Harry was struck dumb for an instant. Everything seemed to freeze in place-- the house became strangely quiet, and it seemed to him that even time stopped. Only the noises created by the children in the backyard indicated that the world wasn’t completely still. He could hear voices floating in from the open window:

“Hard to believe the summer holiday’s nearly over, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but actually, I don’t mind it that much--going back to school, I mean.”

“What? The Honourable Harriet-Lily Potter doesn’t mind going back to school? It’s a sign of the apocalypse!”

“She’s right, though. I’m actually looking forward to going back…well, except for Potions with Zabini. This is going to be the best year ever.”

“Agreed.”

In the next room, one of the eight-month-old twins began to cry, and the sound caused Harry to snap back to reality. He looked back down again at the crumpled paper in his hand, the paper that had caused his shock.

Slowly, he turned toward Ron and Hermione Weasley, who stood behind him wearing grim expressions identical to his own.“How are we going to tell the kids?” he breathed.

* * * * *

Number Seven, Griffin Circle of Godric’s Hollow was a remarkable house-- a mansion, really, judging by its size and grandeur. Slightly cluttered and scattered with photographs, haphazardly placed schoolbooks and athletic equipment, it gave off an aura of warmth and hominess. It had been Harry Potter’s home for the first year of his life until it was reduced to ashes along with his parents. But at the age of 23, his friends had rebuilt the place for him as a birthday surprise, and he’d now been living there with his family for the last fifteen years. An added bonus was that Ron and Hermione Weasley, his best friends, lived next door.

Although the house was very large, it nearly always seemed crowded. Very rarely was there a time when only Harry’s immediate family (he, his wife Ginny, and their two sets of twins at fourteen years and eight months old respectively) was there.

The Weasleys from next door were usually around, accompanied by their daughter Emma; as were the Lupins from down the street, with their son Ted. (The Lupins’ two older children, John and Christina, no longer spent much time at Number Seven, as they had graduated from Hogwarts and had lives of their own.) And then there was Ivy, who practically lived with the Potters during the summer months… Ivy Malfoy.

Today, Haley and Jordan Potter, Emma, Ted, and Ivy, friends as close as five peas in a pod, were sprawled in the backyard of Number Seven. They weren’t doing much, simply discussing various things and eating various sweets, enjoying their last few lazy summer days.

“There’s a cloud over there that look like an octopus strangling a walrus,” Ted commented, pointing overhead.

His voice cracked on the word ‘walrus,’ as it was wont to do of late. Like his voice, Ted himself had begun changing rather awkwardly in the last few months. Somewhat resembling a younger and healthier version of his father with his shaggy light-brown hair and wide blue eyes, he had shot up like a sunflower plant. In terms of personality, he was the same as ever: kind, mellow and easygoing, and possessing a light sense of humour. It was impossible to dislike Ted Lupin; he was simply that kind of a person.

Ivy coiled her long, white-blonde braid absentmindedly around her finger. “What shall we do now?” she asked, and the others chorused, “Nothing!”

Ivy bore all the physical signs of being a Malfoy with her pale complexion, angular and pointed features, and narrow slate-grey eyes. But unlike her sixth-year brother, Ophidias, she was not at all interested in the Dark Arts. She was a rather shy, studious girl who nevertheless had a bit of a mischievous streak, and a weakness for worrying too much about other people. Needless to say, she didn’t fit in too well with her family, and spent a good deal of time at Number Seven. Mr. Potter often said that he understood how she felt, and let her stay as often as she wanted.

Nobody asked Ivy to detail exactly what her life was like at the Malfoys’ house, which was probably for the best, as she most likely never would anyway. She may have been shy, but she was stubborn, too.

Suddenly, music filled the air. A high, clear voice was singing, “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy, warty Hogwarts, teach us something pur-leez!” at the top of its lungs. Everyone turned to look at Haley (short for Harriet-Lily, but call her that and risk revenge) Potter, who grinned and continued singing.

Haley always seemed younger than she was-- it might have been because she was so hyperactive, simply bursting with energy. She loved to sing in public places, she enjoyed sugar, and was every inch the girly girl. She could also be a little bit too cheerful at times and adored getting on her twin brother’s nerves. But perhaps the misconception that she was younger than fourteen was caused by her appearance-- after all, she was smaller and skinnier than most people her age, with shiny black hair that fell to her shoulders and flipped up at the ends. She also had her father’s bright green eyes, but her features and freckles were pure Weasley.

“Haley, kindly do us all a favor and shut up before we all have to take a blood-replenishing draught for our burst eardrums,” instructed a low, flat voice. It was Jordan Potter, Haley’s twin brother (or ‘baby brother’ as she liked to call him, though she was only older by two minutes and sixteen seconds), speaking as he usually did.

Jordan rather resembled a male version of Haley, with his father’s untidy mop of hair. He mended his hereditary Potter male myopia with contact lenses rather than with glasses, and often groused about the fact that no known spell or potion could cure eyesight. He could be very moody at times, and his prodigious intelligence and anal-retentive mind regularly made him appear an insufferable know-it-all. But he was the top wizard in his year, and the best Gryffindor Seeker since his father, even if Quidditch only ranked third on Jordan’s list of hobbies. (First was schoolwork, and second was attempting to pretend that he was not, in fact, related to Haley or his father.)

Emma rolled over onto her stomach. “Toss me a chocolate frog, will you?” she requested lazily, and Haley obliged.

Unlike her best friend, Emma looked older than fourteen. She was tall and was widely considered quite beautiful, especially by a certain Tyrone Thomas. Her hair fell down her back in thick waves of reddish brown, and she had dark eyes and lovely teeth, which were more often than not displayed in a wicked grin. But if anything, her pretty face was misleading. Possessing quick wits and a quick temper (Indeed, Emma was well-known for being as high-strung than the average tightrope), she was skilled at her position as a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was a formidable opponent when it came to dueling.

She and Haley, assisted by their considerably more restrained companion Ivy, were the mistresses of mischief and mayhem at Hogwarts, a job she rather enjoyed. She was very serious about rarely being serious, and made it her business to try and recreate the Marauders’ golden age of mischief. (As Haley had inherited her father’s invisibility cloak and the Marauders’ Map, this was very possible.)

Emma unwrapped the chocolate frog and checked the trading card. “Blimey, I keep getting your dad, Haley,” she laughed, and lay the card down next to her. It read:

“Harry Potter.
Known as ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ ‘The Chosen One,’ and occasionally ‘The One Who Triumphed,’ he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort twice, once at the age of one and again at the age of 17, and fought him several times. Today, he and his wife Ginny live in Godric’s Hollow with their four children. Mr. Potter, age 38, is the Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic and the head of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as the recipient of an Order of Merlin, First Class. He was assisted in his second and final defeat of Voldemort by seven friends, known as the legendary ’Potter’s Eight,’ or simply, ‘The Eight.’”

The drowsy summer reverie was broken by Emma’s mother’s voice, calling from the back window of the Potters’ house. “Emma! Haley, Jordan, Ted… and Ivy, too! Come inside! We have to show you something.” Her tone was not light and casual-- it sounded anxious, urgent, even scared. Emma had never heard her mother sound that way before, and although she liked to think of herself as largely fearless, it frightened her.

* * * * *

The headline of the newspaper screamed, “DRACO MALFOY ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN!” After dropping the paper in shock, one could read the rest of the article:

“DRACO MALFOY ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN!

Draco Malfoy, the ex-Death Eater best known for causing the deaths of hundreds when he reduced St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to rubble ten years ago, has escaped from prison. He is armed and dangerous, having somehow procured his old wand, and the Ministry advises that children only be allowed outside when absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately, it already seems as though Malfoy will be the new Lord Voldemort of the 21st century. Rumoured to be calling himself the “Dark Master”, it is said that he has already found a number of followers through correspondence while imprisoned. The dementors of Azkaban also seem to have joined Malfoy’s ranks, though his wife, Pansy Malfoy, and two friends named Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were arrested today for assisting in Malfoy’s escape. The Ministry is keeping details of the breakout confidential.

‘Malfoy is a very skilled dark wizard, and most likely unhinged,’ warned Minister of Magic Percival Weasley. “We are doing our best to keep the wizarding world safe and hope to apprehend him quickly.’

The Prophet will be publishing updates every day, and anyone who believes they have any leads are urged to owl the Ministry at once.”

The five children stood in silence just as Harry had. Ivy’s father-- whom she hadn’t seen since the age of four-- was on the loose. Her mother was in prison. Their lives were in danger. Nothing would be the same. And the most terrifying part was the array of grave and frightened expressions on the adults’ faces.

Ivy, who was usually rather reserved, burst into tears and hugged Ginny as she sobbed into her shoulder. Mrs. Potter stroked the girl’s blonde hair and held her like a little girl, whispering, “It’s all right, it’s all right.”

“But it isn’t all right,” Jordan blurted, his face unnaturally pale. “And it isn’t going to be!” He sounded as though trying his very best to keep himself from running around yelling and throwing very expensive and breakable objects.

“Everything’s changed,” Emma said bitterly, fighting back tears herself. “Everything’s changed, just like that.”

* * * * *

It was two in the morning, but Harry couldn’t sleep. Malfoy’s escape from Azkaban had shaken him more than he dared let on in front of the kids. It wasn’t himself about whom he was worried-- with Ivy growing up to be a Gryffindor and befriending Potters and the Weasleys, Malfoy would obviously go after her first.

Plus, he, Harry, had always been Malfoy’s nemesis as a boy, and Malfoy was smart; he knew that Harry would suffer more from watching those he loved undergo torture than he would from being tortured himself. Then there was Ron, too-- he had killed Lucius Malfoy in self-defence ten years before, and Draco had wanted revenge ever since.

In fact, Ron had broken his collarbone in an accident in the Auror office and had to go to St. Mungo’s one a month after killing Lucius-- that was why Draco had blown it up, he was going after Ron. But luckily (for Ron, not Draco), Ron had left the hospital less than twenty minutes before the attack and he survived, though he’d always felt a bit guilty about it ever since. Harry could see it on his friend’s face every time someone mentioned all of the deaths that had occurred that night.

Harry rolled over onto his side. He couldn’t see how Ginny could possibly be sleeping, and yet she was. Couldn’t she see that this would be like the days of Voldemort all over again?

He had called a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix earlier that day (he had become the head, which was quite a daunting responsibility) for the first time in over twenty years, and a surprising number of new members had shown up. Many of them, like Romilda Vane, seemed to have come just to get a glimpse of the so-called ‘Potter’s Eight,’-- Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron and Hermione Weasley, Remus and Nymphadora Tonks, and Neville and Luna Longbottom.

At the meeting, Remus had announced that although Fenrir Greyback had died several years back, Malfoy was likely to try and recruit more werewolves to join his ranks. As a result of this, he, Remus, was going to go back to live in a werewolfe settlement as he had twenty-two years before, which left the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching post open for the first time since Voldemort’s defeat.

And Harry had offered to take it. He didn’t know what had come over him-- as Head Auror, Malfoy’s escape meant that he’d have plenty of work to do at the Ministry. But a part of him knew that the students of Hogwarts were in danger, and that a bit of extra Auror protection would be useful. In a week, he’d be at Hogwarts, Professor Potter. The title sounded strange to him, even more so than ‘The Chosen One.’

For possibly the millionth time that day, he thought about Malfoy. He must have been wrong about him-- wrong to think that he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, that he’d been pushed into joining the Death Eaters because it was the only future he knew of with his sheltered and brainwashed upbringing. Even at Hogwarts, when Malfoy had been only second to Voldemort (and occasionally third to Snape) as Harry’s least-favourite person in the universe, Harry would have laughed if someone had informed him that Malfoy would grow up to be a Dark Lord who struck fear into the hearts of hundreds.

And he thought, for possibly the thousandth time that day, that maybe none of this would have happened if Ron hadn’t killed Lucius Malfoy, that it was Ron who gave Malfoy the nerve to truly go to the Dark Side. Surely the murder of his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Hagrid had caused Harry to seek revenge against Voldemort, gave him the strength to fight him. It was an uncomfortable thought, and he tried to push it out of his mind.

He focused instead on Ivy. He saw Malfoy’s young face every time he looked at her, and yet she was so unlike her father. What would “The Dark Master” do to this sweet, shy teenage girl? Would he try to kill her for betraying the family name? Or even worse, would he force her to join the Dark Side? In any case, she wasn’t safe. And she had no parents now, as her mother, Pansy, was in prison, and Draco was hardly a fit parent. Now Ivy couldn’t keep revisiting her home for the first few days of every summer holiday. (She did this in order to keep up with current dark affairs, in case anything was going on in the way of evil schemes of which Harry and the other Aurors should be informed, though her mother and brother didn’t know about that.) Her brother, Ophidias, would be of age in October and could get himself his own house, but Ivy was only fourteen and had no home.

Then Harry knew what he would do. He and Ginny would adopt Ivy, be the parents to her that they had acted like for the last three years. And after all, he reflected, he’d always wanted a big family after spending so much time with the Weasleys. Five children sounded like a good number. He only wondered what Ivy would think of all of this.

On September first, Haley, Emma, Ivy, Jordan, and Ted were not-so-patiently waiting at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. They were accompanied by Emma’s father, Ron, a very tall, lean man who wore his bright red hair in a short, slicked ponytail. He was to be the Acting Head Auror in Harry’s absence at Hogwarts that year, though Harry was still in charge of the department. Fight dark wizards and command Aurors Ron might have done, but he was terribly inept at keeping five teenagers in order.

“Uncle Ron, please make Haley stop bothering me!” Jordan demanded through clenched teeth, as Haley and Emma dissolved into giggles.

“Uh… what’s she doing to you?” asked Ron, studying a Magic Eye postcard that he’d picked up at Kings’ Cross.

“She’s poking me and saying ‘bother’ incessantly!” Jordan explained as Haley poked him and said ‘bother’ incessantly.

“Haley, don’t bother your brother,” Ron instructed automatically, still not tearing his eyes away from the Magic Eye. “Arrgh, this stupid thing! How do you get it to work?” he muttered in frustration.

“Uncle Ron, can I eat sugar quills on the train?” Haley wanted to know.

“What? Oh, sure…” Ron was now waving his wand at the Magic Eye and saying, “Specialis Revelio!” At his answer of “Oh, sure,” Haley crowed triumphantly, Emma grinned, Jordan began protesting unintelligibly, and Ted looked somewhat amused. He decided not to mention to Ron that Haley was forbidden to eat sugar quills, as they made her even more hyperactive than usual.

Ted cast a look over at Ivy, who had been very quiet. She looked drawn and pinch-faced, her eyes downcast and her hands knotted together; Ted knew that her father’s escape from Azkaban was affecting her deeply.

“Ivy,” he said quietly, “do you, er, want me to get you anything?” He and Ivy had always had a certain understanding between the two of them, something like friendship, affection, and sixth sense rolled into one, and they had always gotten along very well. Ted tended to know when something was wrong with Ivy, often before she did.

Ivy merely shook her head, but she looked up at Ted, and he could see the dark circles under her eyes.

“Well, you don’t look well,” he told her, his voice cracking like that of an ill donkey. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

Meanwhile, Jordan was saying to Ron, “Honestly, you just hold the card close to your face, unfocus your eyes, and push it slowly away from your face. See, the picture is a lion chasing a zebra!”

Emma appeared to be trying to convince a first year who asked when the train would arrive that he was waiting at the wrong platform, and that he was trying to board the train to St. Igglesworth’s Institute for Seriously Disturbed Young Men and Women.

“I don’t see a lion chasing a zebra!” Ron said loudly. “Well, this thing is rubbish, I’m chucking it away.”

“Don’t be a litterbug!” Haley exclaimed, sounding genuinely upset.

But Ivy wasn’t listening to them�”her ears and eyes focused on something else. A passing Ravenclaw fifth year was saying casually to her friend, “And with that mad killer on the loose, security’s a million times tighter, so it’ll be hard sneaking out to see Grant at night.”

“You’re worried about not getting to see Grant when we could all get murdered in our beds, Jolie?” her friend replied in an anxious, squeaky voice. (Ivy recognized her as a girl named Antonia.) “Now, Malfoy has kids, doesn’t he? That Slytherin prefect and the blonde girl who hangs around with the Potters? I’d be a bit keen to keep away from them at school, you know, in case they’re in league with--”

“SHUT UP RIGHT NOW OR I’LL JINX YOU!” roared Emma, breaking off from her discourse about St. Igglesworth. She had pulled out her wand and was pointing it at the terrified-looking Antonia, her dark brown eyes hard and blazing.

“Um, Emma, you know what your mother would say if…” Ron trailed off feebly, drowned out by his daughter, who had begun yelling threats at the increasingly anxious Antonia. Years of experience had taught him that it was best not to get between Emma and the target of her anger when she went into caps lock.

“…and if you go bothering my friends again, you’ll wish Malfoy had already done you in to put you out of your misery!” she finished several minutes later, then let the two fifth years go.

“Impressive,” said Ted when the storm had died down. “Those were some of the most creative threats I’ve ever heard. They even top that thing last year with Professor Zabini and the potato.”

Emma twirled a strand of her hair, yanking on it as though it had done something horrible to her. “It’s that girl, Antonia,” she told him in a low voice. “How could she possibly think that Ivy’s a… a dark magician? That’s like saying that Uncle Harry’s a dark wizard-- or Haley!”

With impeccable timing, the girl to whom she had just referred gently rescued a ladybug from the train tracks to keep it from getting squished when the train arrived-- definitely not your typical Death Eater material.

“I remember Antonia from last year,” Emma continued. “She’s that girl who was going out with Tyrone Thomas, and--”

“Ah, Weasley, I see you’re missing me after our summer apart. Just can’t keep your mind off me, can you?” came a silky voice from behind her. She groaned; she didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Tyrone Thomas, a boy in her year with whom she frequently disagreed. The disagreements were usually on such topics as ‘whether or not Tyrone is God’s gift to Hogwarts,’ or ‘whether or not Emma will go out with Tyrone.’

Tyrone had dated a large percentage of the Hogwarts girls, and most of the remainder was clamoring to be added to this demographic, with the exception of Emma. Emma was positive that the only reason why Tyrone had begun to pursue her the previous year was because he didn’t like the idea of a girl not going absolutely mad for him, and she was certain that if she agreed to one date, the boy would lose interest in her, like a little boy getting rid of a toy that had lost its appeal.

Tyrone was both an excellent Quidditch player (he was a beater) and extremely handsome-- and he knew it. He had creamy dark brown skin, long slanting hazel eyes, short black curls that usually shone with gel, and perfect teeth that he often flashed in his trademark grin. Emma found that smug grin on the face of the boy more annoying than anything else on the face of the earth.

“Go away, Thomas,” Emma snarled, fingering her wand.

“This appears to be a Emma hex-fest,” Jordan commented simply, as Ron chose the exact wrong time to ask,

“Is that your boyfriend, Emma?”

“DAD!” Emma’s face turned maroon, and Tyrone laughed.

“Well, I’ll see you on the train, my love,” he said, emphasizing the words ‘my love.’ “And your charming friend Haley, and Ivy, the--”

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IVY!” threatened Emma.

Tyrone blinked. “What, I was going to say, ‘the lovely blonde.’ What did you think I was going to say? You’re weird… but it’s a very good kind of weird, you know?” He winked at Emma and strode off to chat with a few of his friends.

Ivy spoke for the first time since they had arrived at the station. “Emma,” she said hoarsely, “You don’t need to defend me, really. I got this before my father escaped from Azkaban, and I was fine then. And Thomas, well, he’s known me since first year, he’s not going to start thinking that I go about doing dark magic.”

“Yeah, it’s Ivy the Mistress of Darkness!” laughed Ted. “Oh no, don’t get in her way, or she’ll grind your bones to make her granola!”

Jordan looked up. “We ought to board the train if we don’t want to be late,” he stated in his low, flat voice.

Haley, Emma, and Ivy gave Ron hugs and boarded the train, Ted and Jordan behind them, but abstaining from the hugging. Jordan was carrying both his and his sister’s trunks, “Because I’m a delicate little thing,” as Haley had informed him.

People were staring at them as they walked through the first carriage, trying to find a compartment. The five of them had always been the object of some attention, as their parents were wizarding celebrities, but now, everyone was trying to get a look at Ivy.

“Make way, make way!” shouted Haley, inspired by two of her favourite relatives. “Seriously evil witch coming through! Don’t make her late for her appointment to have a cup of tea with her fanged servant!”

“I don’t know that girl,” Jordan informed a nearby seventh year, gesturing toward his twin. “Never seen her before in my life.”

Luckily, it didn’t take them long to find a compartment. There was an empty one in the first carriage, by some stroke of luck, and they loaded their things into the luggage rack. “We’ll promise to write!” Ted called out the open window to Ron. With Malfoy on the loose, he knew lots of letters home would be more than welcome.

“You won’t need to very much,” he replied. “I’m going to be visiting Hogwarts every weekend to give an Auror report to Harry, and to have a cup of tea with my wife. It’s going to be lonely back at Godric’s Hollow with two of my favorite people away at Hogwarts.”

“Well, thanks for making us feel loved, Dad!” Emma yelled jokingly.

“I think he meant me and you when he said, ‘his two favorite people,’” suggested Haley. “Isn’t that right, Uncle Ron?”

Ron laughed. “So, yeah, you’ll get to see me pretty often, as Hogwarts will be under lots of surveillance. And then there’s the matter of other Auror business.”

“Does ‘Auror business’ include playing with the fanged Frisbees that Mum’s confiscated?” Emma wanted to know.

Ron winked. “Maybe…” The train whistled and began to roll, and before long, Emma’s father was a little black, white, and red dot fading into the distance.

The train journey passed normally enough. Haley ingested too many sugar quills and tried (and failed) to instigate a sing-along. Jordan got cranky and hid behind a book, as usual. Emma and Ted played Exploding Snap, and Ted lost fourteen consecutive games, causing his eyelashes to become significantly more crispy than usual.

Ivy usually liked to read on the train voyage as well-- Muggle fantasy books were her favorite because she thought it was funny how unrealistic they were. Only Ted noticed, perceptive as he was, that she wasn’t actually turning the pages of her book, but he didn’t want to fuss over her. She didn’t like that.

