembered the voice she had heard on her first night at Hogwarts; the high, cold voice that had yelled her name across the entrance hall. The voices were one and the same.
Afraid to disobey, Cora opened the letter with shaking hands and scanned its contents. Her worst fear realized, she sighed and lay down on her four-poster bed, fully clothed.
“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered, and when Olivia came twenty minutes later, she pretended to be asleep.
Olivia, caught up in her own worries as she got ready for bed, didn’t notice the silent tears coursing down Cora’s face.
The rest of October passed slowly for Cora and Drew, and far too quickly for Olivia- the Quidditch season was approaching. Practices claimed six nights a week, and Cora and Drew became accustomed to spending nighttime study sessions without Olivia.
The first game of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was drawing great enthusiasm from all four houses. Both teams had practiced long and hard, and everyone was exited. The comments in the corridors ranged from nasty- “Hey, Abdiknot, I heard Hogsmeade is having a mass sale on bandages this weekend ”- to nice- “Good luck on Saturday, Olivia!”- and everyone was anticipating the outcome, no matter which team came out on top. Quidditch did that to people.
The day arrived. Excitement pounded through the Great Hall, and no one talked of anything else over their morning cornflakes. Only one person was not enjoying the festivities, and her name was Olivia.
“C’mon, Liv, you’ve got to eat something.”
“I’m fine, Drew.”
“Drew’s right, Olivia. You need your strength.”
“I’m not hungry, guys, okay?”
“No,” put in another voice, “It’s not okay.”
Olivia sighed. “Geena! Don’t you try to force me, too!”
“Why not?” Geena pretended to be hurt.
“Oh, stop it, all of you, stop it!” Olivia was now not only nervous, but mad. In retaliation, she grabbed the nearest plate of bacon, stabbed some, and ate it.
“There,” she said when she had finished. “Happy now?”
“Yes,” said Geena, in complete honesty, and she skipped away.
Drew, who had watched these proceedings with one eyebrow raised, now made an announcement. “Cora, your entire family is completely mental.”
Cora pondered that. “They are, aren’t they?” When Drew nodded a vigorous assent, she shrugged, and went back to her cornflakes.
Having succeeded in eating absolutely nothing else, Olivia followed the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to the changing room half an hour later. Cora and Drew allowed themselves to be swept up in the throng headed towards the Quidditch pitch, and found seats about halfway up. They listened to the usual chatter of a steadily-filling arena, particularly a conversation being held between two fifth-years sitting behind them.
“Look, I don’t see why we always have to go through this! It doesn’t matter if you’re afraid of heights!”
“But, Noah, those broomsticks go so high!”
“Liz, are you the one riding the broomstick?”
“No, but-”
“See! Nothing to worry about!”
Giggling slightly, Cora and Drew turned to around to listen to the commentator, Cyril Whitney, as he began to introduce the match.
“Welcome to the first game of the Quidditch season here at Hogwarts! I’m your commentator, Cyril, and I promise to provide you loyal fans with and honest, unbiased commentary! Remember, it’s not about who wins, but instead-”
“Whitney!” Professor Thomas, who was supervising the commentary, was apparently unimpressed with Cyril’s long-winded introduction. “Get on with the commentary!”
“Right you are, Professor! Today’s match is between Gryffindor-” a roar of assent came from one quarter of the stands, which was a solid block of crimson- “and Ravenclaw!” A second roar, this time from a different quarter, which was clad completely in royal blue.
“First, the Gryffindor team: Wood! Nelson! Blaughton! Weasley! McFadden! Abdiknot! And… Keaton!”
Seven scarlet blurs shot on to the field, followed by several more cheers from the Gryffindor supporters.
“The Ravenclaw team: O’Malley! Johansson! Rourke! Shimery! Larson! Carlsberg! And… Miller!”
Seven blue streaks shot out this time, hovering slightly, bolstered by the shouts of their supporters and the names on the back of their robes.
Another broom rose into the air. This one belonged to the referee, Professor Spinnet.