Tyrone Thomas came by to irritate Emma; the Gryffindor Quidditch captain gave Jordan a thick book of new Seeker tactics; and sixth year Edwin Weasley (son of George and, much to his father’s consternation, a prefect) came by to see his cousins and warn them in a rather overdramatic manner of how difficult fourth year was. But then, things quickly became less than normal.

“Haley, you just ate the last sugar quill,” groaned Jordan.

“No, I didn’t!” chirped Haley, and she pulled a fresh sack out of the inside pocket of her so-called ‘pockety’ denim jacket.

“You always wear that jacket,” Emma pointed out. “Don’t you have any others?”

“No, this is my new jacket! You’ve never seen it before!” Haley exclaimed. She observed her friends’ confused expressions. “Come on! My normal pockety jacket had pink glitter on it. This one has pink sequins.” Ted and Jordan looked at one other in a “I’ll-never-understand-girls,” sort of a way.

Unfortunately, irritation came in a form that was tall, blond, and accompanied by an arm accessory of an obnoxious girlfriend. Ophidias Malfoy and Charybdis Nott stood smirking in the doorway. “Well, it’s the Gryffindorks,” sneered Ophidias, clearly unafraid of prosecution by prefects, seeing as he was one himself. “Not so cocky now that Father’s out of prison? Worried that he’d going to kill all of your little mudblood, Muggle-lover, and blood traitor friends?”

“No,” Emma replied through clenched teeth.

“Well, then, you’re clearly an idiot. You should be worried,” Ophidias informed her. “Not that your lack of intelligence is any news to me. Well, I just thought I’d stop by to let you know that things are going to be a lot different around here. When Father finds you at Hogwarts, you won’t be safe anymore.” He looked pointedly at Ivy as he said this, his cold grey eyes intensifying. It looked as though he was trying to bore a small, neat hole into each of his sister’s pupils.”

“He won’t,” Ivy said suddenly, in a small, hard voice.

“Who won’t what, blood traitor?”

“He won’t come and get us at Hogwarts,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “He won’t have a chance against the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“You tell him, Lightfoot,” Haley whispered encouragingly, using the nickname for Ivy that she and Emma sometimes used.

Ophidias raised an eyebrow-- a mannerism that always irritated Haley immensely, as she was the only person she knew who couldn’t raise an eyebrow at all. “The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? And who might that be?” he wanted to know.

“Don’t you wish you knew,” Jordan shot back, his lip curling.

“Well, we’ll be off now, but this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of us,” Ophidias drawled menacingly. “Good luck surviving, Gryffindorks… or not…” And with that, he left the compartment with his cronies, who were laughing amongst themselves.

“He’s a git,” Ted told the others conversationally.

* * * * *

Harry and Hermione, who were to be teaching at Hogwarts, had just Apparated into Hogsmeade and were now walking toward the school together. “It’s going to be strange coming back to Hogwarts after all this time,” Harry commented as the familiar castle came into view. “It’ll be like the DA days all over again. I’m half expecting to see Dumbledore at the staff table, Snape in the dungeon, and Malfoy…” he trailed off. “Well, I’m hoping we won’t see Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch.”

Hermione smiled tautly. She was rather attractive in a businesslike sort of way, her chestnut brown hair coiled in a tight bun and the merest hint of lipstick on her lips. “Well, everyone will be excited to see you, Harry,” she told him. “You should have seen Neville’s face when he heard you were going to teach.”

Neville Longbottom was the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. He and his wife, Luna, (the editor of a magazine called The Quibbler) were both famous for their time among ‘Potter’s Eight.’ Neville, who had been injured in the final battle against Voldemort, was also the only Hogwarts professor to be confined to a wheelchair, but that didn’t stop him from being a very well-liked teacher.

A nervous expression passed over Harry’s face. “Not everyone will be happy to see me,” he said in a low voice. “You and Ron weren’t over at the house when Jordan heard the news about me teaching. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry-- it was a bit scary, really. I mean, I could see him being annoyed that his father’s going to be grading his essays for the next year, but he was completely out of control.”

Hermione looked at him. “You didn’t have parents growing up,” she told him. “Jordan, well, surely you’ve noticed that he’s insecure about people comparing him to you, saying, ‘oh, you’re Harry Potter’s son,’ as soon as they meet him. And now you’re going to be at the school at well, and it’ll be a constant reminder of the fact that he has a very famous, very powerful father.”

Harry gaped. “Really?” he spluttered, feeling as though Hermione had just clued him in to who Nicolas Flamel was or that she’d been time-traveling all year. “Jordan… he feels jealous of me? He’s brilliant at everything!”

His sister-in-law laughed. “You’re worse than Ron sometimes. Well, it’s like when I was a girl at Hogwarts. My mother was beautiful, and I had a beautiful grandmother and two beautiful aunts, and I was the plain little girl in the family. So I always tried to work extra hard in school, so as to prove that I wasn’t entirely worthless, you know?”

“I never knew that,” Harry said slowly, amazement written all over his face. “I never knew that at all.”

* * * * *

When the five friends entered the Great Hall, Mr. Potter was at the staff table, deep in conversation with Professor Granger-Weasley and the Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom. But he looked up at them and waved cheerily as they took a seat at the Gryffindor table.

“I can’t believe Dad’s going to be teaching!” squealed Haley.

“Me neither,” moaned Jordan, sounding distinctly less happy than his twin.

“It’s going to be different without my dad doing Defence class,” commented Ted, his voice thoughtful. “Lessons on werewolves will be a lot less in-depth, for one.”

Unfortunately for them, Headmistress McGonagall did not share Dumbledore’s belief that real speech-making should be saved for after the sorting feast, and their stomachs were growling all throughout her lengthy address. Haley and Emma played tic-tac-toe on a napkin (Emma winning 8 out of 10 games) to relieve the boredom.

But after what seemed like ages, McGonagall finished up with, “and finally, as Professor Lupin is away with other business and unable to teach for the time being--” there were scattered boos and assorted mutterings-- “our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year is Professor Harry Potter.” Haley and Jordan’s father stood up and smiled at the assembled students as voices rang out throughout the hall.

“The Harry Potter?”

“Oh, I don’t believe this, I’m going to get his autograph first thing!”

“Blimey, he looks just like his picture on the trading cards; the scar’s really there!”

“We’re going to get taught by Harry Potter?”

“ROCK ON, DAD!”

The last voice was very loud, clear, high-pitched, and excitable sounding. Everyone turned to look at Haley, who waved cheerily at the student body.

“I don’t know her,” Jordan told a nearby student for the second time in not too long. If only, he thought, he could say the same for the man now receiving thunderous applause from the rest of the school.

The next morning, the five of them received their schedules at breakfast; Ivy had to help Emma (who was not a morning person) fish her schedule out of her porridge. Haley, on the other hand, was the only real morning person that any of them had ever met, and probably (according to Jordan) the only one in the world.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts first today!” she pointed out brightly, as usual twice as perky as a pot of fresh coffee.

“I’m… not…” Jordan managed to say before falling asleep face-down in his Danish. He had stayed up until two in the morning putting finishing touches on an essay because he knew he’d never be able to sleep if the essay wasn’t the best it could possibly be.

The other four continued to amicably discuss what Jordan had actually planned on saying (Haley’s heart was set on “I’m not wearing any underpants”) for the rest of breakfast until Jordan woke up, wiped the raspberry jam off of his hair, and demanded to know why Ted had just used the words ‘Jordan,’ ‘salsa dance,’ and ‘Zabini’ in the same sentence.

“I’m not looking forward to this,” he grumbled as they walked toward the Defence classroom, finishing the sentence he had begun before drifting off.

“Emma, you weren’t there when he found out that his dad was teaching,” Ivy whispered. “He was really scary. I barely even recognized him.”

Emma blinked. “He was that mad?”

“He was awful,” Haley whispered. “And Jordan doesn’t normally yell like that�”he just kind of…stews, usually. Yelling is more your area of expertise. But he was weird. He was like, ‘ZOHMAHGAWSH, school’s the one place I have for myself! And now you’re trying to ruin that for me, too! I DESPISE you!’ Yeah, he’s probably, like, the only kid in the world who uses words like ‘despise’ when he’s throwing a tantrum. But anyway, Dad just sat there the whole time while he screamed and chucked things across the room, just looking at him and not saying anything at all. I kept expecting him to jump up and scream, ‘GET OVER IT ALREADY!’ I mean, that’s what I would have done.”

Ted looked over his shoulder. “I like to whisper, too,” he whispered, and smiled sheepishly at the group. “So, what’s so whisper-y? Is my fly open or something?”

The girls exchanged glances. “Haley was just declaring her undying love for Professor Zabini,” suggested Emma as they reached the door to the Defence classroom, ducking as Haley attempted to bop her in the eye. (Professor Zabini, the subject of many jokes-- including one that had managed to stick with him for several years involving a potato--was the much-hated Potions master, and Haley’s arch-nemesis in particular.)

Several eager students were already occupying the front row of the classroom, so the five of them sat down in the third. Harry sat casually behind the teacher’s desk, writing something on a piece of parchment so that his face wasn’t directly visible. Ted couldn’t help but wonder if that was because, experienced and well-known though he may have been, Harry Potter didn’t want to sense the many stares that he was attracting.

The bell rang, and two things happened simultaneously. Professor Potter looked up, and a ripple of silence fell across the classroom.

“Good morning,” he said. “I know you’re all used to Professor Lupin, so it might be a bit tricky to get used to this class at first. I’ve got a tough act to follow; I had Professor Lupin myself when I was at Hogwarts, and he’s an excellent teacher.”

He walked out from behind his desk and leaned back against the front edge of it as he continued. “I’d tell you a little bit about myself, but I really don’t want to bore you. And I don’t even know what you want to know…so I thought I’d give you a chance to ask any questions you might have for me. It’s my initiation, I guess.”

He straightened his glasses. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t defeat the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her… Godric knows how that rumour started. So, does anyone want to ask anything?”

A giggly Hufflepuff girl named Isadora Dalton (the Hufflepuffs shared the class with the Gryffindors) raised her hand timidly. “Is it true that you were raised by Muggles?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, it is,” replied Harry. “I grew up not knowing the first thing about magic until I got my Hogwarts letter. Naturally, I was very surprised when I found out that I was a wizard.”

“So you didn’t know that you got rid of Voldemort when you were a baby?” called out Andy Yang, one of Tyrone Thomas’s close friends.

“No, I didn’t. But I had a memory of a lot of green light-- that was the killing curse,” Harry answered, not sounding quite as brisk and casual as he’d probably intended.

Another girl’s hand shot up. “Me dad says you ran into Voldemort six times,” she stated, as if expecting to be proven wrong. “That’s not true, is it?”

“Actually, it is, though ‘ran into’ probably isn’t the best way to describe what happened,” Harry informed her. “And one of the times was just a memory of him preserved in a diary, not exactly Voldemort himself. Not to mention that in every single one of those instances, I survived by sheer dumb luck and a little help from my friends.”

A Hufflepuff boy raised his hand as well. “Erm, what can you tell us about Severus Snape, sir?” he wanted to know.

Harry’s face took on an oddly blank look. “He taught Potions when I was at school, and he was a double agent. That is, he was both in the Order and a Death Eater. I never knew which side he was really loyal to, but my friend Ron Weasley--”

Two random girls in the back screamed, “RONALD WEASLEY!” until they were shushed by their eager classmates. Upon hearing them, Emma looked as though she were about to vomit.

“--Ron Weasley killed him in the final battle against Voldemort. I’ve always wondered whether Ron did the right thing or not ever since.” The class looked slightly unsettled at this display of insecurity, but Tyrone Thomas raised his hand as confidently as ever.

“Hey, Professor, you went to school with Draco Malfoy, right? Well, what was he like when he was a kid?”

Harry considered the question, a smile flitting across his face. “A slimy git,” he answered simply. The class laughed, and after that, the mood became considerably lighter, as did the questions. (The next few questions ranged from least favorite vegetable to glasses prescription and shoe size to favorite band to most embarrassing moment, and Harry answered them all with dignity and a good sense of humor.)

Several farcical moments later, the class was nearly over, as was the steady deluge of questions.

“What did you dream last night?” asked Isadora Dalton, who had already asked several questions.

Harry smiled. “Well, in the dream, I was chasing my cousin Dudley-- and I haven’t even seen him in about twenty years-- around Zonko’s joke shop, brandishing a wand that turned into a rubber chicken. And then I got arrested and thrown into Azkaban for wearing black shoes after Easter. I usually have very weird dreams.” He didn’t mention, of course, that there had been a time in his life when Voldemort had actually tampered with his dreams, as this was not something he liked to share with the general public.

Tyrone raised his hand again, a look of cunning crawling across his handsome face. “I have a question that I bet everybody else wanted to ask, but nobody had the guts. Professor, how exactly did you kill Voldemort? What happened?”

Even Haley, Emma, Ivy, and Ted sat up a bit straighter at this, though Jordan remained slouched over in the same way as usual. Haley and Jordan’s dad had told them a lot about his past, but he’d never said anything about the final battle, not even once.

Harry’s expression grew serious, and there was a strange, closed look about it. “That, I’m afraid, I can’t tell you. It’s not that I’m afraid you’ll judge me by it or that I don’t think you’re ready to hear it; it’s because I’m still not yet ready to tell people what happened that day. I hope you’ll understand. Only seven other people in the world know the truth.”

“Eight,” muttered Jordan, but nobody heard him except for Ted, whose senses always seemed sharper than everyone else’s. He didn’t know why Jordan had said what he had, but he put it out of his mind for the time being; Jordan was an odd person, and he was always saying things that absolutely no one else understood.

The class grew silent, and Haley looked up at her father. One thing about him was that he’d always looked quite young for a man in his late thirties, always energetic and full of life. But right now, he looked older than usual, and tired. She then realized something she’d never seen before�”the look in his eyes, the bright green eyes that people always said were exactly like hers and Jordan’s.

She hadn’t really noticed it before, but his eyes were different from hers, slightly hardened somehow, the eyes of someone who’s been through more than he ought to have. There was sadness in his eyes that never fully went away, a sadness that she’d also seen in Ted’s father’s eyes and in photos of Sirius Black. She couldn’t help but wonder what those eyes had seen.

Haley shook herself. It wasn’t like her to think this way… what had gotten into her?

The silence that had settled over the room for what seemed like an eternity was broken when Isadora asked the last question: “Professor, one more question for you… briefs or boxers?”

Harry grinned, looking more like his old self again. “Boxers,” he replied simply.

At that moment the bell rang, and the class got up to leave. As Ivy gathered her books and pushed in her chair, Harry motioned for her to stay behind.

“Go on without me,” she mouthed to her four friends. Emma nodded and led the others out of the classroom, leaving Ivy with the teacher.

* * * * *

Ivy sat back down. “Er, does this have anything to do with my… my father?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” answered Harry. “Well… no. Well… in a way, yes.” You’re certainly articulate today, Professor, he thought sarcastically. He folded his hands together, unfolded them again, stretched out his fingers, and tried another tactic. “Ivy, you know, with your father on the loose and your mother in Azkaban, you don’t really have a place to call your home now-- unless you live with your brother, which I frankly can’t imagine.”

“I thought about that,” Ivy said, running her fingers absentmindedly through her fringe.

Harry swallowed and cracked his knuckles, the resulting popping sounding repulsively loud as it echoed through the silent classroom. The proposition he was about to make had seemed quite logical at the time, but now he thought Ivy might get offended. “Well,” he began at last. “Ginny and I were talking about that…” Get to the point, he urged himself silently, “…and we were thinking that we could… adopt you.”

Ivy’s pale, pinched-looking face stretched into a broad smile, and before Harry knew what had happened, she had thrown her arms around him in a tight hug. She didn’t say anything at all, just hugged him, then scooped her things into her arms, and ran toward the door (Harry felt sure that she would inform Haley and Emma of the news within the next two minutes), her face shining with happiness as it hadn’t for far too long.

“Ivy?” called Harry. She turned around, looking slightly startled. “I know that since your father’s escape--”

“Malfoy.”

“Pardon?”

“Since Malfoy’s escape.”

Harry was both unsettled and touched by this simple statement, but his expression didn’t change. “Since Malfoy’s escape, you haven’t really been yourself. It’s all right to admit that you’re afraid.”

The girl hugged her books to her chest, reminding Harry irresistibly of Jordan and of Hermione as a girl. “I… I am afraid,” she admitted softly.

“But am I right in thinking that you’re not afraid for your own safety?” asked Harry. “You’re scared for Haley and Emma and Ted and Jordan, and you feel responsible for the damage that Malfoy did.” Ivy looked completely stunned, her light grey eyes wide.

“Y-yes,” she managed.

Harry looked her in the eye. “They’re safe,” he told her. “You don’t need to worry about them. Worry about yourself.” Ivy nodded, wearing a strange expression that was a mixture of shock and delight.

“Thanks you,” she whispered. “For… for everything.”


She left the room in a flustered whirl, looking briefly back over at Harry over her shoulder, but he pretended not to notice. He was worried about his daughter-to-be. She was far too serious sometimes, he thought, and she worried too much about others and blamed herself for deeds she hadn’t done.

“Does she remind you of anyone?” asked a voice from the doorway. Harry looked up suddenly to see Hermione standing there, a slight smile playing across her lips.

“Who do you mean?” Harry asked, confused.

Hermione’s smile widened. “You.”

* * * * *

“Ivy’s really taking a long time in Dad’s classroom,” Haley commented as she and her friends sat in the Common Room. She and Emma were playing wizards’ chess, but with the added twist that you had to forfeit a sugar quill every time one of your pieces got captured.

“She has been awhile,” Ted replied with a slight look of concern, looking up from the rather badly-drawn comic strip he was creating. “Your dad’s Head Auror, after all. Maybe Malfoy did something really bad, and he has inside information that he wanted to tell her.”

Jordan mumbled something under his breath about questions and eight being more accurate than seven and boxer shorts, before slamming his book shut and stalking off to his dormitory.

“Well, that was weird,” Emma mentioned brightly.

Just then, Ivy entered the room, but she was Ivy as they hadn’t seen her in over a week. Her face, which had been pale and anxious-looking since she’d learned about her father’s escape, glowed with excitement. She raced into the Common Room, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, and braid flying behind her. “Guess what?” she exclaimed, her voice almost a whisper from excitement.

“Your dad’s been caught!” shouted Emma.

“Ophidias has been expelled!” Ted guessed.

“McGonagall sacked Zabini!” Haley squealed.

Ivy grinned. “Better-- I’m going to be adopted!” Emma, Ted, and Haley all cheered at this, knowing how much she’d always hated staying with her own family.

Suddenly, Haley frowned. “Oh, I hope whoever adopts you still lets you come over to our place every summer. We’d all miss you, and I’m pretty sure Mum and Dad think of you as their fifth kid by now.”

Ivy’s grin grew even more. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be spending plenty of time in Godric’s Hollow…since your parents are adopting me!”

Haley and Emma converged on Ivy in a massive hug and screamed ear-burstingly in her ear, dancing and jumping around in circles. “YOU’RE GOING TO BE MY SISTER!” hollered Haley.

“IVY POTTER IS THE COOLEST NAME EVER!” bellowed Emma. “It sounds like a potted plant or something!”

Ted hung back, looking confused and feeling left out, until the two other girls stepped back a few feet. He didn’t say anything but just stood there, letting Ivy wrap her arms around him in a hug that he returned warmly. She stepped back, beaming at him, her face radiant.

He loved it when Ivy was happy. It didn’t happen enough.

* * * * *

Their next period class was Herbology, but they couldn’t concentrate as they dissected their screaming biffleroot. That is, Ivy, Emma, Ted, and Haley couldn’t concentrate. Jordan seemed to be concentrating on his plant even harder than usual, not even looking over at his friends once.

“I don’t think Jordan is too happy about me being part of the family,” Ivy whispered to Emma.

“What? Oh, well, he’s just being brotherly toward you,” Emma whispered back. “That’s how he is to Haley all the time.”

They had marched straight into the boys’ dormitory and informed Jordan of the news right after their little hugging session, and he had behaved oddly, even for Jordan. He’d muttered, “Oh, fantastic,” in a sarcastic sort of way, and then promptly hid behind a book, not moving or saying a word until the other four got bored and left.

And now he was employing a similar tactic, focusing on his screaming biffleroot with intense concentration. Haley tapped him on the shoulder, but he didn’t turn around. Emma lobbed a particularly raucous chunk of biffleroot at him, lodging it in the hair over his left ear so that it hollered directly into his ear canal, but he still didn’t turn. They finally figured he just was not in a chatty mood.

Ted wore a thoughtful expression as he emptied the seeds from his plant into a dish. “Ivy, do you remember your father at all?” he asked. “I mean, before he went to Azkaban?”

Ivy’s face, bent over her biffleroot, darkened. Some of the pinched look she’d had for the last few days returned, and her jaw tightened. “Yes,” she said softly, “but I try not to think about it.”

“Why, was he awful?” asked Haley.

Ivy shook her head. “No, he was… he was wonderful,” she admitted, all too aware of the stunned looks on her friends’ faces. “I remember he used to come home from work every day and give my mother a kiss, and then, no matter how tired or frustrated he was, he’d always pick me up and swing me around. Then he’d sit me down on his lap and say, ‘You’re getting big. Springing up like a regular Ivy plant.’”

She smiled sadly. “And he used to tell me bedtime stories about me riding flying horses, and when my mother had a fancy dinner party and I was bored out of my skull, he would sit across from me and make funny faces when the ladies were talking. And I remember sometimes, he would get mad at my mother and Ophidias, but he never yelled at me, not even once.”

Emma peeled the sticky violet skin off her biffleroot and sliced it into little chunks. “Maybe he didn’t blow up St. Mungo’s at all?” she suggested. “Maybe he was framed, like Sirius.”

Ivy shook her head. “No, he wasn’t. I remember one day, my father didn’t come home from work, so I asked my mother, ‘Where’s Daddy?’ And she said he… he wouldn’t come back for awhile. So I asked her if he was okay, if he was in the hospital, and… and she got this look in her eye. He didn’t come home, and I kept having nightmares where he was disappearing off on a flying horse, and when I tried to follow him, I fell.”

She swept back her fringe. “When I was older, I started reading, and I learned the truth about what happened.”