“And they’re off!” shouted Cyril. “The Quaffle is immediately taken by Larson, that’s Bridget Larson of Ravenclaw- Larson passes to Carlsberg; Oh, nice interception there by McFadden, McFadden of Gryffindor, who passes to Abdiknot- nice play there-”
Olivia streaked up the pitch, surprised by the lack of opposition, when her path was suddenly blocked by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, Rourke.
“Abdiknot reverse-passes to Wood- Laura Wood, that is- Wood shoots, O’Malley tries to block it- Gryffindor scores!”
A shout rang through the Gryffindor end of the stadium. O’Malley threw the Quaffle into the air in frustration. Laura grabbed it and threw it right back at him.
“Gryffindor scores again!”
The match progressed in the same manner. Gryffindor scored again and again, while Ravenclaw managed only one shot, which Geena blocked easily. It was obvious that Gryffindor would win, but still they played on, for the Snitch had not been found.
Eventually the Ravenclaw captain called time-out, and the teams descended. Laura called her team into a huddle.
“Look, we’re up by so much that this hardly matters, but has anyone seen the Snitch?”
When this question was met by silence, Laura threw up her hands in exasperation. “Skylar! What have you been doing up there?”
“Well, there was this bird, see-”
“WHAT?”
“Only joking, Laura. I’ll get on it, really!” he added quickly. Laura Wood could be extremely intimidating.
Twenty minutes later it was over. Skylar had noticed the Snitch near the goal hoops and nearly knocked the Ravenclaw Seeker, Catriona Miller, out of the sky in his attempt to catch it before she did.
Cyril Whitney was shouting himself hoarse. “Gryffindor wins, 300-0! Gryffindor wins, 300-0! Professor Thomas was trying very hard to pull the megaphone out of his hands. No one else paid them the slightest attention.
Gryffindor supporters mobbed the field. Olivia found Cora and Drew, and there was much rejoicing everywhere.
In the common room that evening, there was so much celebrating that the noise level rivaled that of a small bomb being detonated. Someone had stolen mountains of food, and everyone enjoyed themselves thoroughly.
At one point, Geena stood up on a chair, grabbed Cyril Whitney’s megaphone, and shouted into it.
“Hey, everyone! We won!” Everyone cheered.
“But,” continued Geena, “now we have to suffer the consequences.”
“What’s that, Geena?” shouted Skylar.
“Now we have to live with the fact that everyone knows we’ve got the BEST RUDDY TEAM IN THE SCHOOL!”
Everyone cheered some more, even Cora, who hated crowds, and Drew, who didn’t understand Quidditch.
Olivia smiled.
“What’s up, Liv?” asked Cora.
“Nothing, really. Everything just suddenly seemed all right.”
And it was. For the time being.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all my loyal reviewers, who kept me on target and made me assert a deadline, which I succeeded in meeting! They also didn’t abandon me when I took forever to update. So, guys, this one’s for you! Keep it up, and I will too !
Yes, I know, another cliffhanger! Shame on me, right?
Questions and Answers by saveginny417
Author's Notes:
Special thanks to the ever-fabulous Wise Owl, who stepped in to beta this chapter. Without her help, it may have taken me another six months to get up. And, before you all start yelling, I do know that six is more than four. So I apologise again! Thanks to all you readers, for sticking with it for so long. Now, without further ado, I give you...chapter nine! Hooray!
Chapter 9: Questions and Answers
Autumn term passed much faster than the other term had aided in part by the heaps of homework that pressed in on them from all sides. One late December day, during a Transfiguration lesson, Professor Spinnet sent around a sign-up list for those students who would be staying at Hogwarts over the holidays. Most first-years signed the list, except for three: Cora Potter, Olivia Abdiknot, and Andrew MacDounagh.
Olivia was going “home”, to Islington and the mysterious story that awaited her. Drew had been offered and accepted a week-long apprenticeship in the central offices of The Quibbler. Essentially, this entailed sitting at his kitchen table and thinking up clues for the monthly crossword, but he was glad to be going home nonetheless. Cora, on the other hand, was dreading her return home and would have given anything to be staying at school, but according to her mother that wasn’t her choice to make, so she grudgingly packed her trunk and reluctantly bid Hogwarts farewell.
With only a week to go until Christmas the trio boarded the Hogwarts Express, excited - or, in Cora’s case, apprehensive - about the adventures that awaited them at home.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was filled with parents cheerfully welcoming their children and wishing their friends a Happy Christmas. Olivia wandered through the crowd searching”though she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.
“Olivia!” Someone shouted from across the crowded platform.
She turned and spotted the familiar figure of her mother standing next to a tall, wrought iron archway and walked slowly in her direction. Once she had closed the considerable gap between them she realized that it wasn’t her mother standing there, waiting nervously to greet her. Nymphadora Tonks’ hair was shorter than Olivia remembered, and her eyes held less laughter, but there was no mistaking her in close proximity. Olivia approached her, feeling extremely awkward and shook the hand that the other woman had proffered.
Feeling compelled to introduce herself she said, “I’m Olivia.”
“Tonks,” replied the other, “but you can call me whatever you like including liar, fake or any other foul word you can think of.”
“Tonks works for me,” said Olivia, who didn’t want to make things unnecessarily difficult.
There was a pause. Then”
“Look, Tonks, I know you’ve got a story to tell, and I want to hear it, and ask questions and everything, but right now could we please just go home?”
Tonks smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And together, Tonks and Olivia turned around and strode through the archway, back into the Muggle world.
Drew had forgotten how hectic the central offices of The Quibbler could be. Sure, he remembered the Howlers, and the crazed witches who randomly Apparated on their doorstep, and Eliza, the Squib who served as babysitter to the staff’s children and who knew far more than could be healthy about the Eiffel Tower…but he had forgotten all about the inter-departmental messages that were composed entirely of cut-out letters from previous issues, the mock-ups made of alphabet soup, or how his little sister would sometimes wander into his ‘office’, stare at the ceiling for precisely thirty-nine seconds, and wander out again.
No doubt about it, The Quibbler was bizarre. Maybe the reason Drew continued to write the crossword puzzle, month after month, was because”and he was the first to admit it”he was a little weird as well.
He was also completely out of ideas. After working very hard for several hours, Drew’s list of clues read
ACROSS
1. Conspiracy theory involving gum disease
2. Innocent singing sensation
But that was as far as he had gotten. Annoyed, Drew decided to give it up for the time being and went off to convince his sister, Stephanie, to tell him why she kept staring at his ceiling.
Cora hated cars. They were stuffy and impersonal, and so slow. When given the choice between traveling on a Comet Two Eighty or in her mother’s Aston-Martin, Cora took the broomstick every time.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t been given the choice. According to her mother, broomsticks were risky and impractical. They couldn’t travel by Floo Powder either, because their fireplace had been disconnected for privacy reasons, so the Potter family was driving to the Burrow for Christmas.
Cora was bored out of her mind.
“Matt! Turn on the radio!”
“We don’t get the WWN in the car, though!”
“So what? I’m bored!”
“Well, dear,” put in Cora’s mother, who was driving, “you could always tell us about your term. You’ve been home a week and we haven’t gotten a word out of you.”
Cora had nothing better to do, as staring at guardrails was growing increasingly monotonous, so she decided to oblige. Sort of.
“Classes are interesting, I guess.”
“You guess?” Mrs. Potter hadn’t taken her eyes off the road, but Cora could tell from her tone of voice that she had better start talking, or that her mother would do everything in her power to make the rest of the ride far more boring.
Reluctantly, Cora began again. Sure, she hated talking to crowds, but her mother and brother”that she could handle. By the time she had finished voicing her many and varied opinions on how pointless Defense Against the Dark Arts was, how awesome Olivia and Drew were, and how hopelessly arrogant that Josh Dartman acted, they were pulling into the long driveway of the Burrow.