She looked miserable, and Haley patted her arm comfortingly. “And then,” Ivy continued, “When I was eight, my mother took us to London, I forget why, and I was playing with this other girl. Well, my mother just came hurtling out of this shop, and she yanked me in by the ear and snapped, ‘what do you think you’re doing? She’s a Muggle!’

“See, I’d heard my mother talking about Muggles all the time, but I’d always imagined them to be these giant green monsters. But this girl, she was really nice, and just a normal person, like me. And after that, I started reading up on Muggles and I read what the Death Eaters had done, and that was when I decided that I… I didn’t want to be part of that family anymore.”

“But how could he have been so nice to you and be such a terrible person?” Haley asked after an uncomfortable pause. “I still think he’s innocent.”

Jordan, who had been pretending that he wasn’t listening, looked up from his biffleroot. “No,” he said quietly. “He just loved you.”

“MALFOY BELIEVED TO BE GAINING IN POWER!
Ministry has no leads to his whereabouts

Oct. 28, 2018, Hogsmeade.

Ever since the August 24th escape of Draco Malfoy from Azkaban prison, the Ministry has been on the lookout for any clues as to where he is and what he is doing. Last week, several Muggles were found dead on a street in suburban London, their bodies unmarked, as is typical of victims of the killing curse. The Muggle Prime Minister has been alerted of Malfoy’s escape, but even with the Muggles on the lookout, no trace of Malfoy has been reported.

A source who wishes to remain anonymous has reported to the Prophet that Malfoy now has nearly a hundred secret supporters, and that he is now planning a mass murder of Muggle-born wizards and witches. Whether these rumours are true or not remains to be seen, but this reporter hopes that they are not.

As always, we are appealing to the public to report any sightings or information.”

Ivy tried to roll up the newspaper, but her hands were shaking too badly. Ted did it for her, but inside he was just as worried as she. From the sound of it, Malfoy was coming to power just as Voldemort had, and if this was going to be like Voldemort’s reign, many people would be deeply in danger, in particular people he loved.

Ivy had been a lot cheerier lately, over two months after Malfoy’s escape. Her adoption had been approved by the Ministry, which meant that her name was now Ivy Potter (though teachers and other students often forgot this), and she had adjusted quite easily to calling Harry and Ginny, ‘Dad’ and ‘Mum.’

“It was actually kind of hard remembering not to call them ‘Dad’ and ‘Mum’ for the last three and a half years, to tell you the truth,” she’d said at the time.

But now, thought Ted, her good mood was going to disappear again.

Emma shrugged. “The ‘anonymous source’ is probably just some random bloke who wanted to cause a bit of a stir. I really doubt that anything he said is true.”

“Post’s here,” remarked Haley as a torrent of owls flew into the Great Hall. (The newspaper had been delivered by Zsa Zsa, Ted’s always-early owl.) A very large black owl, bearing a black envelope edged with silver, fluttered down and dropped off its envelope in Tyrone Thomas’s hands, hooting mournfully as it took off.

“New owl?” Ted asked politely.

Tyrone shrugged. “Never seen it before,” he answered casually, slipping the envelope into his pocket. “I’ll read this letter later-- it might be another one of those singing cards from a secret admirer. Terribly embarrassing, those things.”

Several more jet-black owls were now speeding through the window from the various tables. “Perhaps they’re extra-efficient post owls. After all, it looks like they’re flying faster than the usual owls,” guessed Jordan.

Haley changed the subject. “It’s really too bad they canceled all of the Hogsmeade weekends on account of Malfoy. It’s so pretty out.”

Emma nodded morosely. “No Quidditch, either-- what, do they think Malfoy’s going to be lurking in the Slytherin stands?”

“And they don’t have musical theatre this year,” putting Jordan, helping himself to kippers as he added a little too hastily, “Not that I enjoyed that all. Instead, Aunt Hermione is holding peer counseling. It sounds dreadful.” He made a face.

Ted arched an eyebrow, causing Haley undue pain and suffering. “Actually, I think that’s a great idea,” he told Jordan. “Think about it. A lot of people might want someone to talk to about their problems these days. You know, someone their own age, who actually understands their problems?” Like Ivy, he thought privately. “I’m signing up as a counselor.”

“Me, too. You get to chat, and you get warm fuzzies from helping people!” added Haley happily. “Where do you sign up?”

Jordan pointed to a scroll thumb tacked to the double doors of the Great Hall, and Ted and Haley got up to fill in their names. When they returned, Haley was wearing a satisfied expression.

“What’s up?” Emma asked warily, not missing it.

“Oh, nothing.” Haley wore a strange grin most commonly spotted on the face of a tiger when it’s inches away from your own. “I’ve just signed you up as a peer counselor.”

* * * * *

Ron’s weekend visits to Hogwarts were usually a cheery affair. After he and Harry discussed Auror business briefly, they would join Hermione for a spot of tea and some conversation. But today, when Ron arrived in Harry’s office, Harry knew that something was wrong.

His brother-in-law was standing grim-faced in the doorway, his long, lean body erect and his freckles standing out more than usual. Without any preamble, he announced hollowly, “Malfoy attacked London. Six people are dead.”

Harry blinked. “I know, it was in the Prophet,” he replied calmly. “I thought we talked about that days ago.”

Ron collapsed heavily into a chair. Up close, he looked rather drawn-- Harry suspected that serving as Acting Head Auror during these trying times was beginning to take a toll on him. “Harry, the Prophet’s behind the times. I don’t mean the Muggles; early this morning, he went out and blasted six people: Dennis Creevey, Daphne Greenglass, Hannah Abbot, Marcus Belby, Zacharias Smith, and Parvati Thomas.”

The words hit Harry with a strong impact-- these six people he’d gone to school with were dead at the hands of Draco Malfoy? He’d never been too familiar with Daphne or Marcus, but he remembered Hannah, a cheery blonde witch; and Dennis, a small and excitable wizard who had idolized Harry as a schoolboy.

And Parvati-- he had known her the best of the group. She had been a very pretty, vivacious lady, if rather gossipy and not overwhelmingly brilliant. Harry had gone to a ball with her in his fourth year, though he’d been a terrible date for her. Parvati’s husband, Dean Thomas, was a friend of Harry’s, and her sister Padma was the Healer at Hogwarts. Then there was her son, Tyrone, handsome and cocky. Harry could only imagine what Tyrone would be like after hearing the news of his mother’s death.

“So, I suppose he did go after the Muggle-borns, like it said in the Prophet,” Ron sighed, conjuring up a mug of tea and drinking deeply.

Harry stirred in his seat. “But Parvati and Smith, they were purebloods. And that Smith, I’d peg him as one of Malfoy’s followers, not one of his victims.”

“Well, Malfoy went to the Thomas’s to kill Dean-- he’s Muggle-born, remember? Only Parvati tried to summon the Auror forces when he got there. I sent out some of the best men in the office to catch him, and I guess Malfoy killed her so she couldn’t tell them what had happened. Well, when the Aurors arrived, they saw the door blasted open, Parvati’s body, and Malfoy’s mark over the house.”

“The Dark Mark?” asked Harry.

Ron shuddered slightly. “No,” he answered. “It was blood red, and it looked like a skull with two snakes wrapped around it, then going in the nose holes and out the eye sockets.” Harry found this idea repulsive, which was probably the idea. “And Smith was the anonymous source in the Prophet! He joined Malfoy, but he was a double agent. His wife got sent his posthumous Order of Merlin Second Class-- right before he died, he gave more information to the Ministry. He said that Malfoy-- the Dark Master, he’s calling himself now-- has a load of followers called the Overseers.”

Harry breathed out. It wasn’t really a sigh, just an exhalation of breath. “You know,” he said slowly, “It’s kind of strange, I always knew Malfoy was up to no good, but I never thought he’d have the drive or the nerve to do something like this. I mean, he never seemed like a Dark Lord type to me, more like a follower.”

Something flickered behind Ron’s blue eyes. “Yeah. And the thing is… I think it’s all my fault. I mean, he wasn’t like this until after I did in Lucius.”

“Well, that was in self-defence,” Harry pointed out fairly. He was slightly startled by his friend’s statement. Ron was not usually one to discuss feelings.

“Yeah, but it’s like Dumbledore said. Killing is harder than most people think it is,” Ron sighed. Harry did not like this particular topic of conversation; it dredged up too much of his uncomfortable past, and he felt the need to change the subject.

“So, how’s work?”

Ron gave him a noncommittal jerk of the head. “You know,” he answered. “Stressful. And I’ll never get used to having Percy as Minister of Magic. He’s in the Auror office all the time now for updates on the Malfoy Case, always popping into my cubicle saying, ‘Any reports, Weasley?’ I mean, seriously, ‘Weasley?’ He’s my brother, for Merlin’s sake! I keep wanting to call him ‘Weatherby!’”

* * * * *

Later that day, Haley, Jordan, Ivy, Ted, and Emma made their way toward Potions, a subject they all loathed. Although all five of them were actually quite talented potion makers, especially Jordan, Zabini made sure to constantly berate them in front of the class. Haley took a particular dislike to him for several reasons, and could not help but imagine the Snape she’d heard so much about from her father to be exactly like Zabini.

On their way to the dungeons, they passed the hospital wing, where Emma spotted quite an unusual sight. Madame Padma Patil, the school’s healer, was wrapped in a tight embrace with none other than Tyrone Thomas! Emma had seen many, many unlikely girls as Tyrone’s chosen lap dog, but this hit new heights of absurdity. “Oy, Thomas!” she yelled after him. “Getting a bit desperate for a girlfriend, are you?”

Her friends chortled as they passed by, and Jordan commented, “She’s his aunt, though, you know. Maybe Madame Patil was hugging him because she was glad to see her nephew.”

Haley shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “That was not a ‘nice to see you’ sort of hug!” And the group of them continued to happily discuss reasons for said hug, with only Ted abstaining from the conversation. He didn’t want to join in because he had noticed something that no one else had: Tyrone’s eyes were red-rimmed and his face looked drained. Could he, the boy who was never fazed by anything, not even multiple rejections from Emma, have been crying?

They reached the dungeons less than a minute before the bell rang. “Late,” Professor Zabini announced flatly. “Three points off Gryffindor, each.”

“We’re not late, sir,” Haley protested, spitting out the word ‘sir’ as though it hurt her mouth to utter it. “The bell hasn’t even rung yet.” The bell sounded as she spoke the word ‘rung,’ and Zabini sneered.

“Now it has,” he corrected her. “And as you know, if you are not seated when the bell rings, you are considered late. Five more points from Gryffindor for your cheek.”

Zabini, surprisingly enough, was not ugly in the slightest-- in fact, he was quite handsome, which only irked Haley more, who preferred things to be clear-cut and spelled out in black-and-white.

“Now, today, we will be brewing a swelling solution, which I believe you also prepared in your second year. This particular variation, however, is more difficult to make because of the many additional ingredients. The advantage to making this variant of the swelling solution is that the only known antidote takes twenty-four hours to take effect, and this causes this solution to be especially effective. Well, let’s see what you can produce at the end of a half-hour period.”

Everyone got to work, measuring ingredients just so and dicing them meticulously for mixing the potion. Just as Emma got up to get some dragonfly wings from the store cupboard by the door, Tyrone walked into the classroom.

“I’ve got a pass, sir,” he announced, handing one over to Zabini. “From Madame Patil.” His voice sounded weak, forced, and he wasn’t walking with his usual swagger. Zabini’s eyes scanned him briefly, then the Potions Master nodded curtly and pointed over to a cauldron. “I’m, er, not going to be here for the next two weeks or so... this is my last day before I go home. So I’m, you know, going to need a list of my assignments.”

“Very well. Begin your brewing, Mr. Thomas. Mr. Yang can assist you, as you missed the beginning of the lesson,” he instructed. This was unusual for him-- he usually wasn’t so…human.

At the end of half an hour, they had finished their potions. Jordan was very proud of his, which was clear as water without a single cloud or tint in it, and he couldn’t help but think that his was the best in the class.

Zabini strode down the rows, looking into cauldrons and remarking on what he saw there. “This is the work of a careless potion maker, Mr. Lupin, and it is clear that you were too heavy-handed with the newts’ blood. You simply cannot be so careless with your potions. One day, you may be forced to brew the Wolfsbane potion for your father, and even the slightest error could kill him. Miss Weasley, Miss Potter, you did not allow yours to stew long enough, and therefore, the steam is far too thick. And as for you, Miss Malfoy, this is an overall shoddily made potion. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ivy sat calmly, not moving a muscle.

“Miss Malfoy?”

Zabini’s eyes were boring into hers, and after a rather long silence, she replied quietly, “I’m afraid I don’t know to whom you are speaking, sir. My name is Ivy Potter.”

“Five more points from Gryffindor,” hissed Zabini. There was no reason to be taking points, but everyone knew that it was not in their best interest to complain. It would only mean the loss of even more points. He moved on to Jordan, peering critically into his cauldron. “As for you, Mr. Potter, I believe you added too much syrup of acanthus. It seems to me as though your potion gives off a distinctly acidic scent not found in a properly brewed swelling solution.”

“I followed all of your instructions, sir,” Jordan said stiffly. Zabini’s dark eyes flashed, and he dipped a vial into Jordan’s potion, wafting the scent under his nose.

“Tell me, Potter, what do you smell?” he hissed, shaking the vial slightly. At this, several drops of the potion spilled out of the top and splashed onto Jordan’s lower lip, which bubbled unpleasantly and swelled to three times its usual size.

“Oh, it appears your potion was satisfactory after all,” drawled Zabini, “as it seems to have worked. Pity that the antidote takes twenty-four hours to take effect.” And the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Jordan was glaring, though the unintentional pout he was wearing due to his drooping lower lip made him look like a cross between Haley in a bad mood and Napolean Dynamite.

As Emma gathered her books, she said casually to Tyrone, “So, Thomas, what was so important that you had to skive off half of Potions? House burned down? Mum died? Or something really important, like you broke a nail?” Tyrone’s face turned an odd pale purplish color, his eyes bulged slightly, and without a word, he turned on his heel and marched quickly out of the dungeons.

“What was that all about?” asked Haley.

“Maybe he really did break a nail,” guessed Ted.

* * * * *

The next day was October 29th, the day before Emma’s birthday. The Daily Prophet had published a front-page article about the murders of Parvati Thomas, Hannah Abbott, Marcus Belby, Daphne Greenglass, and Zacharias Smith, and much of the school was in an uproar. Harry, along with several other staff members, was assigned the task of posting pictures of Malfoy throughout the corridors so that students would presumably know who he was if he somehow snuck into the castle.

It is very difficult to post someone’s picture all throughout a castle without noticing their face, and Harry couldn’t help but look at Draco Malfoy’s picture. After ten years in Azkaban, there was something distinctly Sirius-ish about it.

His hair was so matted with dirt that it was hard to tell that it was white-blond underneath, and it had grown into long tangles down his back. However, Malfoy’s filthy, gaunt face, eerily hollowed and shadowed, did not wear the hopeless corpselike expression that Sirius had in his prison photographs. Instead, his face shone with a deep, wild anger, his deadened grey eyes shining fiercely out from sunken sockets. Harry shivered and looked away, wondering for the umpteenth time how Ivy had turned out so well when her biological father had turned out so badly.

He had gone to school with Draco Malfoy for six years, but the man who had broken free from Azkaban was someone else entirely.

* * * * * *

“That’s horrible,” breathed Haley, lowering her newspaper. “Well, now we know why Thomas was hugging his aunt.”

“And why he ran off when you asked him if his mum had died,” added Ted, biting his lip. He cringed at the thought of what could have gone through Tyrone’s grief-stricken mind when he’d heard Emma flippantly ask him if his mother was dead.

Emma blinked. “Well, I feel stupid,” she remarked. “I bet the black owl was one of the ministry’s death messengers. I mean, everything makes sense now.” She didn’t look even remotely remorseful for how she had treated Tyrone earlier. After all, she didn’t even like Tyrone, and it wasn’t as though she had meant to insult him in any case.

In the midst of this, Jordan slouched into the room, his lip restored to normal. “Well, I just got discharged from the hospital wing,” he informed his friends unnecessarily. “And while I was down there, I was asked to hand out these peer-counseling assignments. Haley, you’re supposed to peer counsel someone named Jonas Harbin. Ted, you’re assigned to Ivy.” The other shot him jealous looks, and he smiled. (Ivy wasn’t there, as she was getting over the shock of the article by having a cup of tea with Harry in his office.) “And Emma, you’re working with… Tyrone Thomas.”

Emma buried her face in her hands. ““What a lousy early birthday present,” she moaned.

November was a grim, bleakly cold month, punctuated by reports of murders. And as quickly as it had come, November blurred into December, cold and snowy, and a less-than-jolly Christmas holiday was fast approaching.

Tyrone had been scheduled for five peer counseling meetings with Emma, but he hadn’t showed up for a single one, which suited Emma just fine. Other than that, he was largely back to his old self, though a bit more withdrawn, and now ignored Emma completely. On the other hand, Ivy and Ted’s peer counseling went quite well, and Mr. Potter’s Defence classes were excellent.

Despite the grave events lately, the five friends were all in high spirits as they packed their trunks to return to Number Seven, Griffin Circle on Christmas Eve.

Haley had eschewed her usual pink-and-denim ensemble and was wearing a red Santa Claus jacket and trousers trimmed with white fur and a little Santa hat, and Ted was wearing a pair of reindeer antlers mounted on a headband. Bells hanging from the antlers jingled merrily whenever he moved.

“Christmas is going to be great this year!” Emma enthused. “Ted, is the rest of your family coming by this year?”

Ted nodded, causing the jingle bells on his head to ring. “Yup. They’re all coming by tomorrow, though, for Christmas Day-- tonight’s a full moon, remember? Even with the Wolfsbane potion, my dad likes to be in his special room for transformation.” He began to toss clothes into his trunk, then paused suddenly. “Hey, I just realized something,” he remarked, straightening up with a jingling of bells. “I’m the only one here who’s not part of the family!”

Haley smiled semi-evilly. “Of course, that’s easily remedied,” she noted. Her friends gave him quizzical looks, and she clarified, “When you marry Ivy, we’ll all be related!”

Ivy blushed slightly, but the others laughed, and they traipsed down to Professor Granger-Weasley’s office. She was the head of Gryffindor house, and the only fireplace from which students were allowed to come and go freely via the floo network was located in her office.

When they reached her office, Haley and Jordan’s dad was there as well-- the five of them were the last students in the school to floo home, as they were going with teachers, and the teachers had to wait for the other students to leave before they did so. Haley and Jordan’s father was there, too, waiting for them when they arrived.

“Hello!” Harry greeted them. “Sorry you had to wait so long… nice antlers, Ted.”

Ted grinned. “My dad gave them to me,” he informed Harry. “Actually, they were your dad’s antlers, and he forgot to give them back.”

“Wow, the Prongs of Prongs!” remarked Haley in a reverent whisper. “Ow! Ivy, that was my foot you just stepped on!”

“You have been stepped on by the Light Foot of Lightfoot!” Ivy replied in the same reverent whisper, as Hermione got out the floo powder. Haley and Emma cracked up, and Ivy looked surprised that she had said something remotely humorous.

Jordan stepped into the flames first, followed by Emma, Haley, Harry, Ted, Ivy, and last, Hermione. Number Seven, Griffin Circle whirled into view, and they couldn’t help but marvel at the lavish decorations as they climbed out of the fireplace. Ginny had obviously been busy putting up garlands, fairy lights, and enchanted snow.

Speaking of Ginny, she came in from the kitchen, her long red hair flying behind her. “Harry! Hermione! Kids! Just who I’ve been waiting to see!” Everyone except for Jordan greeted her with a warm hug, even Ted.

“Because I’m not important,” added Ron, who had just Apparated into the room with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, come off it, Ron,” laughed Ginny, as a little girl with downy red hair in two wispy ponytails toddled into the room.

“Oooh,” breathed Ivy. “Is Holly walking now?” Holly and Jonathan, who would turn one year old on Christmas Day, were Haley, Jordan, and Ivy’s little siblings, the second set of twins in the family.

Ginny smiled proudly as a little red-haired boy toddled into the room after his sister. “They both are,” she informed them. “And Holly’s said her first word--Mama!”

“Mama!” exclaimed Holly, tugging on the hem of her mother’s robes with a pudgy hand. Harry scooped her up, holding her under the arms, and swung her in the air.

“You’re getting big!” he exclaimed. “Shooting up like a regular holly plant!”

Ivy’s face drained of color, and Ted remembered what she’d said earlier about Malfoy-- how he always swung he around saying, “You’re getting big! Shooting up like a regular Ivy plant!”

They all enjoyed a light supper-- Ginny didn’t want to exhaust her cooking skills before their Christmas dinner the next day-- and afterward, they gathered around the piano to sing Christmas carols. Ivy was a very talented pianist, and she played all of their favorite holiday songs with little Holly seated on her lap.

Ted wryly suggested that she play, “The Holly and the Ivy” at this, and she did so with a smile. Being back at Number Seven was obviously good for her psyche, and her face seemed to glow as her fingers danced up and down the keys. Even Jordan, usually rather cynical and detached, was enjoying himself.

“Last song before you go to bed,” Ginny instructed, glancing at the clock. “You’ll want a good night’s sleep before Christmas.”

“Play ‘Jingle Bells!’” suggested Emma. “But-- listen to this-- Jordan can play his guitar, I can play my drums, and Ted can play his harmonica! It’ll be cool!”

Ted smiled slightly, noting that his instrument was the only one that would not allow him to sing while playing it. Considering his voice, which had been extremely uncooperative and badly-behaved lately, this was probably wise.

“What about me?” demanded Haley, looking left-out.

“I know,” said Ivy, and she plucked the bell-decorated antlers off of Ted’s head. “Shake these. You can’t play ‘Jingle Bells’ without jingle bells!” Haley took the antlers eagerly, and everyone else got out their instruments. They all played together, the sound of the instruments and their voices rising and blending as one.

Harry put one arm around his wife and smiled fondly. They were all safe, all together, all happy and whole. Christmas would be beautiful.

* * * * *

Before going up to bed, Haley insisted that they put out ‘reindeer food’ in the backyard. It was a childish tradition, but it was a regular part if the Christmas festivities for the Potters, and she didn’t want to miss it. So all five friends bundled up in coats, hats, and scarves, and took a bag of oats outside to distribute over the snowy yard.