Olivia wanted answers. Sure, she had asked to go home, but she had been there a week already! While she had definitely enjoyed her holiday, she had only returned to Islington to get the facts, something that was not happening at all. Frustrated, Olivia decided to take action, and brought up the topic during dinner on Christmas Eve.
“Tonks? Why are we here?”
“Because I can’t afford rent in London. Pass the potatoes.”
“No, Tonks, that’s not what I mean,” said Olivia, as she handed over the potatoes. “I need to know the whole story, not about rent, but about Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter and my parents, whoever they are, and”oh”this is so awkward, but I need you to tell me. Please.”
Tonks sighed, put down her fork, and looked at Olivia. “All right. Mind you, I can only tell you what I know, which I very much doubt is the whole story, but I’ll try my best.
“A long, long time ago, there was this orphan boy named Tom Riddle. He was brought up in the orphanage he was born in. The Ministry of Magic knew he was magical, but they didn’t do anything about him. Plenty of wizards were Muggleborn, why should Tom be brought up any differently? So Tom turned eleven and got sent off to Hogwarts where, to make a long story short, he turned into Lord Voldemort. D’you follow me so far?”
Olivia nodded. “So that was the first time the Ministry screwed up?”
“Exactly,” agreed Tonks. “When another powerful orphan surfaced, they wanted to make sure nothing horrible happened, seeing as the first one turned out so evil.”
“I can see the logic in that,” said Olivia, “but didn’t Voldemort kind of bring about what happened next?”
“Right again,” replied Tonks. “Voldemort killed Harry Potter’s parents, tried to kill him, and simultaneously vanished. The Ministry didn’t have a clue what to do with Harry, though, so they let Dumbledore”you do know who he is”decide his fate, and Dumbledore decided to leave Harry with his Muggle aunt and uncle.
“Now, it turns out that there was a lot more involved in that decision than most people thought, and it really was the best possible scenario. But the Ministry is never eager to repeat its mistakes, and, what with the war between Harry and Voldemort, they decided that the next orphan should be given as much magical influence as possible, but still lead the life of a Muggleborn.”
“Me?” asked Olivia.
“You,” confirmed Tonks. “They decided to leave you with a magical guardian”preferably a talented witch who could be easily disguised. I happened to fit that description.”
“So the Ministry assigned you to…me,” concluded Olivia, finally understanding everything.
Well, almost everything. One fact was still bothering Olivia, so she brought it up when they had retired to the sitting room to listen to the WWN Christmas broadcast.
“Tonks? How come the Ministry picked you?”
Tonks sighed, reached over, and turned off the radio before answering. “Because I had nothing better to do.”
This put Olivia back to square one in the comprehension department. “But”you were an Auror! Surely they could have found””
Tonks cut her off. “Oh, there were plenty of jobs! This was right after the war, there was loads to be done!”
“They why””
“Because no one wanted me to work for them. My…er…fiancée was killed during the war, if you must know. We were both huge advocates for the Order of the Phoenix, and I guess Remus just got too close to the front line.
“I was never the same after that. Kind of fell apart, emotionally, and the Ministry didn’t think I was fit to work. So, when you were discovered, they seemed to think I was perfect for the job. Put me on extended leave and send me a check for my services every month, but that’s about it.”
Comprehension was finally dawning on Olivia, and she didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, Tonks,” she breathed, “I’m so sorry.”
Tonks shrugged. “It was a long time ago. D’you want some hot chocolate before bed?”
Olivia nodded, and followed Tonks back into the kitchen, enjoying the scuffing sounds her slippers made on the warn linoleum floor.
“Hey, Tonks?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I call you ‘Mum’ again?”
Tonks looked up, surprised. “If you want to, certainly…”
Olivia grinned. “Happy Christmas, Mum!”
The Grief Quotient by saveginny417
Author's Notes:
This chapter was planned a long time before DH, so any parallels it draws or facts it ignores are entirely coincidental. Also, though it goes without saying, this is JKR's playground. I'm just digging in the sandbox.