Ivy exhaled a puff of visible air. She’d always loved winter, and that particular night was especially beautiful. The cold night air whipped at her face, stinging her cheeks pink and making her eyes bright, and the stars and round full moon shone in the sky, reflecting ghostlike off the snow.

Of course, Jordan broke the silence by muttering, “How can anyone stand this weather? It’s freezing cold, and my socks are soaked through.” Emma rolled her eyes; trust Jordan to ruin any setting.

A thick forest began near the back of the Potter’s large yard, marking the boundaries of the property. Haley moved nearer toward it, scattering oats across the snow. Suddenly, though it may have been her imagination, something flickered behind one of the trees.

She blinked-- it had all happened so fast, she didn’t know whether it had really happened or not. She edged toward the forest, determined to see what had moved, ignoring Jordan’s calls of, “What are you doing, Haley? Get back here!”

Without warning, two large, luminous eyes appeared from around a bush, and there was a muffled snarling noise. Before she knew what was happening, she saw two slavering jaws studded with long yellow fangs, a muzzle covered in short wiry hair, a streak of brindled brown flashing past her, and then�”

“HALEY! NOOOOO!” A blur of bright blue material was hurtling toward her, knocking her flat on her back on the icy ground. The person in the blue parka had their arms outstretched, and the creature, whatever it was, lunged, pinning the person to the ground beside Haley with its clawed paws, ripping into the person’s face with those teeth, digging into their arms with those sharp claws.

A frenzy of sounds filled the air-- terrible howls of pain from the person in the blue parka, and screams and gasps that weren’t coming from the attacked at all, but from the other three still on their feet. And just as quickly, the silver-brown creature streaked back into the forest, leaving the snow stained with scarlet.

Haley’s disbelieving eyes rolled back into her head and everything faded into blackness.

* * * * *

After what seemed like less than a second, her eyelids flickered open and two fuzzy faces swirled into view. She was lying in her own warm bed, swathed in a patchwork quilt. Haley blinked, and the image became clearer-- Ivy and Emma were leaning over her bed.

“Emma! Ivy!” she gasped. “What happened? It wasn’t either of you who got attacked? What was that…what was the… are they all r--”

Emma’s face looked oddly sober, her complexion an odd greenish white and her jaw clenched tightly. Ivy was deathly pale again, tears flowing freely down her tense face. The door opened, and Ron entered, equally grim-faced. “He’s going to be all right,” he announced. “Harry just sent a Patronus to me from St. Mungo’s.”

“Uncle Ron!” Haley cried. “What--”

Ron sat down on the edge of her bed. “Ted,” he informed her, his voice shaking dangerously, “has been attacked by… by a werewolf.”

Haley clapped her hands over her mouth. A werewolf? That couldn’t be. Ted… a werewolf? “It wasn’t…” she began.

Ron shook his head, “No, it wasn’t his father who bit him. Remus took his potion, and he’s safe. Apparently--” he swallowed very hard, “Malfoy sent a werewolf to attack someone, anyone, in the Potter family. He went after you, but Ted jumped in front of you.”

“But he’s all right?” Haley asked in a small voice, still unable to grasp the fact that Ted would have to live as a werewolf for the rest of his life, suffer everything his father had. Remus Lupin had lived a sad and lonely life and grown old before his time, and Haley didn’t know if she could bear watching the same thing happen to the boy she had known her whole life.

Ron ran his fingers through his short, slicked ponytail. “Well, werewolf bites never heal, and there’s no cure. He’ll have a pretty nasty scar on his temple, and of course, he’ll have to deal with a transformation every full moon. But with the Wolfsbane potion, and the fact that his father will be able to give him firsthand advice on how to manage his condition, he’s a lot luckier than Remus was when he was first bitten.”

Haley nodded, but she still felt tears welling up in her eyes. They welled up dangerously, then splashed down her face. It wasn’t fair! Someone had tried to harm, even kill her, but Ted had jumped in front of her. Ted, sweet, funny Ted Lupin was lying in St. Mungo’s at that exact moment with an incurable disease and a permanent disfigurement.

Of course, this was just like Ted, she thought. The previous year, he’d jumped in front of a curse thrown at Ivy by Ophidias Malfoy, and had gotten knocked unconscious and had his head sliced open. But this was so much more serious-- how could he be brave enough to do something like that for her?

“I want to go visit him!” she demanded, trying to get out of bed, but her knees buckled beneath her. “I need to see him!”

“He’s not seeing visitors until tomorrow,” Ron informed her gently. “Just go to sleep. It’s late. You too, Emma, Ivy.”

“How am I supposed to sleep?” hollered Emma, who seemed incapable of tears. “Ted--”

“--Will be perfectly all right,” finished Ron, though he didn’t look completely convinced himself. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and Ivy, shaking uncontrollably, followed him to her room.

But she couldn’t sleep. Horrible images, terrible thoughts, and Ted’s inhuman scream of pain kept floating through her head, and she couldn’t take it any longer. Fourteen years old and a Gryffindor she might be, but that didn’t keep her from running down to the kitchen where Ginny sat and collapsing at the table, sobbing her eyes dry.

* * * * *

No one was in a very festive mood the next day, although it was Christmas. Without even opening any of their presents, Ted’s four friends, accompanied by Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off for St. Mungo’s first thing. None of them talked very much on the Knight Bus journey, on the way through the crowded London streets to the entrance at “Purge and Dowse Ltd,” or up the stairs to the first floor of the hospital, which was devoted to Creature Induced Injuries.

They walked into the “Dangerous” Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites to see Ted, who was occupying the very same hospital bed once used by Arthur Weasley. There were only two other occupants, both wearing rolls of bandages on their legs and still asleep, and Ivy couldn’t help but notice that their cots had been moved rather farther away from Ted’s than was typical.

Ted’s parents were talking to him (his mother’s hair a subdued shade of mousy brown), but Ivy saw with some surprise that they looked far less sad and concerned than she would have expected them to be. Maybe Ted’s eternally optimistic attitude had even brightened his parents’ mood.

“Six at a time only, please!” a passing healer instructed sharply. Remus and Tonks made to leave, but Hermione stopped them.

“We’ll wait outside,” she told them, gesturing toward herself, Ron, Harry, and Ginny. “He’s your son, after all.”

“We’ve been here since five A.M., actually,” Tonks told them. “His brother and sister left a minute ago. I’m sure Ted’s getting sick of us by now.”

“It’s all right,” said Harry. “You stay with him.” And the four adults edged out of the room, leaving Ted’s parents and friends gathered around him.

Ivy approached Ted’s bedside cautiously. Ted was sitting propped up, but his face was unnaturally white, and his shaggy hair was pushed back from his right temple to reveal a bloody and shredded mess. Ted, however, did not seem aware of his friends’ apprehension.

“Hi Ivy, Jordan, Emma, Haley!” he greeted his friends, a wide grin spreading across his drawn-looking face. “Glad you could make it. Here I thought you’d be at home eating all my candy canes!”

Well, this was not what Ivy had expected at all. She’d imagined a desperate, sobbing Ted; or a sullen, unresponsive Ted; or a hard-faced and determined Ted challenging the others to look him in the eye; or a frail, sickly Ted, though none of these seemed like the friend she knew. She hadn’t thought that the person she would find in the hospital bed would be smiling and speaking in his usual light, casual, and predisposed-toward-cracking voice.

“Nice to see you,” Emma greeted him, sounding a bit awkward. “Erm… how are you?” She shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“Oh, I feel all right now,” Ted assured them. “I’ll probably be home in a few days.”

“That’s good,” said Jordan, his voice a bit higher and considerably less flat than usual.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ted, smiling again. “I don’t bite… wow, really bad way to put that there, I’ll have to rephrase that.”

Haley giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth as the others turned to look at her.

“I’m not so ill that I’ll shatter if you laugh at me!” added Ted indignantly, raising an eyebrow. There was a bit of a lull, then he spoke up again. “I raised one eyebrow and Haley didn’t attack me? I ought to get bitten more often, maybe it’ll keep Haley from hitting me.”

‘How can he crack jokes like that?’ Ivy wondered madly. ‘How can he do that when he’s… a werewolf?’ They made uncomfortable conversation for several long minutes before Harry arrived.

“We should go now,” he told the non-Ted kids quietly, and they followed him to the door, waving to Ted and saying ‘goodbye’ and (very awkwardly) ‘Happy Christmas.’

“Wait!” called Ivy. “I brought my Christmas present to Ted. Let me give it to him!”

“Okay,” Harry replied. “We’ll wait for you outside.”

Ivy could hear Remus saying to Jordan in a low voice: “He’s taking it quite well, a lot better than most people would, though I don’t know whether he’s just trying to ease our tension or if he really hasn’t realized how serious his condition is going to be.”

Ivy moved back toward the hospital wing, holding a package wrapped in shiny red paper. “I brought you a present,” she told her friend, and gave it to him, standing back as he opened it. He tore off the paper eagerly.

“Oh wow! Thanks, Ivy!” It was a camera, a wizard camera, and a note inside the package read: “Ted-- you notice everything I miss. Next time, take a picture so I can see it, too. Ivy.” Ted smiled. “This is really cool. I can’t wait to take some pictures when I get out of here.”

Ivy just stood there, hands clasped, then she suddenly burst out, “Why do such bad things happen to good people all the time? It’s not fair… and it’s all my fault! If Malfoy--”

“Stop blaming everything on yourself. It’s not healthy,” Ted told her firmly, his voice cracking.

“You’re worried about MY health? Look at yourself.”

“I’d rather not, thanks.” Ted’s smile disappeared when he saw tears welling up in Ivy’s eyes. She was so emotional this year, crying or becoming withdrawn and nervous at the drop of a hat. This was a big difference from before, when she had always been cool and collected.

“Ted,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “I just can’t believe this could happen to you! How can be you be so calm about it! You have to transform every month… and your face…”

Ted smiled. “It’s not so bad. I get to be an Animagus without all of the hard work and study! And as for my bites, your mum can tell you that girls love a guy with a scar on his forehead.”

Impulsively, Ivy reached over and took his hand in hers. It was warm. Ted looked slightly surprised, but didn’t let go, either. “It’s just…” Ivy sighed, “I know your whole life’s messed up now. You’re going to have to go through all the transformations and everything, and there’s no cure…”

“Look, Ivy, if my dad can handle it, I can, too,” Ted told her gently. “I’m a werewolf now, and I guess that’s what I‘m going to be for the rest of my life, so it would be stupid not to get used to it. I don’t feel any different or anything, so I don’t want to be treated any different, you know? And besides, it’s just one little bite… well, not so little, but just one anyway.” He paused and looked up at her, giving her hand a squeeze. “Are you scared of me?”

“What? Scared of you? What do you mean?” Ivy blinked. Ted was probably the least scary person she could think of, not counting when he was singing.

Ted shrugged. “It’s nothing, it’s just, I can tell that Jordan and Haley and Emma couldn’t get away from me fast enough. It’s like I’m contagious or something.” He smiled. “I mean, okay, I guess I am technically speaking, but I don’t plan on biting any of them! I can think of much tastier snacks, no offense to them, I’m sure they suit someone’s tastes just fine…”

Ivy chuckled in spite of herself, then realized the seriousness of what he was saying. “I don’t see how they can be scared of you… in any case, I know I’m not. Scared for you, yes.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, silently but not awkwardly so. “Well, I guess I have to go now-- I just said I was going to deliver your present,” Ivy said at last.

“All right. Thanks again for the camera!” Ted said cheerily.

Before she turned to go, Ivy gave him a hug. He smelled just like always, of wool jumpers and peppermints. He’s the same old Ted, she thought. He might be a werewolf, but he’s still the same old Ted.

Ivy smiled at him and headed for the door. As she moved, she heard something jingle, and paused. The jingling stopped. She turned around, and the jingling began again. Ivy was puzzled for a moment, but then she realized-- she had Ted’s jingle bell antlers in the pocket of her trousers!

Quickly, she zipped back over to Ted’s bed and plopped the antlers down on his head. “Happy Christmas!” she chirped, and walked back out to the hallway where her three other friends were waiting.

“You took a long time giving Ted your present,” observed Haley.

“Yeah, what was it? A good Christmas snog?” asked Emma, smiling mischievously.

“Oh, well, we talked for a bit,” Ivy replied serenely, and she left the hospital considerably less pale than she’d been when she’d come in earlier.

By the time January rolled around, Ted’s ‘condition’ had become an accepted fact of life. After much thought, deliberation, and discussion with his parents, he’d made the decision to make the fact that he was now a werewolf public, and despite his classmates’ initial shock, most of them had gotten used to it and didn’t make a big deal over it.

Of course, it was one thing to be diagnosed a werewolf and quite another to actually go through transformation. And the first full moon Ted would have to experience was that night, January 23rd.

The five friends didn’t eat much at dinner-- even normally-calm Ted was more agitated than usual, which was, of course, natural, as he would be turning into a wolf in just a few short hours.

It had been arranged that he would use the Shrieking Shack (which had been fixed up and redecorated) for his transformations, although with the Wolfsbane potion, he would not technically be dangerous at the time. After all, it is rather disconcerting to try and sleep while your roommate is pacing around the dormitory as a wolf.

“Hey Ted,” Emma asked casually. “I’ve always wondered, what does that Wolfsbane potion thing do anyway? Is it just, like, a sedative or what?”

Ted shook his head. “No, it’s more like a, well, it makes you not really be a wolf, I mean, you’re a wolf, but you’re… this is hard to explain.”

Jordan took over for him. “The Wolfsbane potion allows the drinker to retain his or her sense of self when in wolf form and keeps them from suffering the bloodthirsty impulses of the un-subdued beast.” He took a sip of pumpkin juice, surveying the girls’ confused expressions. “It means that Ted will look like a wolf but he’ll be a human inside, like an Animagus,” he clarified, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, next time you explain stuff to us, try English,” Haley suggested kindly.

Ivy was quiet again. Not only was that night’s transformation weighing on her mind, but there had also been an unpleasant incident earlier that day. A first year had exclaimed, upon seeing her in the hall, “You! Your father killed my mum!”

Ivy had swallowed and replied in a voice that was stronger than she felt, “Unless your mum was Lord Voldemort, my dad didn’t kill her.”

“Oh, you know who I mean,” the first year had snapped. “And Professor Potter might have adopted you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a Malfoy. My dad always says, there’s no such thing as a good Malfoy.”


“You’re dad’s a moron, then,” Emma had said simply. “Sorry your mum’s dead and all, but at least she doesn’t have to put up with having a git like you for a kid anymore. Come on, Ivy. Let’s go.”

Ivy hadn’t thought this very nice at all, but she kept her mouth shut. There was no point in trying to stop Emma from doing something when she wanted to do it. It was like trying to stop the sun from rising.

Back to the present, Jordan was speaking very fast, something he only did when extremely excited or nervous. “So, if you’re going to be transforming but you’ll still think and feel like a human being, then you obviously won’t be a dangerous creature. Well, if that’s the case, we could visit the shack with you, you know, provide moral support on your first transformation, because naturally, it’ll be quite frightening, and--”

“To put that into regular people-speak,” clarified Emma, “Jordy wants to know if we can go to the Shrieking Shack with you, since you’re not going to rip our guts out.”

Ted took a bite of steak-and-kidney pie. “Well, all right. But I really doubt that McGonagall will let you, and…”

Haley smiled. “Well, don’t let her know we’re coming. We’ll use my invisibility cloak.”

* * * * *

Harry was less than fond of Blaise Zabini, Potions Master and head of Slytherin. Not only was he cold and unpleasantly arrogant, he was biased toward the Slytherins and was especially harsh on Harry’s kids. But his dislike came to a head that day in the staff lounge.

He and Hermione were discussing, as was the almost ubiquitous topic of discussion at that time, Draco Malfoy, when Professor Zabini put in his two cents.

“Personally,” he drawled, “I don’t see what all the fuss is. It’s not as though he’ll be killing anyone important, just a few Muggles and Mud… Muggle-borns.”

Harry was rather shocked. Although Blaise had never been exactly the nicest guy in the school, he had always been disdainful toward Death Eaters and Overseers, despite being a Slytherin. Could he have really joined Malfoy?

“You know perfectly well that some of the greatest wizards and witches in history have been Muggle-born!” Hermione told him coldly. “Edgar Czarvesky, Lily Potter, John Andre Burke… some magic historians even believe that Merlin was Muggle-born.” Zabini snorted derisively. “What makes Muggle-borns inferior anyway?” Hermione continued.

Harry decided to let her handle this on her own, and got himself a cup of tea, determined to avoid the entire situation.

Zabini ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m actually answering this. Well, for one, Muggles can’t do magic, obviously.”

“You do realize that there are many, many more Muggles and Muggle-borns than there are purebloods?” Hermione informed him. She was really getting worked up now. “A few hundred years ago, Muggles were putting suspected witches and wizards to death, Blaise. That could have been you! And even worse, there are still people in this world who are idiotic enough to target other people because their ancestors�”like yours�”came from Africa!”

Harry was beginning to feel very embarrassed. “Well, that’s stupid,” Zabini said emotionlessly.

“I agree,” responded Hermione, equally emotionlessly. “And you know what? No matter what you call it, that’s prejudice, and so’s discriminating against Muggles. Anyway, anyone who joins the Overseers--”

Zabini’s face contorted into the expression that most people would wear if they had dung shoved under their nose. “The Overseers?” he snarled. “They’re a disgrace to purebloods. They accept the fact that they’re known to the world as ‘the dark side’ rather than trying to prove their point. They’re simply thugs who want to hurt people, and they put no thought into their senseless killings. Most of them don’t even know what they’re fighting for. I would never join the Overseers. My--”

He suddenly seemed to realize to whom he was ranting, and stopped speaking abruptly. He strode out of the staff room, closing the door soundlessly behind him as he swept off to the dungeons.

* * * * * *

“Ted, good luck tonight, mate!” called a Hufflepuff boy who Ted vaguely recalled as being named Rupert Daniels.

“Hope everything goes all right,” a pretty Ravenclaw girl named Erika Corner said as Madame Patil led Ted down to the grounds.

They had to wend their way through throngs of well-wishers to get down to the Whomping Willow. Ted couldn’t believe it-- how could one little bite (okay, one massive chomp out of his face) have made him so popular?

In the conversations he’d had with his parents about whether or not he should reveal the fact that he was a werewolf, his father had warned him that there was a good possibility that a lot of people he’d considered friends would no longer want to spend time with him. But here he was, the center of attention.

“Hey!” yelled Tyrone. “Bite Zabini for me, will you?”

“And have to share the shack with him? I don’t think so,” Ted replied, grinning. He appeared happy and relaxed, but inside, the butterflies in his stomach were mutating into pterodactyls.

Hs father had told him that the transformations would be painful, even with the potion, that they would be draining and exhausting. But he hadn’t expressed his worries to anyone, even his friends, because he knew that they’d be twice as concerned as he was. And there was nothing he hated more than seeing his friends worried or unhappy.

“Ted, you’re a brave boy,” Madame Patil told him as she pressed the knot on the Whomping Willow. “A very brave boy indeed. I hope your transformation goes well.”

Ted smiled. “Thanks, Madame Patil.” He started down the tunnel into the shack, then turned and looked over his shoulder. He had just seen something pink flash behind Madame Patil-- something that just so happened to be the same color as Haley’s shoes. His friends were coming, under the invisibility cloak.

Ted surveyed the interior of the shack. It was really fixed up nicely; ‘cottage’ was a better name for it than ‘shack.’ In one corner was what looked like a dog bed, surrounded with pillows-- it was where he would sleep in his wolf form. “Try and go to sleep,” his father had advised him earlier. “I know it’s hard, especially on your first transformation, but it’ll be easier to cope with in the long run if you go to sleep during the full moon.”

A clattering noise emanated from the doorway, and Ted looked up to see Haley, Emma, Ivy, and Jordan pulling off an invisibility cloak. “Whew, that was harder than it looked!” exclaimed Haley.

“Well, of course it was harder than it looked,” added Jordan flatly. “We were invisible. It didn’t look like anything.”

Ted laughed, and Ivy settled down onto one of the pillows. “Nervous?” she asked. She was very white.

“Probably less than you are,” Ted replied calmly. He swept the long fringe off of his perspiring forehead, revealing the ugly mass of scar tissue that marred his temple. At the sight of it, Ivy shuddered slightly, and Ted took the signal to flatten his hair back down again. She might have adjusted, however tentatively, to the fact that he was a werewolf, but he didn’t think she was ready quite yet to get used to his disfiguring scars.

“So, what shall we do before the moon rises?” Emma asked, casually kicking off her shoes and taking off her jacket. “Veritaserum or Imperius?” This sounded like an odd question, but to her friends, it made perfect sense. ‘Veritaserum or Imperius’ simply meant ‘Truth or Dare.’

Jordan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “We can’t make too much noise, or the people in Hogsmeade will hear us-- remember, they think that the ‘ghosts’ left the shack years ago.”

“True.” Haley pondered for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Ghost stories!” she proclaimed.

Ted thought that the last thing Ivy needed was a good scare, but he didn’t say anything. He simply sat back and listened raptly to Haley’s tale of the headless lady who was doomed to wander the streets of London looking for her lost skull, which wasn’t buried with her body.

Several minutes later, Haley was at the most exciting part of the tale-- the ghost was going to finally get revenge on her still-alive husband, who had stolen her skull-- and everyone was watching her closely. (Haley, not the ghost.) A chink of silvery light shone through the window, illuminating her face and shadowing it, making her appear eerie and ghostlike.

Silvery light… the moon… Without a warning, Ted’s body tensed up, and he felt as though he’d been struck with the full body bind.

He fell helplessly onto all fours as white hot pain filled his whole body, burning as though he were on fire. He felt his bones snapping, stretching, growing, and his face and body shifting. His ears were migrating to the top of his head, and his nose and mouth were elongating into a muzzle. His teeth were growing and sharpening, and he tasted blood in his mouth when a newly pointed canine cut into his tongue.

What felt like needles were puncturing, bursting through his skin, and he knew that coarse wiry hair was covering his body. His insides twisted and contorted, and his whole body quivered and shook uncontrollably, and just then, something very strange happened within him. It was as though there was another person inside him along with the real Ted Lupin-- or rather, another animal, as the thoughts and feelings didn’t seem quite human.