On another note, this chapter is dedicated to my friends Dan and Gus, who died 29 August and 16 September respectively. Rest in peace, guys.
Chapter 10- The Grief Quotient
Cora’s grandmother had always insisted that Christmas was a time for family. Since none of her children was fool enough to argue with her and nearly all of her grandchildren were still too young to legally make their own decisions, the entire clan descended on the Burrow once a year. All told, there were about twenty-five of them, which made living quarters extremely cramped. So, when the seven-year-old twins Charlotte and Caroline were unable to contain their glee at five o’clock on Christmas morning, the rest of the family was consequently forced awake as well.
The adults gathered in the living room, all nursing cups of coffee and not speaking much. The youngest kids were all absorbed in present-opening, completely oblivious to the dismal lack of holiday cheer. The eldest cousins, however “ the ones who had started at Hogwarts already or were extremely close to their first year” barricaded themselves in the room Cora and Geena were sharing and refused to leave for a long while. There were seven of them all together, ranging from Callum, who at nineteen had already finished his schooling, to Matt and Ethan who hadn’t even begun. After about an hour, Cora suddenly realised why they were all sitting in a circle on the bedroom floor, not speaking. They were the ones who were old enough to remember, but too young to forget.
At about eight in the morning, the smells of breakfast began to permeate the air, and most of the cousins wandered off in search of food. Cora, however, locked the door behind them and sat on the edge of her bed with such force that several of her still unopened Christmas presents slid onto the floor. This didn’t bother Cora in the slightest, and she returned to her thoughts. Unfortunately, her thoughts were soon interrupted rather unpleasantly.
“Happy Christmas, Potter.”
Cora leapt off the bed, drawing her wand as she did so. “Who’s there?” she shouted at the voice, the same sinister, lurking voice she had heard on her birthday.
There was no answer.
“Show yourself!” Cora shouted, spinning around and brandishing her wand at random corners of the room.
There was still no answer.
“Fine!” yelled Cora, who had now entirely surpassed fear and become angry. “Leave! See if I care! I’m sure you’ll come back the next time I’m thoroughly miserable! You twisted, evil… thing! I don’t even know if you’re just a figment of my imagination or whatever but please just”leave me alone!”
Exhausted from her tirade, Cora fell back down on her bed, sobbing and dislodging the rest of her presents. Someone began knocking on the door, but Cora ignored them.
The knocking continued uninterrupted. “Cora? Cora! Open up!” Whoever it was rattle the doorknob, uttered a mild oath, and then murmured “ Alohomora. The door swung open, and the figure of Geena was framed in the doorway.
“Who are you shouting at?” Geena asked. Her voice was causal, but the look on her face was definitely not one of holiday cheer.
“Nobody,” replied Cora, as she threw a pillow at Geena and used the distraction to wipe her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Geena wasn’t put off by the sudden flying bedroom décor, however, and continued her interrogation.
“Oh, come on, Cora,” she said. “I could hear you shouting all the way down in the kitchen.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean I was shouting at anyone in particular,” retorted Cora, who had spotted the paltriest of loopholes in the question and used it as best she could. Oh, where was Drew when she needed him? If anyone was good at getting out of an awkward conversation, he was! But Drew was off in Essex somewhere, writing crosswords about wrackspurts and conspiracy theories and Merlin who-knew-what else.
Geena still wasn’t through, apparently. “Look, Cora, today’s hard on all of us, but that doesn’t’ “”
“That doesn’t mean I can randomly start shouting, huh?” Cora was getting mad again, but at least she was yelling at Geena instead of that weird ” whatever that voice thing was. “I’ll shout however the hell I want! This isn’t a happy Christmas anyway, so who cares if I shout? No one, Geena, that’s who! We’re all miserable anyway, so who cares about a bit of shouting to lighten the monotony?” Cora threw another pillow at Geena who caught it, being Geena, and walked away.