“The wolf,” he thought through his pain and panic. “It’s the wolf inside me…but Dad said with the potion, I can control myself.” There seemed to be a sudden driving hunger in the pit of his belly, a hunger for flesh, but he ignored it; he was distracted by the sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall.

There was a shaggy light brown wolf crouched shuddering on the floor. No longer a pup, but not yet full grown, it had sharp yellow fangs and curved sturdy claws. Ted stared blankly for a moment, refusing to believe that the wolf in the mirror was really him. There was no way that he, human all of the first fourteen years of his life, could have become that animal in the mirror in just a few minutes. The only sign of Ted left in the creature was the eyes. They were the same soft light blue as always, and something about them seemed unmistakably human.

Nobody spoke at all. His friends’ pale, shocked faces were reflected behind him in the mirror, and Ted felt the need to comfort them-- this was all wrong, they couldn’t be frightened of him. “I’m okay, I’m still me,” he tried to say, but all that came out was a bloodcurdling, inhuman howl.

Ivy clutched onto Jordan, the person nearest to her, her eyes shining with tears and her cheeks bloodless. Ted felt strangely jealous; it was usually he to whom Ivy turned for protection and security, and to have Ivy look to Jordan for protection against Ted was disconcerting.

Jordan himself, who normally hated being touched by anyone, did not push his adopted sister away, but stared straight ahead. Haley was wide-eyed and looked as though she was certain she was simply having a nightmare, and Emma’s long curtain of wavy hair covered her face entirely.

“I am Ted,” Ted thought furiously. This was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I am Theodore Oliver Lupin. I’m a fourteen year old boy, a wizard. My best friends are Ivy, Jordan, Haley, and Emma. My parents are Remus and Nymphadora Lupin.” Reciting these simple facts brought humanity back to him, made him feel more like a person. “I am in Gryffindor. My favorite color is blue. My favorite sweets are fizzing whizbees. I love to draw cartoons and cook. ”

It was too much-- he had to sleep, follow his father’s advice. He maneuvered toward the dog bed, Jordan and Ivy shrinking back away from him as he passed them.

“I’m your friend,” he thought with a twinge of sadness. Ivy had promised him in the hospital wing that she would never be scared of him, but she certainly looked it. “Don’t you get it? I’m not a monster.”

He walked around the dog bed, but it didn’t smell like his territory somehow. It smelled of animal, not of human, and he wanted to be reminded of the fact that inside his monster’s body, he was really just a boy after all.

Instead, he walked toward Ivy, stopping directly in front of her. She gasped and thrust out her hands to protect her face, fear written across her nervous and pinched features. Ted hesitated, then stuck out his flexible pink wolf’s tongue and licked the outstretched palms. It was, he knew, an extremely weird thing to do, but in a wolf’s body, hugs were out of the question, and this was the closest thing he could think of.

He then bounced around her in a circle and wagged his shaggy tail, panting like a big dog. Ivy smiled through her tears and petted him behind the ears. It felt good, and his body relaxed.

Ted crouched down and put his head into Ivy’s lap, curling his wolf’s body around the pillow on which she sat. She smelled of clean cotton and orange soap, he thought, before he succumbed to his fatigue and falling asleep where he was.

* * * * * *

Ivy didn’t dare move. This would be the typical reaction of someone who has a werewolf sleeping in her lap. “I have a werewolf sleeping in my lap,” she thought over and over again, though it still wouldn’t register. She had to keep telling herself because she frankly couldn’t believe it was true-- she couldn’t believe that the shaggy beast was actually Ted, the sweet, kind Ted she’d known so well for over three years.

And yet, she could tell now that he wasn’t all wolf. The eyes-- they were still Ted’s same soft blue eyes; and then there was the way that he’d acted happy and playful when he’d noticed that she was scared.

Stroking his soft fur gently, she wondered what he was dreaming of at the moment, and whether he was a person or a wolf in those dreams.

* * * * * *

Ted woke up next morning in the hospital wing. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his fists. Human fists. He blinked for a moment, then grinned--he’d never thought he’d be so happy to see his own hands before.

His whole body felt sore and achy, his head was heavy, and he felt weak and tired to boot. He knew that this was to be expected, that his bones and muscles would be strained from changing shape and back again so quickly, but it came as a shock to him how real and hard it was.

Ah, he thought. So that’s what a hangover is.

Madame Patil hovered over him, pressing a cool cloth to his sweaty face and pouring a bottle of glutinous purple potion into a glass. Bright gold sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the premature worry lines on the healer’s face. “Here, drink this,” she said softly, handing the purple goop to Ted. “It’s a tonic that’ll boost your strength and ease the aching.”

Ted did so. The potion tasted faintly of orange, and he was reminded of Ivy. “Madame Patil, should I go to class today?” he asked.

She shook her head, and the long black plait she wore danced down her back. “It’s nearly lunchtime already,” she told him. “Your friends came to visit you this morning, but as you weren’t awake yet, I let them leave your sweets and things here with me. Oh, and my nephew and your friend Miss Weasley made you this get-well card.”

The card was extremely poorly drawn. Ted loved it. “I’m surprised that Tyrone and Emma got together to make this,” he commented. “They haven’t talked to each other since October, far as I know.”

Madame Patil squinted. “What do you mean? Tyrone said that he and Emma do peer counseling together every other week.”

Ted arched an eyebrow, then automatically ducked, half expecting Haley to charge into the room and bop him in the head. “He hasn’t been going,” he explained simply.

Madame Patil pursed her lips. “He’s been lying to me all this time, then? I don’t believe the nerve of that boy!” She continued muttering to herself for a bit. Ted had an ominous feeling that this wasn’t the last he’d hear of it.

* * * * * *

Emma was supposed to go into an unused classroom for peer counseling every other Tuesday night, but she knew that Tyrone wouldn’t show up. Still, it was her duty to be there, so she and Jordan (who was the only one of the five friends not involved in peer counseling) usually hung out and did their homework together.

However, tonight was different. At precisely seven o’clock, the time when peer counseling was supposed to start, the door swung open, and who should come in but Tyrone Thomas.

“Thomas? What are you doing here?” Emma asked roughly.

“Well, let’s see. Peer counseling starts here at seven o’ clock…ooh, what do you think I’m doing here?” Tyrone replied, and sat down. His posture, Emma couldn’t help but notice, was irritatingly good. He made the act of sitting in a chair look weirdly graceful.

“Yeah? You never came before, and I think we were all happy with that system.”

In truth, it was a bit disconcerting to have Tyrone not showing off to impress Emma every two seconds. She’d been so used to it that it was rather unsettling to have him never even speak to her at all.

“M’aunt made me come here when she found out that I hadn’t been coming,” Tyrone responded, barely moving his lips. “So let’s get this over with. I came to peer counseling because Malfoy killed my mum, okay? Happy? Can I go now?”

Emma was speechless. Tyrone was never like this. He always seemed so exuberant, so confident. And he was always smiling, always showing off those perfect white teeth of his. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him showing anything close to anger before.

“How’d she find out?” was all that came out of her mouth as she tried to rummage around in her brain for something to say.

“Ted,” answered Tyrone. “Not his fault, of course�”Ted’s cool, he’d never snitch on anyone. But when he got the ‘get well’ card, he said something about how surprised he was that we got together to make it, and--”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Emma. “I told Jordan to give you the card to give to your aunt so she could give it to Ted. I made the card. You didn’t do anything! What did you tell Madame Patil, that we made it together during peer counseling?”

“Er, actually…”

“Don’t answer that. Well,” Emma unrolled a sheaf of parchment. “Peer counseling. Right. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….” She scanned the parchment for clues as to what to do.

“I said I’d come here,” Tyrone said stiffly. “I never said anything about actually doing anything. So, bye, Weasley.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

Tyrone turned around, his hand on the doorknob, a confused expression on his face.

“For leaving,” Emma clarified.

“Any time.” Tyrone smiled sardonically and strode out into the hall, taking care to slam the door behind him.

* * * * * *

Ted’s owl, Zsa Zsa, drifted through the window and alighted on his bedside table. This was odd; Zsa Zsa usually came in the morning post rush with most of the other owls, not in the evening. She bore a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper, which Ted untied from her leg and unwrapped curiously.

It was a box of silver bullets. And written on a scrap of parchment in blood red ink was, ‘YOUR FUTURE.’

The first week of February was frigid and rainy, bringing with it almost daily death reports in the Daily Prophet. Naturally, the imminent Valentines’ Day Ball was less of an event than it had been in previous years, but as it was the thirteenth of February already, everyone seemed to be discussing the dance.

Haley and Jordan stumbled into the Common Room, the latter looking embarrassed yet smug, and the former laughing like a loon.

“What’s up?” Ted asked warily.

“Oh, nothing,” Haley giggled. “Jordan’s just GOT HIMSELF A DATE TO THE BALL, THAT’S ALL!”

Emma nearly fell out of her chair. “JORDAN Jordan?”

“Jordan Jordan,” Jordan clarified flatly.

Ivy smiled. This was certainly unexpected. “Who is it?” she wanted to know.

“Antonia Carville!” Haley squealed.

“Antonia Carville?” Emma’s jaw threatened to become friendly with the floor. “Ravenclaw fifth year? Blonde? Squeaky voice? Went out with Tyrone Thomas last year? I threatened her with murder at Kings’ Cross in September?”

“That’d be her,” Jordan affirmed.

“It was really weird!” Haley exclaimed. “So we were in the hall, right? And we see these two fifth years in front of us�”Antonia and that friend of hers, the one who’s dating Grant Jorgensen, I think her name is Julie or something. Jolie! That’s it, Jolie. Anyway, so Antonia was, like, ‘You know who’s cute?’ and Jolie was like, ‘Who?’ and Antonia was like, ‘Jordan Potter!’ And Jolie was like, ‘The short kid with the hair?’ And Antonia was all, ‘Yeah, what a beast. Smart, too. And did you see him sing in that play last year?’ And Jolie was like, ‘Oh, yeah, and he’s good at Quidditch,’ and Antonia was like, ‘Good? He’s fantastic!’ And I had to laugh, so Antonia and Jolie turned around and they saw me and Jordan, so Antonia, she was all embarrassed, and then she asked Jordan to the dance right there in the hallway, and he said, ‘yeah, all right,’ so now he’s going to the dance with her!” She took a deep breath, her first in a bit.

“Jordan’s not the only one here who’s ‘a beast’ and ‘fantastic,’” commented Ted with a mock pout, holding up his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. “Look, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Werewolves are on page 41!” The others laughed at this, and Emma pressed on with the subject of Jordan’s date.

“Still-- wow-- I can’t believe Jordan’s the first one of us to get asked to the dance!” she exclaimed.

“Actually, he’s not,” Ted said softly.

“What?” Ivy looked confused.

“Well, Isadora Dalton asked me earlier today,” he explained, and Ivy’s expression became strangely closed. Isadora had been the Hufflepuff girl who had asked Harry the ‘boxers or briefs’ question.

“But I’m not going with her,” he continued. “I had to turn her down, because, well…” He swallowed, causing his newly protuberant Adam’s apple to bob in his throat. “You see… I wanted to go with you, Ivy. That is, supposing the thought of that doesn’t make you too sick?” He didn’t know why he was so nervous. You’d think that after sleeping in someone’s lap in wolf form, it wouldn’t be too difficult to ask her to a dance.

Ivy smiled. “Of course I’d like to go with you,” she told him, and Haley and Emma giggled conspicuously and chorused, ‘awww.’ Haley did a very good job of embarrassing Ivy by drawing heart symbols in the air and making kissy faces behind Ted’s back.

“Yeah, I think I’m going with Jonas-- the boy I peer-counsel,” Haley mentioned after she was done being ridiculous. “He’s cute, and he’s a fifth year Gryffindor prefect. Anyway, the reason why he goes to peer-counseling is because his older brother, Judas, he joined the Overseers, but he got caught and chucked into Azkaban. What about you, Emma?”

Emma looked startled. “What do you mean by ‘what about you, Emma?’ If you’re asking if I have a brother in Azkaban, the answer is no.”

“No, dum-dum. Who are you going to the dance with?” laughed Haley.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know I never take a date. It takes all of the fun out of life.”

They continued to happily discuss who was going to the dance with whom for the next several minutes. Valentines’ Day was an even bigger event for them than it was for most people because it was also Haley and Jordan’s birthday.

Haley had always loved having her birthday on Valentines’ Day for the same reason that Jordan loathed it, (namely, it was pink, fluffy, and romantic) and she and Emma were in the middle of putting finishing touches on a valentine. But not just any valentine. It was addressed to Headmistress McGonagall and signed, ‘a secret admirer,’ and it sang a terribly mushy love song of their own composition… in Professor Zabini’s voice.

Just then, Tyrone Thomas climbed through the portrait hole and strode over to where the friends were sitting. “Hey,” he greeted them, though managing not to look at Emma. “What’s up?”

“We’re sending a valentine to McGonagall that sings a love song in Zabini’s voice,” Haley explained cheerfully.

“Cool,” Tyrone complimented her. “Speaking of Valentines’ Day, the ball’s tomorrow. D’you want to go with me, Potter?”

“Um…” Haley began thoughtfully.

Tyrone flashed his white teeth in his customary grin. “No, I meant Blondie Potter. Not like you’re not cool, Haley, but I meant your sister.” He smiled at Ivy. “You’ve looked kind of down lately. I thought you might want to go to the dance with me, have some fun and get your mind off of things.”

Ivy looked up, mildly surprised. She had noticed that Tyrone had been one of the first to take to calling her ‘Potter’ after she was adopted, but she’d never known him very well. “That sounds really nice, Thomas, but I’ve already got a date,” she told him meekly.

Tyrone looked unfazed. “All right, then. Maybe some other time. Who’s the lucky bloke, by the way?”

“Ted,” Ivy replied, gesturing toward him without quite managing to conceal a smile.

“I should’ve guessed.” Tyrone grinned again. “Well, see you there tomorrow night, Blondie Potter, Crazy Potter, Bloke Potter, Lupin.” And with that, he strutted off to find another available girl-- not that he’d have a problem with that. In fact, he had a veritable fan club, a fact of which he was very aware.

“Wow,” noted Ted. “Now all of you girls have been asked to a ball by Tyrone.”

“Except for Jordan,” joked Emma, and her cousin rolled his eyes.

The previous year’s ball had been fun for everyone. Ted and Ivy had danced together for one of the songs, Haley had gone ‘as friends’ with Tyrone, and although Emma had turned down all offers to dance, she and Tyrone had done a tap-dance number together during a slow-dance number (it was a very, very long story… and even Emma wasn’t quite sure what the reason behind this strange exhibition was). Although Jordan hadn’t had a date, he had charmed a punch bowl to explode all over Ophidias Malfoy as he tried to ladle punch from it in revenge for attacking Ted in the corridor earlier in the year.

They all hoped that this year’s ball would be equally full of surprises, and in a way, they were right. But these surprises were not all good ones.

* * * * *

“The attacks have all been in Scotland for awhile now,” Ron noted during a weekend meeting.

Harry frowned. “I noticed that, too,” he mentioned. “And to tell you the truth, I was actually rather surprised that he hasn’t come by Hogwarts yet.” He shifted in his seat. “On a lighter note, Haley and Jordan are having their birthday tomorrow.”

Ron slapped himself upside the head. “That’s right! Oh, I knew I was forgetting something-- I haven’t got a present for either of them! With all of this Malfoy business…”

Harry nodded understandingly. “I know. It’s all that’s on anyone’s mind anymore. When was the last time you went a day without worrying about Malfoy? I remember how upset Ginny was when Jonathan said his first word last month.”

“Malfoy,” the two men said in unison, then sat back in their chairs.

“So,” said Ron, changing the subject. “That ball thing’s tomorrow, right? Should be fun.”

“Yeah, for the kids,” replied Harry. “It was nice of Ted to ask Ivy to dance-- it’s always good to see her happy.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “You’re not dancing?” he asked. “You can borrow Hermione if you need a partner.”

Harry laughed, imagining the look that would have appeared on feminist Hermione’s face had she heard Ron offering to let Harry ‘borrow’ her. “No, thanks,” he answered. “You’d think after knowing me for nearly thirty years, you’d have realized that I can’t dance to save my life! Remember that ball we had to go to in our fourth year, when I went with Parvati and you had those horrible lacy robes?” Just saying the name ‘Parvati’ forced him to swallow hard. He’d forgotten for a moment that she’d been murdered.

Ron, however, hadn’t seemed to notice. “Yeah, how could I forget? Hermione went with Krum, and I was mad at her,” he recalled. “’Course, Hermione only went with Krum because he asked her first, I suppose, the git.”

“The git? I thought that you’d got over your grudge since he died,” Harry remarked.

Ron shrugged. “Not particularly. Remember I kept sniggering during the funeral?” He had a rather unsettling habit of making light of death that had always bothered Harry slightly.

“You weren’t sniggering, you were trying not to cry,” Harry reminded him.

“No, I was sniggering!” protested Ron. “I should know; I was the one doing it!”

“You were trying not to cry,” argued Harry.

Hermione stuck her head into the room. “Ron, you know perfectly well that you were trying not to cry,” she informed her husband. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he admitted.

* * * * *

“Beauty is 50% natural and 50% painful,” Emma informed Haley, whose scalp was aching from the multiple of pins already holding her hairdo together she was wearing. It was the next day, and the girls were preparing themselves for the ball, which would start in fifteen minutes.

Emma inserted one last bobby pin into her hair. “Right,” she announced. “I say we’re ready to go. Shall we look in the mirror?” The two other girls got up from where they were sitting and stood next to their friends, examining their reflections in the mirror.

“We’re a good-looking bunch,” commented Haley, and indeed, they all looked lovely in their ball finery.

Emma had on robes of chocolate brown velvet with long flowing sleeves, gold trim, and a gold belt; and Haley looked older than usual in her sleekly cut robes of pale pink silk, which were edged with sparkly silver.

But Ivy in particular looked noticeably different from usual. She normally wore simple and conservative clothing, but today, she had allowed herself to dress up in satiny silver dress robes. But the real change was her hair. Not even Haley or Emma had ever seen her without her white-blonde hair in a tight braid gathered at the nape of her neck, but today, her hair was down. It flowed past her waist, held back with a silver ribbon.

“Should we go see if the boys are ready yet?” asked Ivy, straightening her robes.

Haley laughed. “Are you kidding? They were probably ready over an hour ago. After all, they’re not the ones who have to mess around with hair and makeup. Well, most of them, I’m not vouching for Tyrone Thomas.” She linked arms with her sister and her cousin. “Let’s go, then.”

Sure enough, when they reached the Common Room, Ted and Jordan were already sitting in armchairs, looking bored. Ted straightened up first. “Hi,” he greeted the girls. “Well, at least I can see why it took you such a long time to get ready. You look nice.”

Ivy blushed, proving the point she had made earlier to Haley that the application makeup was pointless, as she was just going to blush as soon as she saw Ted anyway. “Thanks, you too,” she replied.

Ted did look rather good in his light blue robes, as did Jordan; his robes were dark green and he had combed gel into his hair that he appeared to have borrowed from Tyrone. It still looked as though he had been through a tornado recently, but the gel made it look like it was that way on purpose.

“I love the hair, Jordy,” noted Emma. “You look like a boy band member.”

“Er, thank you?” muttered Jordan. He wasn’t sure whether or not this was a compliment. He checked his watch. “Well… let’s go, then…” He looked slightly green, matching his robes nicely. Haley nudged Emma and pointed this fact out, trying not to dissolve into giggles.

The five of them set off down the stairs and over to the Great Hall. Haley found her date, Jonas, at once and split off from the group with a cheery wave, heading toward the long banquet table at which they would eat a feast before the ball. The Great Hall was lavishly decorated for Valentines’ Day, full of fairy lights and floating heart-shaped sparks, and a band called Toilet Dragons was setting up on stage.

“Jordan, I see Antonia,” whispered Ivy, pointing her brother toward his date.

Antonia had on kelly green robes that complemented his dark green ones perfectly, and her curly blonde hair was secured atop her head with a beaded pearl comb. The two of them looked like a pair of Slytherins in their green finery, but Ivy didn’t point this out. Jordan’s mouth did something very odd-- it was as though he wanted to smile but his lips wanted to grimace-- and he and Antonia found a seat.

“I may not like Antonia much, but she beats his date from last year,” Emma whispered to Ivy in a low voice. “A book!”

Just then, Tyrone Thomas breezed by, arm in arm with Isadora Dalton. Tyrone looked like someone out of a catalogue advertising the creamy ivory robes that he was wearing, and Isadora looked as though she had been ordered out of the same catalogue as a cute accessory. This was the norm with Tyrone and his dates. “Lupin! Potter! Nice to see you!” He greeted them. “I’d sit with you, but, you know, extenuating circumstances.” He looked straight at Emma as he pronounced the last two words, then sauntered off toward the far end of the table.

“Well, at least there’s still one jerk less than usual here,” Emma noted lightly. “Ophidias isn’t here, far as I can tell.” It was true-- the tall, blond Slytherin prefect was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s odd,” remarked Ivy. “You’d think he’d be here with that girlfriend of his, Charybdis Nott, causing as much trouble as possible.”

“Jordan will be crushed,” added Emma. “He won’t have anyone to dump a punch bowl on this year. I mean, there’s Thomas, but I mustn’t get my hopes up.”

They found seats at the banquet table. The meal passed by pleasantly enough, though Ted and Ivy were perhaps a tiny bit shyer around each other than usual. When the food was cleared up, it was time for the opening dance.

Haley and Jonas were among the first couples on the dance floor, dancing like maniacs. Tyrone and Isadora were nearby, and it had to be admitted that Tyrone’s gracefulness was not limited to steering a broom�”he moved very smoothly. Jordan and Antonia joined in a little while later, though the former appeared extremely nervous and almost as awkward.

Ted looked expectantly at Ivy. “Well, er, would you like to dance, then?” he asked, wishing that his voice hadn’t cracked so horribly on the word ‘dance.’

“Erm, all right,” Ivy replied, wishing that she wasn’t blushing such a deep crimson. Neither of them was a particularly good dancer, but it didn’t matter-- they were just happy about being able to be there, carefree, dancing with each other.

Ted placed his hand on Ivy’s waist and she rested hers on his shoulder. Ted had grown so much over the summer and the course of the school year that he now towered about half a foot over his dance partner, though they’d been roughly the same height the previous year.