Unfortunately, Geena, still being Geena, arrived back in the room twenty minutes later with Olivia in tow. How Geena had somehow located Olivia was beyond Cora, but she didn’t worry about it too much. She was content to just lie on the floor forever and never speak to anyone again.
“Olivia, make her see reason,” commanded Geena. “I’m sick of listening to her shout.”
Cora would have thrown another pillow at Geena at this remark, but she couldn’t reach one and lie on the floor in complete apathy simultaneously. Geena winked wickedly at Cora and left the room.
“I’ll bet you anything she’s eavesdropping,” said Cora, who had randomly decided to forsake her vow of silence at the sight of her best friend. Olivia nodded, pulled out her wand, and pointed it at the door.
“ Muffliato,” she murmured, and sat back down on the floor. “Now anyone who tries to listen in will just hear a faint buzzing noise. Handy, no?” Without waiting for Cora to answer, Olivia pressed on.
“So, Cora. Pray tell why I was awakened this morning by none other than Geena Weasley, who burst out of my fireplace and demanded that I come and make you stop shouting.”
“Erm… because I was shouting?”
“Pray tell why you were shouting, then.”
“Because I wasn’t having a Happy Christmas.”
Olivia sighed. “Don’t make me force it out of you, Cora Potter. I’m not your mother and I don’t really want to start acting like I am. You’ve got a perfectly good real mother, at any rate, which is more than I can claim right now, so stop trying to make me feel sorry for you.”
At these words, Cora jumped up. Of course! The only person who could comprehend her feelings right now wasn’t Olivia. It was her mother, because they were probably feeling exactly the same way.
“Sorry, Liv,” said Cora, as she raced out of the room. “I have to go and talk to my mother!”
“Well,” mused Olivia, who was not quite sure what had just happened, or how she had even got there in the first place, “at least she’s stopped shouting.”
Drew stared forlornly at his crossword. After a week of intense work, he was literally still in square one. He decided to give it up as a bad job. None of the readers of The Quibbler actually did the crossword anyway. Most of the subscribers seemed to like discovering upside-down hexes instead. Perhaps he could persuade his mother to print one of those Japanese number puzzles, like the ones the Ravenclaws liked so much. Psuedo-coos, he thought they were called. Something like that, anyway.
The Burrow stairs were rough and cold. Why was that? Cora looked down, and realised she had left her slippers at home in London. Oh well, she was in mortal agony anyway. What difference did a splinter or two make?
The stairs ended abruptly, so Cora stopped walking and wondered why. Oh. She had reached the bottom of the staircase. She turned and hesitantly meandered her way into the parlor, where she knew she would find her mother, shrouded in half-darkness despite the cheery snow drifting slowly to the ground outside the window.
Cora had been right. Ginny Potter was indeed huddled on the sofa, wrapped in a patchwork quilt and staring into the fire. She looked old, and broken somehow, like a quill someone had accidentally stepped on.
Cora sat down next to her mother, who looked around at her, and suddenly they were both crying.
“Oh, Cora,” her mother whispered, in between sobs. “I miss them so much!” And Cora suddenly remembered everything she had been striving so hard to forget.
It was Christmas Day. The Potter family had spent several hours unwrapping presents and having a vicious snowball fight, and now all five of them sat around the fire. Seven-year-old Cora perched cross-legged on an armchair, unraveling a stray thread from her new jumper. Five-year-old Matt crawled around on the carpet, playing with his new miniature broomstick, while their two-year-old sister Ashley was being taught a patty-cake game by their mother. Harry Potter looked on, confusing Matt by making the broomstick hover a few inches off the ground with his wand and laughing when Ashley mistakenly whacked Ginny in the nose.
A shining silver mist suddenly materialised in their midst, which solidified into the shape of a parrot. Ashley giggled at the strange phenomenon, but the rest of the family automatically stopped making noise and listened to what the parrot had to say.