They faced each other and began to dance, the werewolf and the murderer’s daughter on the dance floor together, not dwelling on their problems, but reveling in their joys.

* * * * *

Emma was not happy. A second year vomited on her shoe halfway through the ball, and during one of her favorite songs, too. To make matters worse, most of the teachers at the staff table were without their wands, and therefore unequipped to clean up the mess left by the vomiting second year.

Headmistress McGonagall, surveying the students over her square spectacles, stated, “Weasley, Thomas, could you please go get Mr. Gauge to clean this up?” (Andreas Gauge was the school’s rather reclusive caretaker. He was rarely seen, preferring to do his work in the night after students were in bed, and nobody complained about this.)

Emma looked desperately around her, hoping that by ‘Weasley,’ McGonagall was referring to one of her many cousins, hopefully Edwin, a sixth year boy currently doing a flamboyant dance that greatly resembled an ostrich having spasmodic seizures; she was worried more students would vomit if he kept dancing.

But no, McGonagall’s steely eyes were fixed directly upon her. She sighed theatrically and slunk out of the room, an equally reluctant-looking Tyrone in tow.

They walked in silence through the empty echoing hallways for what seemed like much more than just a few minutes-- Emma was extremely aware of the loud clacking of her high heeled sandals and of the SQUEAK of the rubber soles of Tyrone’s shiny brown shoes. As they turned the hallway toward Gauge’s office, they passed a giant plate-glass window that seemed to be overlording as much of the wall space as possible. Emma glanced briefly into the darkened glass to inspect her hair on the reflective surface, and did a double take.

Something that was a strange pale pinkish was floating in midair not far from the edge of the grounds. The pale pinkish thing rummaged around in the air for a moment, then appeared to pull back what looked like an invisible curtain, revealing a dark figure. Someone was on the grounds, someone who had just taken off an invisibility cloak.

“That’s weird,” muttered Emma, staring at the figure.

Tyrone actually skidded to a halt, though he managed to make it look smooth and graceful as always. “What, Weasley?” he asked in a short, abrupt voice that was totally different from his usual flowing tones.

“Someone just took off an invisibility cloak over there,” Emma replied, eyes still fixated on the lone figure on the grounds. She pointed her finger toward the person so that Tyrone could see.

He leaned over, inadvertently resting his elbow on her shoulder. It was lucky, Emma thought, that he didn’t have painfully pointy elbows like the Potter twins did. Tyrone seemed to have forgotten all about pretending that Emma didn’t exist-- particularly after what happened next.

Because the moon moved out from behind a cloud, illuminating the figure from behind. Long white-blond hair spilled down the man’s back, and he carried a long and ornately carved wand. Emma’s mouth grew dry and her eyes widened to the size of pie tins; she knew this man.

“Malfoy,” she breathed, sounding not unlike Ted did when his voice cracked. “Malfoy! Outside the school! I don’t believe this, how did he ever get in?”

Tyrone gaped and grabbed Emma’s wrist, attempting to pull her down the corridor with him. “Come on, let’s run and get your uncle! Hurry!”

Emma kept her feet firmly planted on the ground. “No,” she refused, and Tyrone gaped even wider.

“What, you think we should just wait here, let Malfoy get into the school, murder people? Not that you’d care, but I think that might upset some people!” he yelped, sounding slightly hysterical. Again, it was disconcerting not to see him cool and collected, though Tyrone’s behavioural habits were the last thing on Emma’s mind.

Emma didn’t know what he meant by ‘not that you’d care,’ but she brushed it out of her mind for the time being. Malfoy was on the grounds! “No, you prat!” she snapped. “We don’t have time to run all the way back to the Great Hall and get a teacher! Obviously, we should send a Patronus to let them know!”

“Yeah? Terrific plan, Weasley! Only I don’t know how to conjure a Pa-bloody-tronus, that’s all!” Tyrone yelled, sounding near tears. “I mean, that’s N.E.W.T. standard!”

Emma rolled her eyes, then focused on a good memory-- she was in her third year, pranking Zabini’s potion room with Haley and Ivy, so that anyone who entered would leave considerably stickier, pricklier, gloopier, featherier, and angrier than they had been upon entering. “Expecto Patronum!” she intoned, drawing her wand. A giant silver tiger erupted from the end of her wand, racing silently down the hallway faster than any broomstick.

Tyrone’s face was an ominous greenish-lilac and he was now gaping so wide, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if his lower jaw fell right off. “What?” she smirked. “You don’t think I could be the niece of the head of the Order of the Phoenix and not be able to cast a Patronus? Anyway, the teachers will be here in a minute, so we can relax.”

Tyrone took one quick look out the window, then addressed the portrait of a thin, morose-looking witch. “Hey, you, scream as loud as you can until Malfoy leaves the grounds, and get as many other portraits as you can to yell, too,” he instructed.

“Let’s just stay here until the adults come,” Emma suggested over the screaming that was now echoing down the hall.

“Yeah,” Tyrone replied in a would-be-calm manner. But Emma noticed that his voice was rather higher than usual. She was frightened, too, but she didn’t dare betray any signs of fear. Everyone knew that Emma Weasley was practically fearless.

* * * * *

Ivy and Ted had been having a great time at the dance when suddenly, most of the people near the door gasped and stopped dancing.

“I wonder what…” Ted began, when suddenly, a giant silver tiger came streaking into the room. Many of the students, who were apparently under the impression that it was part of the enchanted decorative scheme, laughed and continued to dance, but Ivy stopped abruptly, crashing into Ted’s shoulder.

“Emma’s Patronus,” she breathed as the tiger lollopped across the stage over to Professor Potter.

The Potter twins and their respective partners had stopped dancing now, too, and were watching wide-eyed as their father’s face paled considerably and he whispered something to Hermione and Professor Longbottom. He was over to the nearest window in several long strides, and he quickly fired a Patronus outside-- all of this done nicely inconspicuously, with the sort of stealth picked up from Auror training.

What wasn’t was Professor McGonagall’s tight-lipped announcement: “Prefects, please lead younger students to their Common Rooms. The ball is over. Do not leave your respective Common Room unless you wish to be expelled from Hogwarts.”

“Right-o then, everybody follow me!” called out Edwin Weasley, a sixth year Gryffindor prefect-- he seemed to be forgetting that there were other, older prefects. “No need to be afraid, come with me, everyone! Gryffindors, over here, Ravenclaws, come over this way…”

“I believe I’m Head Boy,” a tall, weedy seventh year informed him stiffly.

“Yeah, but I have more charisma!” replied Edwin breezily, and he led the procession upward, twirling his wand like a majorette’s baton.

Only Ivy, Ted, Haley, and Jordan seemed to realize how serious the situation was, and they sat clustered around the fire, curled up on squashy ottomans. “Emma’s still not back,” Haley noted nervously. “Maybe Gauge went psycho and tried to do her in.” She paused thoughtfully. “Thomas was with her. Maybe Gauge did him in.”

“Or maybe Tyrone tried to do her in,” Jordan supplied.

“What a cheerful conversation this is,” Ted remarked lightly, though he looked very nervous himself.

Ivy straightened her hair ribbon, which was askew. “I don’t think the problem is Gauge or Thomas,” she said in a low voice. Everyone stared at her, and she continued. “Think about it. What else would make us all have to go to Gryffindor Tower? Malfoy’s here, he got onto the grounds. I know it.” She looked extremely glum, and the tight, pinched expression that all too frequently found its way onto her face had returned.

At that moment, the door to the Common Room opened, and Emma and Tyrone stumbled in. Emma was very white and her freckles showed up more than usual, but her jaw was set and her eyes looked steady and confident. Tyrone’s face was tinged with an odd greenish-lilac, and his mouth was tightly clamped shut, apparently to keep it from trembling.

Emma collapsed heavily into an armchair next to Haley’s ottoman and announced, without preamble, “Malfoy got onto the school grounds.” These words had impact. Ivy’s face grew even tighter and her eyes were suddenly shining with tears, Jordan paled and swallowed a cold and bitter lump in his throat not unlike mustard-flavored ice cream, Ted gasped, and Haley gave a frightened squeak and toppled right off the back of her ottoman.

“Did they catch him?” Ted wanted to know, his voice cracking horribly. He sometimes envied Jordan, whose voice had changed seemingly overnight halfway through their second year, but right now, he had more important things on his mind than vocal malfunctions.

Emma shrugged. “No clue,” she replied. “My dad-- he’s here, most of the Aurors are-- sent me off as soon as he got there. He didn’t even thank me for sending out an alert.”

“So Malfoy could still get into the castle?” Jordan asked, grim-faced. Emma hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

At that exact second, the door opened yet again, and Emma’s father, Haley’s father, and Emma’s mother entered the room. “Everybody, please be quiet!” commanded Hermione, but there was no need. Just the presence of these three together had silenced the room. “This is Ronald Weasley, acting Head Auror for the Ministry,” she presented her husband. “He has something very important to tell you, so I advise you all to listen closely.”

The room was silent-- you could have heard a pin drop into a haystack and be able to locate it solely by following the sound-- and not even the two random girls who often screamed ‘Ronald Weasley!’ at the sound of his name made a single noise.

“Draco Malfoy got into the school grounds,” Ron stated in a low voice. There were collective gasps and shrieks. Up close, Emma noticed that her father had dark circles under his eyes and looked thinner than usual-- this Malfoy business was obviously stressing him out in the Auror office.

“We chased him away before he got into the school, but he disappeared before we could catch him. We can’t station dementors to guard the school because they’re in league with Malfoy now, but the Headmistress, Professor Potter, and I decided that the Head Boy, Head Girl, and each house’s prefects should be stationed at the entrances into all of the secret passages in and out of the school. And there will always be at least two Aurors on the grounds. You have nothing to worry about, but the Headmistress asks that you always return to your dormitories by 6:30 and only walk across the grounds when accompanied by a teacher and at least three classmates. Now you’re probably all worked up, but please go to bed because according to Professor Granger-Weasley here, you have quite a difficult Transfiguration test ahead of you tomorrow.” And with that, he and Harry left the room, as well as most of the students, who got up to go to their dormitories.

Hermione remained behind, “Emma, Mr. Thomas, could you please come here?” she requested, always businesslike at Hogwarts, even when speaking to her own daughter.

“She’s probably going to yell at us for risking our lives and junk,” Emma muttered darkly to Jordan. “Yeah, Mum, completely unlike you would have done-- I’m sure you were perfectly safe fighting Voldemort!”

She slunched back over to the other side of the room and sat down on her armchair again, and Tyrone found the armchair that he had claimed as ‘his’ in his first year. Hermione settled herself onto a sofa. “Both of you were very brave today,” she told them, “and it took some quick thinking to use the Patronus charm--”

“That was Weasley,” Tyrone interjected, shocking Emma slightly. He normally pretended she didn’t exist these days.

“-- and telling the portraits to call for help,” Hermione continued.

“That was Thomas,” Emma told her, returning the favor.

“Well, I am going to award forty points to Gryffindor for this. And…” Emma’s mother lowered her voice. “Don’t go spreading this around, but, you know, if you hadn’t done that, things could have been worse, much worse. Well, good night.” And with that, she strode briskly from the room.

Emma looked at Tyrone. “Hey, er, not to bother you or anything,” she said stiffly, “but I was just curious, what was that you said back there, about ‘not that you’d care if Malfoy got into the school and murdered your friends?” She tried to keep her voice light and casual.

Tyrone’s handsome face grew cold and distant. “Well, you think the whole Malfoy thing is some kind of a big joke, don’t you? You think it’s funny that he’s been killing off people and doing all sorts of horrible dark magic, just because he hasn’t killed anyone in your family yet. That’s why you’re such a lousy peer counselor. Haley was mad to sign you up.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to gape like a deranged codfish. “What? Are you crazy? Because of Malfoy, Ivy’s depressed all the time. Because of Malfoy, Ted’s a werewolf! Malfoy blew up St. Mungo’s because he wanted to kill my dad, Thomas! You think I don’t care? I just don’t want to be a wimp like some people! I am in Gryffindor after all!” she shouted.

“Well, that sure isn’t what it seemed like to me!” yelled Tyrone. “You’re always, like, ‘Oh, ha ha, Tyrone’s mum got blown up, is that lovely or what?’ Well, it’s NOT!”

There was a terrible silence. Emma blinked slowly. “Oh, Tyrone,” she breathed. “Tyrone, I’m sorry.” She had never seen things this way before, never thought her one little comment would upset the unfazable Tyrone Thomas so. She’d never used his first name before--it had always been ‘Thomas,’ but she associated that name with his strutting and preening public persona, not the boy who now sat before her.

“About time you apologized,” Tyrone replied miserably, and Emma felt dreadfully sorry all of a sudden. He looked so diminished, so different from the bold, vibrant person that he normally seemed to be. Slumped over in his armchair like this, he seemed vulnerable and pathetic.

Emma gave him a quick, light hug, then walked off toward the girls’ dormitory. “G’night, Tyrone,” she called over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, or if Tyrone’s expression had just brightened slightly.

Malfoy did not go into hiding after being sighted near Hogwarts. In fact, just a week after Valentine’s Day, he had gone and blown up half a street of Muggle houses, and shortly after that, two Overseers were thrown into Azkaban for attempted break-in of the Auror office.

Nobody had trouble guessing why the Auror office-- with Ron Weasley acting as Head Auror, it would be extremely easy to find him, Malfoy’s main target. But it was also rather stupid, because the place was full of Aurors, ready to capture any Overseers they found. The Auror forces hadn’t even needed to be summoned to the scene of the crime!

People rarely spoke of ‘Draco Malfoy’ anymore. It was now much more common to hear people discussing “The Dark Master” or even “You-Know-Who.”

“They’re not even saying his name anymore!” exclaimed Haley. “It’s like Voldemort. Dad says people were afraid to say ‘Voldemort,’ too, until he snuffed it.”

“Yeah-- watch this.” Emma leaned over toward a passing first year. “MALFOY!” she hollered into his ear. The boy jumped and made a horrible squealing sound like Ted trying to sing, and Emma chortled.

Ivy’s face was thoughtful as she remarked, “Really, it’s just like when our parents were at school, only--”

“Only there’s no ‘Chosen One’ to save the day,” Jordan finished up, and everyone stared at him. He sighed.

How could they not understand what he meant? When his father had been in school, he’d been the ubiquitous saver-of-the-day. Got a malevolent dark lord running around, inconveniencing you by murdering people and being a generally nasty racial supremacist? Harry Potter will dispense of him. Got to save an all-purpose magical amulet from an evil formerly dead immortal wannabe? Harry Potter will do it for you. Got to locate a previously undiscovered part of the school, slay a fifty-foot serpent, and save the school from being destroyed by the memory of the same evil formerly dead immortal wannabe? Harry Potter will do it in his spare time. And any time anyone needed a few lives saved or some general evil to fight, Harry Potter would always make everything right. Nobody had to worry about doing the dirty work for themselves, because they had Harry Potter.

There weren’t any kids like that at Hogwarts today. Jordan looked around the Common Room, where he sat with his friends, surveying the other students there. He couldn’t imagine any of them destined to be ‘The Chosen One.’ Scattered around the room were a few miscellaneous giggly girls, some Quidditch jocks, some so-called ‘tortured artists’ whatever that meant, some swots, some slackers, the ever-popular Tyrone Thomas and his entourage of friends and admirers. He could sort all of them into little boxes, in three words or less. None of them were your archetypal hero.

And who was he, Jordan James Potter? An odd little nerd, a misfit who had barely even made it into Gryffindor, that was who. He remembered his sorting all too clearly.

Tiny, eleven-year-old Jordan stood in the Great Hall, watching with increasing apprehension as his future classmates put on the Sorting Hat. There were less and less students left to be sorted now, and he could feel the hundreds of eyes of the students in the Great Hall on the back of his neck.

“Malfoy, Ivy,” Professor Granger-Weasley called out, and a pale, nervous-looking girl with a long blonde braid and a pinched expression stumbled up toward the hat. Jordan thought, ‘A Slytherin, of course,’ with a vehement certainty; everyone knew that there was no such thing as a good Malfoy.

Or was there? Because after about ten seconds�”shorter even than it had taken to sort Ted-- the hat had proclaimed, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Jordan was as shocked as everyone else. And ‘everyone else’ seemed to be whispering amongst themselves as Ivy took a seat at the Gryffindor table, a look of disbelieving joy on her thin and pointed face.

After “Nott, Charybdis,” became a Slytherin, and “Paterson, Paul” was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor Granger-Weasley called, “Potter, Harriet-Lily”

“Potter? Did she say Potter?”

“Harry Potter’s kid?”

“No doubt she’s a Gryffindor!”

There were assorted excited murmurs as Haley actually skipped over to the stool, sat on it, and slipped the hat onto her head. It had barely brushed against her shiny black hair when it yelled, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Jordan applauded for his sister along with everyone else as she jumped up from the chair and made a noise best described as a ‘squee!’, then suddenly realized, feeling sick to his stomach, that it was his turn next.

“Potter, Jordan!” Professor Granger-Weasley called.

“Another Potter?”

“Awww, look, he’s got messy hair and glasses, just like Harry Potter! Isn’t he cute?”

“With these two, Gryffindor’s going to win the House Cup for sure this year!”

Jordan’s knees buckled suddenly, and he had stumbled toward the stage, collapsing onto the stool. A little voice spoke inside his head, startling him so much that he almost fell sideways off the stool.

“Hmmm, this is an interesting case. A very interesting case. Very intelligent… unusually so, in fact, but I don’t think Ravenclaw would suit you. Hardworking, but Hufflepuff isn’t right, either. Hmmm, cunning, resourceful, secretive, a thirst for power and to be noticed, and, oh my, a Parselmouth? You’re one to make even Salazar Slytherin proud, you are. I say you’re a--”

“No! Not Slytherin! Please, I can’t be in Slytherin!” Jordan thought frantically. “What would my parents say? What would the entire wizarding world say, for that matter?”

“You don’t want to be in Slytherin?” the hat’s voice enquired softly. “Unusual, you almost never see someone with such potential turn down an opportunity to be in Slytherin. But I suppose it’s not my place to put you in a house if that’s not where you want to be...”

Jordan had become very aware of the fact that he’d been on the stool for over a minute now, and that everyone was staring and whispering.

“You don’t want to stand out in your family? To be apart from everyone else? To not live in your father‘s shadow?” the hat asked.

“I… I do,” Jordan had thought, amazed at how much this hat knew about him, things that even he didn’t like to admit to himself. “But I can’t be in Slytherin! I just can’t!” He couldn’t imagine the look on his father’s face when he heard that his son had been sorted into Slytherin. Harry Potter was the ultimate Gryffindor�”there was no chance he’d understand.

“All right, then,” the hat had sighed. “I’ll take a chance and put you in… GRYFFINDOR!”

“Jordan? JORDAN? JORDAN JAMES “STINKY” POTTER!” Haley was waving her hand back and forth in front of fourth-year-again-Jordan’s face. “What’s up? We’re talking about our plans for a big prank, and you haven’t said a single thing about how dangerous and inappropriate it is. Are you all right?” It was March 31st, which meant that April Fools’ Day would be the next day, and the girls were planning a big prank, as per usual.

“Are you sure that you’re all right?” repeated Ted, looking closely at Jordan’s pale face and glassy eyes.

Jordan snapped out of his reverie and stood up, clutching his book to his chest. “Terrific. Never better,” he muttered, then slouched off to his dormitory, not that he planned to sleep anytime soon.

* * * * *

Later that day, Haley, Emma, and Ivy were holding court in the Room of Requirement. “You do realize,” announced Emma, “that we, the Maraudettes, have not yet caused any chaos, made any mischief, wreaked any havoc, or pulled any pranks, aside from a few little things we did to Zabini, and that hardly counts. The Marauders would be very displeased.”

Ivy nodded. “I know. The whole business with Malfoy is getting to everyone. We can’t think of anything else, which really isn’t very practical. I mean, having some fun will keep our minds off of it, relieve some of our stress.”

“And here to explain the reasons why breaking the rules is good for you, it’s Ivy Potter!” announced Haley in a newscaster voice, using a sugar quill for a surrogate microphone. She gazed thoughtfully down at the sugar quill for a second, then shrugged and ate it.

After a brief interlude of crunching, Haley flopped down on her back. “Well, this should be a really huge prank,” she proclaimed. “Something that people will be talking about for ages. We have to prank the Slytherins, Professor Zabini, and we might as well get Tyrone Thomas while we’re at it…”

“He’s not that bad,” noted Emma casually. Her friends stared at her in disbelief. The half-finished sugar quill flopped onto the ground as Haley’s mouth flopped open. In the distance, a cricket chirped.

“Emma, are you all right?” asked Ivy, breaking the silence. “You’ve hated Thomas since… since before we were friends! You’ve always hated him, like Haley hates Zabini! Like I hate… well, probably not as much as I hate Malfoy…” she trailed off quietly.

Emma rolled over onto her back. “Look, the night that Malfoy broke into the school, Thomas was with me. We had a sort of… talk. And he really isn’t that bad. I mean, I wouldn’t, like, want to date him or anything, but I don’t hate him anymore.” Haley and Ivy continued to stare at her, jaws dropped and eyes wide and unblinking. Emma laughed. “Come on, guys. Well, anyway, if not Tyr-- Thomas, Thomas that is, why don’t we prank Jordan? He’s the perfect target! If you ask me, he’s got to get off his high hippogriff.”

Ivy and Haley joined her in a three-way high-five, then got down to scheming for their Ultimate Four-Part Prank. But Haley was dwelling on one thing as she contributed her ideas to their plans-- Jordan. She was worried about him, and Haley, unlike Ivy, rarely worried about anything unless it was really big.

Jordan was different from how he had been before their fourth year. He’d been moody and irritable ever since he’d been about ten, that much was the same, but this year, he had changed. He barely yelled or raged anymore-- in fact, he didn’t speak much at all-- but he was always quietly unhappy. He seemed to be drifting away from his friends and was now spending hours at a time off on his own. She didn’t think she’d seen him smile once since the Valentines’ Day Ball, and that had been over a month and a half before.

Haley knew that Malfoy’s escape was upsetting everyone differently; Emma had grown fiercer than ever, Ivy was nervous and emotional, Ted had become protective and watchful. Haley, though, seemed the same insane girl as ever, if maybe a tiny bit less carefree, and she found it slightly unsettling how things were becoming now. She hadn’t even grown taller!

Jordan was different, though, there was no doubt about it. Part of her very deep down had to wonder-- could anything drive her ‘baby brother’ to lose it at last? Because she was afraid that one last annoyance might cause him to completely crack, and she hoped that she prank she was now planning wasn’t it.

* * * * *

Harry noted with some apprehension that it was March 31st. April Fools’ Day was tomorrow, and he was as sure that Haley, Emma, and Ivy would pull something as he was that the sun would rise in the east the next morning. (Unless, of course, their prank involved changing the path of the sun. He could never be sure with those three.)

He shook his head. Did Haley take anything seriously? She was the opposite of Jordan and Ivy in that aspect-- both of them seemed far too serious for someone their age at times.

Ted was another one who made light of everything. His werewolf condition, for one. Since his first transformation, he’d begun to look more and more like his father, growing thinner, paler, and more tired-looking each month, but he never once complained. Instead, he cracked jokes. Harry wondered if Ted did this to make his parents and friends (especially Ivy) feel better, or if he really was that much of an optimist. After all, Ivy had been so fragile these days, and everyone seemed to treat her as though she were spun out of glass.

“Harry?” came a voice from behind him. He turned around from his desk, where he was planning a lesson on boggarts. Standing behind him was Hermione, looking rather harassed.

“April Fools’ Day is tomorrow!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I’d noticed,” replied Harry.

Hermione sighed. “Look, you know why I’m coming to see you. Emma. You know she’s going to lead your girls in to some type of trouble, and--”

“Emma? I’d always thought that Haley was in charge, after all that’s happened to Blaise Zabini in the past several years. Or, who know, it could be Ivy who--”

“Harry, stop.” Hermione cut him off. “Anyway, they’re going to pull something. I think we should watch them extra carefully for the rest of today, to prevent… whatever it is that they’re planning.”

“I think we should go ahead and let them do whatever it is that they’re planning,” Harry supplied, and Hermione stared at him as though she had never seen him before. “Everyone is so worked up about Malfoy, a little mischief would be a welcome change,” he continued. “Especially for Ivy.”

Hermione continued to stare at him for a long moment, then stated, “Harry, you know who you’re becoming more and more like every year?”

“Who?”

“Dumbledore.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you. I try,” he said, and there was nothing sarcastic about the twinkle in his eye.

* * * * *

Jordan didn’t really need people anymore, he’d found lately. When he was with his friends, he felt annoyed that they couldn’t read his thoughts and feelings. Not that anybody could, though. His latest obsession was Occlumency and Legilimency, and he’d been reading up on it since the beginning of the school year. He’d managed to teach himself some basic Occlumency, though he didn’t have quite the sufficient power to be a Legilimens just yet.

It was strange, his relationships with his friends. Ted had been his best friend for as long as he could remember (at least, when they were little and were convinced that girls had cooties) but now you never saw Ted without Ivy, and Jordan never really seemed to have time for them, either.

Emma was always fun for a little Quidditch practice, a study session, or a little friendly hexing competition, but she was always with Haley, his obnoxious twin. And Ivy… well, she was his sister now, and he had accepted this as a fact of life, but she was so vulnerable this year. As if he wasn’t depressed enough as it was, spending time with Ivy would do it, though at least she was always good for intelligent conversation.

He pulled out his red guitar and sat down on his bed in the dormitory. One thing he really liked to do when he was sure he was completely alone was to play the guitar and sing; unbeknownst to most, Haley was not the only Potter who was a talented singer. Very few people had ever heard him sing�”most people saw him only as a slave to schoolwork who happened to be no slouch on the Quidditch field, but he liked it that way. He didn’t see why everyone in the world needed to know about him.

He strummed a few chords aimlessly, then launched into one of his personal favourite songs, one that seemed appropriate at the time.

“You say you wander your own land
But when I think about it, I don’t see how you can.
You’re aching, you’re breaking
And I can see the pain in your eyes.
Says everybody’s changing, and I don’t know why.

So little time
Try to understand that I’m
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
‘Cause --”

Jordan stopped abruptly as the door to the dormitory swung open and somebody walked inside. Not Ted, either. It was Tyrone, and Jordan quickly hid the guitar beneath the covers of his bed. He was not in the mood to be ridiculed-- he could get that from Haley and Emma if he wanted it, though he didn’t expect he ever would.

“Don’t stop just because I came in!” said Tyrone indignantly. “That was pretty good. Maybe I’ll let you play with my band sometime when I’m famous! I play bass.” He squatted down and rummaged around in his trunk, then pulled out a small bundle. “Aha! There’s Isadora’s Hufflepuff tie! She’s been looking for it since February. Right, well, if you see Emma, say ‘hi’ to her from me. Keep on playing! Bye!” And he was back out of the room in a flash.

‘Emma’ now, was it? She had always been ‘Weasley’ to Tyrone for the past four years. What was up with that?

Jordan pulled out the guitar again and sang the last line of the verse slowly.

“’Cause everybody’s changing and I don’t feel the same.”

* * * * *

“Wake up!” Haley yelled in Ivy’s ear the next morning. “Wake up, Malfoy’s got into the school somehow, and Zabini’s threatening to blow up Gryffindor Tower unless McGonagall lets Malfoy take over!” She was not one for Occam’s Razor.

Ivy sat up bolt upright immediately, her eyes flying open. “What?” she yelped.

“April Fool!” howled Haley, dissolved into a gale of mad giggles.

“That isn’t funny. That isn’t funny at all,” Ivy said quietly as she rolled out of bed.

“Yes, it is,” Emma stated as she finished running a brush through her long wavy hair. She wasn’t usually a morning person-- quite the contrary, actually-- but Ivy knew why she was so bright-eyed and cheerful. It was April Fools’ Day, one of her favorite holidays.

After Ivy dressed, the three girls headed down for breakfast. That was when the fun began.

For some odd reason, as soon as the Slytherins sat down at their house table, an unusual change took place in their appearance. Their house ties morphed to Gryffindor red and gold, but that wasn’t the extent of it. Their hair changed to gold with red streaks or red with gold streaks, their eyes turned a frightening gold-flecked scarlet, their nails were suddenly painted red and gold, and bright crimson pustules across their faces spelled out, “GO GRYFFINDOR!”

As angry yells from the Slytherins, hysterical laughter from the members of the other three houses, and confused noises from several others filled the Great Hall, Haley chortled. Stage one of their Ultimate Four-Stage Prank accomplished, no problem.

Except for one thing…she’d almost forgotten that her father was sitting right there at the staff table, watching the chaos. And he wasn’t stupid-- he’d never doubt for a second that this was Haley, Emma, and Ivy’s doing. She wondered how many points would be taken from Gryffindor.

She looked up quickly at the staff table and gave her father a small, nervous wave. He waved back, with an apparent expression of slight surprise-- but was it Haley’s imagination, or had he just given Haley a conspiratorial wink?

“Is it just my imagination, or did Dad just give me a conspiratorial wink?” asked Haley.

“It wasn’t your imagination,” answered Emma, bewildered. “And since when do you use the word ‘conspiratorial?’”

“I think I’ve been spending too much time with my baby brother,” replied Haley. “It gets to you.” The aforementioned ‘baby brother’ turned toward his sister with a death glare affixed on his face.

“Look, Dad might be completely insane, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did that to the Slytherins. It was obviously you three. Who else would put so much time and effort into such nonsense?”

“Uncle Fred and Uncle George,” replied Haley.

“The Marauders,” answered Ivy.

“Your mum,” responded Emma. Jordan looked at her quizzically. “April Fool,” she muttered. “Sheesh, some people can’t take a joke.”

“Yes, well, that’s beside the point. The point is, I know you’re going to ruin things for everyone. You’re going to lose us house points, and I’m going to get in trouble for not controlling you better. So you’d better watch yourselves, or… or… I’ll be very upset indeed!” Jordan informed them, then stalked out of the Great Hall. Haley couldn’t help but giggle slightly at her twin’s version of a threat-- “or I’ll be very upset indeed.”

“He didn’t seem too happy about Step One,” noted Ivy, “What do you think he’ll be like when we pull off Step Three?”

Emma pondered the point. “Livid,” she told Ivy cheerily.


* * * * *

Jordan knew something was up when Haley and Emma couldn’t stop giggling on their way to Potions. They sound of it was giving him a headache, but the headache wasn’t nearly as bad as the ominous, foreboding feeling that was hanging over his head. His sister hated Professor Zabini. He was her arch nemesis. There was no way she would pass up an opportunity to prank him.

Jordan couldn’t believe that their father was willing to turn a blind eye on his daughter’s foolishness, but the most maddening part was that, inexcusable as this seemed, he knew his father had a good reason for it. Jordan didn’t know what his good idea was, but his father obviously had one-- there was always a method to his madness. He never contested what his father had to say, because deep down, Jordan knew that he was always right. He was Harry Potter, for crying out loud.

Sometimes, Jordan wished he had never taken that Pensieve from his father’s study four years before, never explored the contents, never witnessed the final battle in which his father had defeated Voldemort. But he had. It had been a huge shock for him-- after all, nobody really took Voldemort seriously anymore. He was in the past, a defeated Dark Lord, just a name touched upon in History of Magic. Like Grindelwald or one of the many leaders of goblin rebellions.

Sure, Jordan had known his father was the hero of the wizarding world, but he’d never known why. Oh, he’d known there had been a battle against Voldemort, but he’d never expected it to have been so… real. It had been so hard, so fast, so full of pain and death. And Voldemort hadn’t been destroyed by a quick, painless spell. It had been a lot more complicated than that.

The hardest part to grasp was that Harry had only been seventeen when he did it, only three years older than Jordan. He knew he would never be able to do what his father had done-- looked pure evil straight in the eye, risked his life to save his friends, faced death for the good of others.

He had emerged from the Pensieve shaking, and he’d never been quite the same since. Nobody else knew about his little jaunt into his father’s memory, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever tell. What had happened between Harry Potter and Voldemort that terrible night would have been hard on anyone, but it was especially traumatic for a ten-year-old boy. He knew he’d never forget what he’d seen.

“Ahhh, maybe you, Mr. Potter, can tell me the chief ingredient in Polyjuice Potion,” came a cold voice from behind him.

Jordan blinked. He wasn’t ten years old and staring into the Pensieve. He was fifteen, and sitting in Potions class. What had gotten into him? He rarely, if ever, daydreamed during class. Most unlike him. “A bit of the person into whom you plan to transform, sir,” he answered Professor Zabini calmly. Of course he knew the answer-- he always did.

Professor Zabini looked vaguely irritated that he didn’t get to snatch away any more points from Gryffindor. “Correct. Now, please, get to work on your potions. I know that this is a N.E.W.T. level potion, but I still expect all of you to produce a sample worthy of at least an A by the end of this period.”

Everyone got to work, though Jordan noticed with some annoyance that Tyrone had raised his hand. Oh, no. If you asked question in Professor Zabini’s class, it was a sure ticket to the land of negative house points.

“Professor?” asked Tyrone. “I was absent when we started the potions last month. What can I do while everyone else is finishing up?”

Jordan winced. This was it, the loss of twenty points. But incredibly, Zabini strode over to his desk and began giving him instructions. While his back was turned, Emma whipped out her wand, pointed it at the blackboard, whispered something unintelligible, then quickly stowed it back in her robes.

Jordan wasn’t sure what incantation she’d used, but a sentence that was all too familiar to him appeared in shimmering gold letters on the blackboard. He groaned and buried his face in his hands-- he should have known.

However, most of the class didn’t share his opinion that this was groanworthy. Instead, they were muffling giggles and snorts, and were pointing, grinning, at the blackboard. Zabini whirled around theatrically.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, barely moving his lips. His black eyes narrowed at the sight of the blackboard, skimming across the words. “Professor Zabini should…” he read quietly, then blinked. “…and a potato?”

The class openly cracked up now, with the exception of one Jordan Potter. “Who is responsible for this?” he snarled, though his cold eyes settled unblinkingly on Haley. His least favorite student. A silence rippled over the classroom as Zabini’s eyes flared up dangerously-- he had quite possibly the scariest eyes of anyone Jordan had ever seen, and that included Lord Voldemort in the Pensieve.

“Nobody leaves this classroom until I find who did this,” he hissed. The classroom was as silent as the grave, until a deep, silky voice called out,

“It was me, Professor.” Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice to see Tyrone Thomas, lounging casually in his seat, arms folded. Zabini’s dark eyebrows shot up, and he fixed his gaze on Tyrone, his lip curling dangerously.

The bell rang, and everyone gathered their books, eager to leave the classroom. Zabini pointed his wand at the blackboard. “Scourgify,” he murmured, but for some strange reason, the spell didn’t clear the words off the blackboard. Instead… instead a shower of potatoes rained on top of him out of thin air, burying him in the lumpy tubers up to his neck. “GAAAA!” he roared.

And just then, something completely unexpected happened, something that not even the most gifted Seer could have predicted, something that was a shock to everyone present. At the sight of the Potions master buried alive in potatoes, Jordan James Potter… laughed!

* * * * *

Harry knew that Blaise Zabini was not in a good mood just from the way he had slammed the door to the staff room and strode toward the table, his eyes blazing. He also smelled faintly of… could it be… potatoes? Harry groaned quietly as he checked his timetable, noting that his children had just finished Potions last period.

Sure enough, Zabini roared, “That daughter of yours disrupted my class today, humiliating and very near injuring me in the process!”

“Typical Haley,” thought Harry, but he simply smiled blandly and asked, “How did you find out that it was in fact Harriet-Lily?”

Zabini’s scowl became even more pronounced. “I did not allow the class to leave until the culprit confessed to her crimes.”

“And Haley said she did it?” Harry asked, knowing where this was going.

“Actually, Tyrone Thomas said he did,” admitted Zabini. “But I know it wasn’t him, because I was assisting him with his potion at the time when… the prank was pulled.”

“If Tyrone said he did it, you can’t punish anyone else for it,” Harry informed him calmly. “Though if you believe Tyrone to be innocent, you can’t punish him either.”

His composure only enraged Zabini more. A vein was throbbing in his temple, and his teeth were bared. Harry could see why the students were so frightened of their Potions master. “I see,” said Zabini through gritted teeth, and he stalked from the room, shaking with anger.

Harry hummed to himself as he graded the last of the sixth years’ essays on resisting the Imperius curse. He thought he might like a baked potato for lunch.

* * * * *

“That was hilarious back in Potions,” complimented Ted. “Even Jordan was cracking up. Whose idea was the shower of potatoes?”

“Mine,” Ivy volunteered shyly.

Ted looked impressed. “Wow, good one, Ivy!”

Ivy smiled as Tyrone sauntered by. “Hey!” called Emma. “Hey, thanks for covering for me back there.”

“No problem,” Tyrone replied in a leisurely manner. “Terrific prank, by the way. Even if I got detention for it, it would have been well worth it. But I didn’t, so it was even cooler this way. Did you see Jordan laughing?”

“Yeah,” answered Haley. “But believe me, he won’t be laughing after our next prank.” Her eyes gleamed in a slightly eerie manner as she said this.

“Wait, so you’re still going to pull more pranks?” asked Ted.

His question was answered that day at lunch.

“Ted, you know, we’re supposed to have a surprise quiz later today in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Ivy stated casually as she took a bite of salad, though loud enough for Jordan to hear. “I heard it from my cousin, Edwin. And a lot of it is supposed to be on fighting off lethifolds and nundus.”

Jordan half-choked on his black pudding. “What?!” he spluttered. “Are you serious?”

“No, actually, I’m Ivy,” said Ivy innocently. “Sirius is dead, remember?”

Jordan ignored her comment and began speaking very fast as he usually did when agitated. “Nundus and lethifolds? Those were the two lessons I missed when I had the flu two weeks ago! I thought we wouldn’t be tested on that for ages and ages! I’ve got to go to the library!” And with that, he bolted out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him.

Ted turned to Haley. “There isn’t really a test today, is there?”

“Nope,” she replied happily. “Well, that should get him out of the way for now.”

She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the large Hogwarts crest tapestry that was hung on the wall over the staff table. “Projecto!” she whispered, waving her wand. Instantly, the tapestry became a white, flat screen, and video footage of dancing lights was projected onto it.


“Please face the front of the Great Hall for some very special entertainment,” came a voice broadcasting out of Haley’s wand. The voice belonged to her cousin, Edwin Weasley, though he had disguised it so that it sounded uncannily like a voice-over announcer.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Camera, a student produced show filmed entirely on location at Hogwarts. Everybody has secrets. Everybody does things they wouldn’t want others to see when they think they’re alone. Hogwarts Camera explores these secrets, one student at a time. Today, we will be witnesses to five minutes in the life of Jordan Potter, age fifteen. Top wizard in his year, best seeker Hogwarts has seen in years, son of Harry Potter. Let’s see what he does in his spare time, shall we?”

The screen changed from the background of flashing lights to the boys’ dormitory. (Haley had gotten in via Invisibility Cloak to make her film.) Standing in the middle of the room was Jordan, wearing nothing but a pair of red boxer shorts with little snitches flying around on them, and the national flag tied around his neck like a superhero cape. His bright red guitar was strapped to his shoulder, and his wand (using the Sonorous charm to amplify his voice) was propped up on top of the stand for his Astronomy telescope.

Jordan began behaving very oddly, strumming wildly on his guitar and screaming out the song “Satisfaction,” by the Rolling Stones. He held nothing back, yelling, thrashing about with the mic stand, strutting around the dormitory, even shaking his head madly like a punk rocker, causing his hair to look even messier than usual.

Some people, including Antonia Carville (Jordan’s date to the Valentines’ Day Ball) looked quite impressed, but nearly everyone else was in hysterics at his out-of-character behavior.

After the song ended, Edwin’s voice announced, “Well, that been Hogwarts Camera, the secret lifestyle of Jordan Potter. Tune in next April Fools’ Day for even more fun. Good day, everyone!”

The film ended, but not without enthusiastic applause. Haley resisted the strong urge to bow-- it was not in her best interest to let Zabini know that this was her work.

* * * * *

Jordan didn’t know why so many people pointed and laughed at him as he walked down the corridors to and from his classes, or why people screamed, “Wooo!” when they saw him passing by. He thought maybe Haley, Emma, and Ivy had done some kind of odd enchantment on him so that he looked silly or embarrassing, but he had cast aside that notion after a thorough check in the mirror.

He pulled Ted aside in the hallway between classes. “Ted, I don’t know what’s going on, but why is everyone laughing? Did Haley, Emma, and Ivy do something to me?”

Ted looked uncomfortable. “Erm, yeah… yeah, they did,” he replied, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jordan glared at the wall over Ted’s shoulder, as though he was trying to bore holes through it with his eyes. “Did they…” he rummaged around in his brain for something horrible and immature that the girls could have done. “Did they hang my underwear in the Great Hall where the Hogwarts crest tapestry should be?”

“Er… actually… you’re, uh, freakishly close…” Ted answered hesitantly.

Jordan’s eyes narrowed, and he suddenly bore a striking resemblance to one Professor Zabini. “Tell me,” he growled.

“Well, uh, Haley-made-a-movie-of-you-in-your-boxers-impersonating-Mick-Jagger-and-broadcast-it-to-the-whole-school-during-lunch,” Ted told him, speaking faster than Jordan ever had. “But, hey, don’t get mad at me.”

“Mad? I’m not mad,” said Jordan quietly, and Ted looked surprised. “Why,” Jordan continued, “I’m FURIOUS! ENRAGED! LIVID! I’m INCREDIBLY IRATE! I’m EXTREMELY ANGRY!” Ted couldn’t help but wonder if his friend had a thesaurus inside his brain. “AND WITH GOOD REASON!” Jordan shouted. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND! BUT YOU DIDN’T TELL ME UNTIL I MADE YOU! WHAT KIND OF A FRIEND IS THAT, I ASK YOU?”

Jordan was yelling now. All year, after his tantrum when he found out about Harry teaching, Jordan hadn’t yelled once-- he just kind of stewed in fury. But now he was letting it all out at Ted, siphoning off the tense anger that had filled him all year. This was the last straw.

Ted remained calm. He had seen his friend much worse than this before. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know what they were going to do until they actually, well, did it. And you were in the library, so I couldn’t let you know then. And this is the first time I’ve seen you, not counting class, because Ivy and I were doing our Herbology homework, and--”

“YOU AND IVY? I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU’RE ALWAYS TOO BUSY WITH IVY TO TALK TO ME ANYMORE! NOBODY WANTS TO TALK TO ME! IT’S LIKE HAVING THE BUBONIC PLAGUE, ONLY WITHOUT THE INFECTED BOILS!” Jordan bellowed. He knew he was being selfish and unreasonable, but he couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s not like that!” Ted protested. “It’s you who doesn’t talk to anybody anymore. It’s like you’re afraid of people. And Ivy… well, Haley and Emma might be good friends to her and all, but they don’t really get how upset she is. They don’t notice that type of thing. So Ivy and I sometimes just hang out and do our work together-- this year’s really hard on her, she’s got a lot of problems, and--”

“LIKE I DON’T HAVE PROBLEMS!” Jordan hollered. “GOT IT, THE GIRLFRIEND ALWAYS COMES BEFORE YOUR BEST MATE! SEE, THIS IS WHY I HATE PEOPLE!” And he stormed off down the hallway to who knows where.

Ted blinked. Best mate? They hadn’t even been close for years, mainly because Jordan had gotten so withdrawn. And Jordan’s words… “See, this is why I hate people.” The words reverberated around in his head, sounding just as chilling each time as they had the first.

He couldn’t help feeling a strange apprehension that this was the last straw before Jordan snapped, a sinking suspicion that Jordan would lose his mind and do something rash. “Someone needs to catch Malfoy,” he thought. “Look what he’s doing to everyone.”

* * * * *

Later that day, Haley, Emma, and Ivy were happily heading down for dinner. But for some reason, Emma proceeded in a different direction than her friends. “Emma, the Great Hall’s this way! That hallway leads to the Hufflepuff Common Room!” Ivy reminded her, pointing her in the right direction. “Surely you’d know that after going to Hogwarts for nearly four years.”

Emma grinned mischievously. “Oh, I’m not heading for the Great Hall just yet. That hall leads to the kitchens, and I have a few things to deliver to the house elves-- certain spices for the food, let’s say, before I go down to dinner.” Phase Four of the Ultimate Four Part Prank had already begun.