“Urgent call. Death Eater riot in the West End. Come at once. Happy Christmas.” The parrot’s voice belonged to Ophelia McHendrick, one of the interns in the Auror office. The Patronus dissolved into mist again and vanished.
The Christmas cheer evaporated on the spot. The toy broomstick thudded to the ground, but no one paid it the slightest attention. Ginny broke the silence.
“You’re not going.”
Harry sighed. “I have to, Gin. I’m the head of the office and they need me.”
“It’s Christmas, Harry! You’re not going!”
“They’re only Death Eaters, Ginny. I’ve gotten rid of plenty of them before.”
Ginny spluttered for a moment, but seemed unable to come up with another argument. Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be back by morning, love. I promise.” He smiled at his children. “C’mon, guys! Walk me out to the Boundary.”
The Boundary was the invisible line where the Fidelius Charm on the house stopped working. Cora and Matt wordlessly stood and followed their father, but Ashley didn’t seem to know what was going on.
“Where are you going, Daddy?” she asked. Harry picked her up and swung her around. Ashley squealed with laughter, her raven curls glinting red in the firelight.
“Daddy’s going to fight the bad guys, sweetie,” he said, as he opened the front door and strode out to the Boundary. Cora, Matt, and Ginny followed.
The Potters assembled on the Boundary, the crossed it as one as they always did. Instantly, they were surrounded by figures in cloaks and masks, which dropped from the sky and pointed their wands directly at Harry, who was still holding Ashley. Ginny shrieked and pushed Matt and Cora back across the Boundary, where they could still see everything but where the new arrivals couldn’t touch them. Common sense made Cora grab Matt and keep him from crossing back to his parent’s aide, even though she longed to do the same.
Harry remained considerably calm, considering there were a dozen-odd wands pointing directly at both him and his two-year-old daughter. “Ginny,” he muttered, out of the corner of his mouth, “it’s a trap. Get back over the Boundary.”
“Don’t move!” shouted one of the figures, which were obviously Death Eaters. “Cover all of them,” it said, and a few of the wands shifted off Harry and Ashley and onto Ginny.
“What do you want?” Harry addressed his attackers at large, still exuding calmness but somehow channelling hatred into every syllable.
“That’s obvious, though, isn’t it, Potter?” spoke up another of the Death Eaters. “We want you. Dead.”
Harry laughed. “You people have been trying to do me in for thirty years. Why should tonight be any different?”
“Because tonight we’ve got a foolproof plan, Potter,” said the first Death Eater, the one who had shouted at Ginny. “It’s a formula. It tears families apart, ends lives in more ways than one. We like to call it the Grief Quotient. It always works.
“Now!”
Multicolored jets of light flew from the ends of the Death Eaters’ wands, bouncing in every direction. An orange jet streaked over Ginny’s head so fast it whistled as it went by. A lilac jet ricocheted off the Boundary and into the night. And a green one hit two-year-old Ashley square in the chest.
Ginny screamed, Harry gasped, and Ashley went limp in her father’s arms. The Death Eater strode forward unmasking to reveal long, dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes.
“You see, Potter?” said Bellatrix Lestrange. “The Grief Quotient always works.”
“But you’re…you’re supposed to be dead!” spluttered Harry, still not relinquishing his hold on what had so recently been his two-year-old daughter.
“Well, I’m not, Potter. But your daughter is. And so are you.”
The multicolored jets of light rent the night apart again, and as the Death Eaters Disapparated, another jet of green light hit its mark.
A lingering echo of maniacal laughter was heard as Harry Potter slumped to the ground. Ginny, Cora, and Matt all rushed to him, but it was too late. Harry and Ashley were both already gone.
“Mum, don’t… don’t cry.” Cora emerged from her memory, vaguely aware that her mother was sobbing into her shoulder. She couldn’t help but feel that being sad was playing straight into the Death Eaters’ hands, even if the massacre had happened so long ago. They had named their torture method The Grief Quotient, after all.
Mrs Potter’s sobbing did not relent however, so Cora reached over to a side table in the hopes of finding her a tissue. As she did so, movement in a silver-framed photograph caught her eye. It showed three people huddled in front of a large tombstone, and Cora realised with a jolt that it was a picture of her father’s and her sister’s funeral.
Her mouth suddenly dry, Cora grabbed the picture to examine it more closely. It was black and white, and Cora’s grandmother had obviously ripped it out of an old Daily Prophet, because the edges were frayed, but if she stared at it hard enough Cora could read the epitaph.
Here Lies
Harry James Potter
31 July 1980- 25 December 2011
And His Daughter
Ashley Faith Potter
16 May 2009- 25 December 2011
Death Is But The Next Greatest Adventure.
“Mum, look at this!” exclaimed Cora, twisting around and shoving the photograph into her mother’s stunned hands. “Look at the last line.”
Mrs Potter looked, and her eyes widened in surprise. Then she set the photograph down and looked at Cora.
“You’re right. This picture’s right. Dumbledore was right, all those years ago. It’s no use being sad, that won’t bring them back. Either of them.”
Cora marveled at the sudden honesty, but she hugged her mother tightly, and in that instant, they both knew that everything could be all right again. They’d spent five years wallowing in grief and refusing to let old wounds heal, five years of sobbing into pillows at night when no one else could hear, five years of forced cheeriness and false laughter. It was over now, and the Potters would go on: incomplete, but whole nonetheless.
Drew had entirely run out of things to do, having spent nearly two weeks at home and also having thoroughly packed for his return to Hogwarts the next day. Utterly bored, he contented himself with counting all the plaster bumps on his ceiling.
It was immensely dull and pointless work, so he was rather glad when he received a memo summoning him to the editor-in-chief’s office. He set off at once, vaguely noticing that his mother had signed the note “Love and Hugs, Luna,” instead of the standard “Mum,” or “Luna Lovegood MacDounagh, Editor-In-Chief,” depending on her mood.
Drew found his mother in the kitchen, where she was evidently conducting some sort of experiment involving a watering can, some candle wax, and a rather large and menacing pair of tweezers. It took her several minutes to notice her son, but when she did she abandoned the experiment at once.
“Andrew!” she cried, pulling her wand from behind her left ear and vanishing most of the wax and the watering can. “How was your term?”
“It was fine, Mum. Shouldn’t you have asked about two weeks ago, though?”
Luna looked puzzled. “Have you been home that long?” Drew nodded, and Luna puzzled some more. “Amazing how time flies, isn’t it? Like a Heliopath on a wild rampage.”
Drew blinked. He had somewhat forgotten how odd his mother could get.
“Well,” Luna continued,” Have you got any friends? I’m surprised you didn’t invite them home for Christmas!”
“Yeah, I would’ve done, Mum, except Cora had to go to her grandmother’s and Olivia had to go deal with her parents, or lack thereof, so I didn’t want to make them feel bad by extending an invitation they couldn’t accept.”
Luna raised an eyebrow at Drew. “Cora? Olivia? Girls, Andrew?”
“Erm. Yeah?”
“How intriguing! So tell me about this Olivia’s parents, or lack thereof, as you so strangely put it.”
“Well, she just found out she’d adopted, see, and her mother doesn’t really know anything about who her real parents are, so Liv went home to get everything sorted out,” explained Drew happily. He liked talking about his friends. Especially the ones who actually existed.
“Fascinating, Andrew! Now what did you say this Olivia’s surname was? This would make an excellent short story feature, you know. Perhaps we could interview her!”
“I didn’t say, Mum, but it’s Abdiknot. Olivia Abdiknot.”
Luna gasped and dropped the massive tweezers, which she had been fiddling with. “Olivia Abdiknot? Who doesn’t know who her parents are?”
“Yeah, Mum,” said Drew. “Why?”
“Well,” said Luna, “I know.”
“You know who Olivia’s parents are?” asked Drew, shocked and surprised.
“I know who Olivia’s parents are,” repeated Luna.
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