Haley and Ivy headed off for the Great Hall without Emma, waiting for the food to pop up on the house tables. They were soon joined by Ted, who looked rather shell-shocked (Ivy wondered what had happened); Tyrone, who wanted to compliment them on their video of Jordan; and not Jordan. Haley’s twin didn’t seem to be anywhere at all.

“Where do you suppose Jordan is?” Haley asked carelessly.

“Well, he’s a bit upset,” Ted told her. “Or in his words, furious, livid, enraged, incredibly irate, and extremely angry. He didn’t like your prank very much.”

“I did!” Tyrone chipped in loudly.

Ivy looked slightly guilty. “I was afraid that would happen,” she said softly.

“What, me liking it?” asked Tyrone. Everyone ignored him, something to which the boy was very unaccustomed.

“Yeah, so was I,” Ted replied as Emma joined them, smiling mysteriously. Of course, Haley and Ivy knew exactly what was going on, but the boys had no clue.

“Hello Ted, Tyrone,” Emma greeted them breezily. “I wouldn’t eat any of the food if I were you, unless you really want to be among my latest victims.”

“There are times when she really scares me,” Tyrone noted to Ted, who chuckled. Emma’s eyes were indeed ablaze with vindictive pleasure.

Nobody seemed to notice that the five of them weren’t touching their food at all when it appeared on the house tables. But they definitely noticed that everyone in the Great Hall was suddenly turning into a large, yellow canary with a loud chirp.

“Canary creams!” Haley shouted to Ted over the angry chirping. “Emma gave them to the House Elves to put into the food! And look at what Ivy did!”

‘What Ivy did’ soon became apparent. Triggered by the chirping noise, a sound-activated panel opened in the ceiling, and lots of confetti and ‘Weasleys’ Wildfire Whizbangs’ fireworks floated down, accompanied by a burst of riotous polka music. The effect was so hilarious that the five of them who hadn’t eaten the food cracked up, Haley actually falling backward off the bench and hitting her head on the ground with a loud ‘crack.’

“I love April Fools Day!” she exclaimed gleefully from the ground.

“Me, too!” replied Emma in a fit of laughter.

A lone figure slouched by the door, a book clutched tightly to his chest. He peered into the chaos-filled Great Hall, his bright green eyes narrowed angrily. “I don’t,” he muttered.

The next two months passed in a whirl, and before long, it was the day before school ended for the year. Everyone was lounging around outdoors, enjoying the benefits of having no homework. Night was falling, and four of the five friends were sitting under a tree by the lake, throwing jelly slugs to the giant squid (though Haley seemed to be doing more slug-eating than slug-throwing). As it was a full moon, Ted was inside the Shrieking Shack, ready to transform.

“So,” Ivy mentioned, “Dad’s supposed to deliver a report to the Ministry with Uncle Ron tonight, about everything they found out about Malfoy and ways to capture him. It’ll be odd not having him around, won’t it?”

Jordan stood up stiffly, hugging his books to his chest. “What, you think the school won’t be able to run without Dad? You think nobody can go ten minutes without their precious Harry Potter?” he snapped.

Ivy blinked. “No, of course I didn’t…” she began.

“Right, I think I’ll take a walk,” Jordan muttered, and he skulked away from the other three.

Haley sighed. “Typical Jordan. Well, except for him being all nasty, and Malfoy on the loose, and Ted getting attacked and Quidditch being canceled, it was a pretty good year considering.”

Emma held up a sheet of parchment. “Passed everything again,” she announced lazily.

“Me, too,” added Ivy. “Same with Ted and Jordan, from what I’ve heard.”

Haley looked slightly sheepish. “Erm, not me,” she said. “Ah, well, who cares? Mum and Dad won’t�”they’re used to it by now. At least I passed Dad’s class.” Haley was not stupid in the least, but she, like her uncles Fred and George, had never really cared about such petty things as homework, deadlines, and final exams. Instead, she put her talents to other uses-- planning pranks, doing spirited Quidditch commentary, and her chief hobbies of singing, dancing, and acting.

“Yeah, this year wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be,” agreed Emma. “Even our classes weren’t too hard. Well, of course, Zabini was foul, but we got back at him. And Haley, your dad’s a really great teacher… no offense to Ted, of course. Professor Lupin’s really good, too.”

“And Ophidias hardly ever bothered us,” noted Ivy. “Last year, he was always trying to hex us. Remember when he sliced Ted’s head open that one time? He was aiming for me, though…” Her face looked slightly troubled. “Maybe he’s actually scared about Malfoy escaping-- maybe he’s worried about that, too. You never know.”

The giant squid smashed all of its tentacles on the surface of the lake water, soaking the girls thoroughly. “I think that’s our cue to go inside,” Haley told the others, wringing out her drenched hair.

* * * * *

Jordan saw the dark silhouettes of Emma, Haley, and Ivy traipsing back into the castle, and he sighed. There had been a time when they had been inseparable, but now he felt completely estranged from them. Especially his twin sister, Haley. What normal teenaged girl never yelled at her father and was actually happy to have him teaching at her school? But then, she was hardly ‘normal,’ was she? She was the Daughter of Potter.

He had, without realizing it, strolled aimlessly into the Forbidden Forest. It was called the Forbidden Forest for a reason-- no one was allowed in-- and Jordan had only been there once before, in his first year. He hesitated, then continued on. So what if he broke a rule? It was the day before the last day of school. And he rarely got in trouble (in fact, his record was clear) so what did it matter? He was feeling rather apathetic as he made his way deeper and deeper into the woods.

Suddenly, a twig snapped, and he jumped, then was knocked onto his back by…

“Ahhh, don’t tell me that I have the pleasure of meeting little Potter Junior at last?” drawled a cold voice. Not daring to look up at the face of the person before him as he lay helplessly on his back, Jordan thought frantically.

“It’s Malfoy… it’s Malfoy… what am I going to do? I can’t yell for help, no one will hear me… I can’t try and fight him, he’s a dark wizard! He’s just going to kill me right now, and there’s nothing I can do…”

“Look at me, Potter Junior,” snarled the cold voice, and there was a flash of yellow light, accompanied by an invisible force that bent his head backward.

Before Jordan was the tall, gaunt figure of Draco Malfoy, hooded cloak pulled low over his pale sneering face.

“So, tell me, how would you like to die? I’ll be nice and give you a choice. I could kill you now, make it quick and painless. If you like things fair, I could give you a head start and let you try to escape as much as you can before I blast you to oblivion. Or, if you fancy yourself some kind of hero, you can just stand there stupidly and die a long, slow, Gryffindor’s death. Well, which one do you want? Don’t look at me like that, you should be grateful I’m letting you pick�”most people aren’t so lucky.”

Jordan was shivering and his heart was racing, but nowhere near as quickly as his brain was. How could this be happening? He never got into this type of situation. He never did anything dangerous at all, with the exception of Quidditch. But now, he was being asked to choose his death, of all things.

This meant there was only one thing to do-- something he’d been imagining every night since the school year had begun, but had never actually planned to do even in his wildest fantasies. “N-n-no,” he stammered, trying and failing not to look terrified out of his wits.

Malfoy laughed harshly and slightly madly. “No? What do you mean, Potter? Are the choices I gave you not good enough for the hero’s little boy?”

“Listen to me,” Jordan begged, and he suddenly became very aware of the fact that his voice sounded embarrassingly shrill, like a small child whining.

“Why should I listen to you?” Malfoy asked, sounding rather amused at the absurdity of such an idea.

Jordan struggled to a sitting position. “Because… because I’m not who you think I am,” he whispered hoarsely.

Malfoy laughed again. “Of course I know who you are. You’re Jordan Potter. And I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t let you go back to the castle and tattle to your daddy and your little friends and spoil my plans.” He raised his wand, but Jordan held up his hand.

“You don’t, you don’t understand,” he gasped. “I’m not like my pathetic father and my stupid sister. All that I’ve wanted to do for the past year is… is…” he took a deep breath. “I want to join you. To be an Overseer.”

Malfoy’s hard grey eyes stared into Jordan’s from beneath his hood, but the boy didn’t blink or look away. Jordan knew what he was trying to do-- Malfoy was a Legilimens, and he wanted to know whether or not Jordan was telling the truth. But that didn’t worry Jordan. It didn’t matter what Malfoy saw, because he wouldn’t be seeing anything but the truth behind his eyes.

At last, the Dark wizard looked away. “Then it really is true,” he said softly, astonishment evident in his voice. “Harry Potter’s son turning to the dark side… I must admit, I’m impressed. But you’re not even of age. How can you possibly help me?”

“You became a Death Eater when you were sixteen,” Jordan said, now speaking in a strong and clear voice. This was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but to be doing it at last! “I can give you information about what’s going on at Hogwarts! Or… or I could give my father and my uncle false information and lead them right into your hands. After all, nobody could ever suspect me.” He’d been planning this dialogue for months, but that didn’t make it any easier to say, especially not those cold grey eyes were so closely fixated on his own.

Malfoy looked closely at Jordan again. “Very well,” he said slowly, “But today’s attack on the castle is a trial period. If everything goes well, I’d be honoured to accept you as one of my Overseers. But if you fail…”

Jordan nodded, and kneeled down at Malfoy’s feet. “Yes,” he intoned. “Yes, master.”

* * * * *

“Did either of you see Jordan come back from his stroll?” asked Ivy anxiously, looking out of the dormitory window about an hour later.

“No,” answered Emma. “That’s some serious strolling on his part.” She was plaiting her hair into two braids to sleep in, and was wearing her gold silk pajamas and a maroon-coloured dressing gown.

Haley looked worried. “Jordan would never miss curfew, though, especially with Malfoy on the lo-- wait, what was that?” The edge of a black cloak had flickered just outside the Forbidden Forest and just as quickly disappeared from view.

“That was probably just Jordan coming back,” Emma shrugged. “He always wears black… thinks it adds to his ‘moody genius’ look or something, I guess.”

Ivy shook her head. “No. He was wearing Muggle clothes today, and that person’s cloak had silver designs on it, not like the Hogwarts cloaks. Which means that it must have been someone else…”

All three girls looked at each other. “Malfoy,” they breathed, then tore out of the dormitory into the Common Room, out of the portrait hole, down seven staircases and into the foyer.

“Where--are--we--going?” panted Haley, clutching a stitch in her side.

“Following--you,” gasped Emma.

“I--was--following--you!” puffed Ivy.

“Me--too,” added Haley.

Emma blinked. “What--are--we--waiting--for? RUN!” And they did so, out the front door (It was actually supposed to be guarded by a prefect, but luckily, Haley covered the others with an invisibility cloak-- she always kept the cloak in her ‘pockety’ jacket. In any case, the prefect on duty didn’t seem to be there) and out into the moonlight yard.

As soon as they reached the schoolyard, Haley said in a low voice, “I think I have a plan. Ivy, come out from under the cloak and come with me. Emma, go get Ted from the Shrieking Shack. If Malfoy has Jordan, I’ll send a Patronus back to the castle. And I’ll leave a red-blazed trail behind me so Emma and Ted can follow us. I’ll explain later.”

Her friends stared at her.

“Go on!” she encouraged. “Well… I thought it was a good plan…”

“When did you come up with that?” asked Ivy.

“Just now,” replied Haley brightly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pass everything,” muttered Emma. “Well, OK, I’ll get Ted now, but I don’t see what use it’ll be. He’s a slobbering wolf right now, remember?”

“Believe me,” whispered Haley. “I don’t have time to explain, but have I ever steered you wrong?… Don’t answer that.”

Emma shrugged and ran off for the Whomping Willow. Ivy, free of the cloak, followed the still-invisible Haley, who regularly muttered ‘Flagrate!’ and caused streaks of red to appear on the trunks of nearby trees.

The two girls walked on for what seemed like forever, and Ivy didn’t know how Haley knew where she was going. It was like she knew the Forbidden Forest by heart, which, knowing the kinds of mischief Haley liked to get into, wasn’t that improbable.
Suddenly, the blazes stopped appearing on trees and Ivy crashed into her invisible friend. “What’s going--”

“Shh,” whispered Haley. “I hear someone.”

Neither of them moved a single muscle or even dared breathe or blink, as a tall, black-cloaked figure moved toward them through the gloom. Ivy gulped. Malfoy, for the first time in over ten years, was standing before her.

“Go on,” whispered Haley from beneath the cloak, giving Ivy a little push. Her face very white, her expression pinched, and her breathing shallow, Ivy stumbled out from behind a the nearest tree and into a clearing.

“Who’s there?” asked Malfoy in a sharp voice.

“It’s… me…” squeaked Ivy, brushing her fringe out of her eyes.

Malfoy stood as still and pale as a wax statue, staring back at Ivy. Then he pulled off his cloak, revealing his face. Ivy gasped.

This man was not the handsome, youthful father he’d been ten years ago, but he wasn’t the corpselike person in the pictures plastered all around the school. His face was clean now, but still hollowed and lined, and his eyes still looked deadened, gleaming from their sunken sockets.

Though still painfully thin, he was not nearly as skeletal as he’d appeared in his wanted posters, and he was cleanly shaven. His white-blond hair was still long, but now it was neatly groomed and shining, and pulled back into a ponytail that flowed down his back. Under his cloak, his robes looked new and expensive; obviously, his servants had provided him with many things since his escape from prison.

Malfoy smiled, looking eerily like a grinning skull in the dingy light. “Can this beautiful young lady be my little Ivy?” he asked in a disconcertingly soft, warm voice.

This was the voice that Ivy remembered telling her bedtime stories and singing to her from what seemed like a lifetime ago, and she was frightened. She hadn’t been expecting this at all, hadn’t expected him to be kind. She had rather hoped that he might spare her from death, but she’d never dreamed she’d be treated like the child she once was.

“No,” she said quietly.

Malfoy blinked. “You’re not Ivy? You look so much like--”

“No,” she repeated, in a small, hard voice. “I’m Ivy, but I’m not your little Ivy.”

“But how could you not recognize your own father?” asked Malfoy, sounding completely confused and not at all frightening. In fact, he sounded almost frightened himself.

Ivy didn’t know where she was getting all of this courage; she was normally so shy, even in front of her friends. “You aren’t my father. I’ve been adopted, by the Potters. But I do recognize you...how could I not? Everyone in the wizarding world knows about the awful things you’ve been doing to people.”

Malfoy didn’t become enraged like Ivy had expected. Instead, he looked as though he was about to cry. “I’ve been gone too long,” he murmured. “You’ve been brainwashed. Harry Potter will--”

“I haven’t been brainwashed by anyone,” Ivy cut him off again. “At least, not by anyone except you. I know that some of the best witches in wizards in history have been Muggle-born, and it doesn’t make sense to go around getting rid of them if there are more of them than there are purebloods.” She felt like she was explaining to an impatient three-year-old that brown cows don’t make chocolate milk, and she was speaking just as calmly as someone who was. “And nobody told me that. I figured it out myself.”

Malfoy looked shocked and horrified. “Ivy, I don’t know where you got that, but it’s a lie. All of it was cooked up by Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers, and there’s not a drop of truth in it. Not one respectable witch or wizards has ever been Muggle-born or Muggle-raised, and anyone who has any Slytherin pride would--”

“Maybe we have different definitions of the world ‘respectable,’” Ivy said quietly. “My father was Muggle-raised, and he’s the best wizard I’ve ever known. And I’m in Gryffindor.”

Malfoy’s face contorted like that of a constipated gargoyle sucking a lemon. “I can’t believe my own daughter would--”

“I’m not your daughter!”

“--would believe this. I can’t let them twist your mind like this. It’s not who you really are.”

“It is,” Ivy replied in the same small, hard voice.

“NOW!” roared a familiar voice from behind a tree, and instantly, two people appeared from under an invisibility cloak. It was Haley, along with Emma, who must have followed them and somehow joined her cousin beneath the cloak.

“Hey, Malfoy, don’t talk like that to our best friend!” yelled Emma, whipping out her wand in a show of characteristic boldness to the point of stupidity. “There. It’s three against one, and we fight like you’d expect the daughters of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to fight-- hard.”

Malfoy’s eyes became cold slits. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘badly,’” he hissed, and he snapped his fingers, the sound echoing throughout the silent forest. Instantly, two more figures materialized, both completely unrecognizable under black hooded cloaks and masks. One was about the same height as Malfoy, and the other was much shorter. “Well, it looks I’m not outnumbered after all. And we have the upper hand here-- how can three silly little girls possibly match the Dark Arts? Also…” he snapped his fingers again, “I’ve brought along a few little friends, in case you try to escape.”

Several Dementors appeared just as suddenly as the Overseers had, their ragged hooded forms causing an unearthly chill, their scabbed hands protruding sickeningly from tattered sleeves.

Terrible memories swirled through Ivy’s head, all of the most horrible, lonely moments of her life… all of them accompanied by the bloodcurdling soundtrack of Ted’s inhuman cries of pain as the werewolf ripped into Ted’s face on Christmas Eve… she felt herself fading into blackness and let it envelope her without struggle.

* * * * *

Haley saw Ivy fall to the ground, but there wasn’t time to check on her. She and Emma exchanged glances, and each ran toward an Overseer. Emma chose the tall one; Haley, the short one.

“What’s the point of fighting?” snarled the short one in a strangely familiar voice as Haley pointed her wand at him. “It’s so much easier to give in. You know you’ll only die either way.”

“Yeah, unless you do first,” Haley panted, more bravely than she felt. “STUPEFY!” But the Overseer simply laughed and sent out a shield charm, causing Haley to have to duck as her own spell came rebounding back at her.

“AVA--”

“EXPELLIARMUS!” Haley shrieked, and the Overseer’s wand slipped to the tips of his fingers-- though he managed to retrieve it before it flew away. His reflexes were excellent.

However, as he leaned forward to grab his wand, the mask slipped from his face. As he tried to pull at his hood, attempting to cover his face completely, Haley spotted a bright green eye peeking out from between two fingers, a lock of messy black hair escaping from beneath the hood. She froze-- she couldn’t believe it… she wouldn’t believe it. This Overseer was…

“JORDAN!” she screamed in a state of disbelieving shock, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “YOU…”

“Yes, I’m an Overseer,” Jordan informed her calmly, tearing off his mask. “Our father will be crushed when he finds out who killed his precious little daughter, won’t he?”

“JORDAN, I’M YOUR SISTER!” she hollered hysterically. “WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID? I’M YOUR SISTER!”

“Yes,” said Jordan, still in the same horribly calm voice that did not befit him at all. “But loyalty comes before family.” He raised his wand.

Haley’s eyes, identical to the ones peering out from the Overseer’s hood, narrowed. “You’re right,” she breathed. “Loyalty comes before family.” This Overseer might be her brother, but who what terrible things he could be planning? He needed to be stopped. Before her twin had time to react, before even she had time to think about what she was doing, she had pointed her wand at him and shouted, “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

It was like something out of a nightmare. Green light burst forth from the end of Haley’s wand, illuminating the forest in an otherworldly emerald glow, accompanied by a loud whooshing noise. There was something strangely ominous about it, like the flapping of the wings of a thousand vampire bats. For a moment, everything was still. Emma and the tall Death Eater stopped dueling, Malfoy stood in place, and even the Dementors didn’t move.

Then Jordan hit the ground hard, with a terrible ‘thump’ of finality, and Haley’s throat constricted with the sudden realization of what she had done.

“NO!” She had killed a person. She, Harriet-Lily Potter, had killed a person. And not just any person-- her own twin brother. He was gone forever.

Although he had been an Overseer, he’d also been her brother, and he’d always been there in her life (with the exception of the first three minutes and thirty-six seconds.) Haley couldn’t help but think that he would never again fly his broom around the Quidditch pitch, never again read one of his books, never again play his bright red guitar, never again annoy his sisters… it must have been her imagination or wishful thinking, because Haley could have sworn that he had just moved.

She blinked… and so did Jordan! He got to his feet with a groan and a strange sneering smile. “You thought you’d killed me, didn’t you?” he panted. “No, you’re not powerful enough to cast an Unforgivable Curse. That’s the biggest difference between you and me; you’re weak, you don’t have the skill to push back your feelings and focus on what you’re trying to do.” He shot a beam of purple light her way, but Haley ducked it and replied,

“That’s NOT the biggest difference! The biggest difference is that I’m not stupid enough join the Dark Side just to be different… PETRIFICUS TOTALIS!”

Jordan ducked this spell, too, and he made to cast another, but he suddenly stopped. Noticing that her brother was looking at something behind her, Haley whirled around.

Apparently, Malfoy had been slowly edging away as they dueled, because a silver-brown blur was streaking toward Malfoy from behind a tree. Haley gasped; she had been so busy reeling in shock from the discovery that Jordan was an Overseer that she’d nearly forgotten about her plan. She had told Emma to bring Ted in his furrier incarnation for extra help if Malfoy tried to get away.

Ted the wolf snarled and lunged toward Malfoy. Emma and the tall Overseer she’d been dueling both screamed, Emma’s scream fake-- they knew that Ted was in perfect control of himself, and he was just trying to frighten Malfoy.

He was doing a good job, too; if Haley hadn’t known him, she’d have been quaking in her pink sequined ballet flats. “AWOOOO!” Ted threw back his wolf’s head and let out a blood-curdling howl that made the hairs stand up on the back of Haley’s neck.

“Oh no, Ted forgot to take his potion!” Emma yelled, though Haley could tell that she was acting. Hopefully, though, Jordan wouldn’t be able to see this. He’d never been very good at understanding people, and now it was working against him.

Now Ted was chasing Malfoy around a tree. It would have been funny if Haley hadn’t been so terrified-- Malfoy was yelping at a rather high pitch and was running around flailing his arms like a cartoon character. In the confusion, the tall Overseer ran for cover, Jordan and Haley stopped dueling and the Dementors began to move closer.

Haley felt cold and frightened-- the Dementors were making her remember things she’d rather not. She was three, watching her uncle kill Fenrir Greyback on her front porch during an attempted attack on Harry’s life; she was eleven and was being told by Professor Zabini that she was pathetic and useless, stupid to boot, and would never amount to anything; she was twelve, failing miserably at Quidditch tryouts in her second year; she was fourteen and learning of Malfoy’s escape; she was watching the werewolf rip into Ted’s face; she was learning that Jordan was an Overseer… she wondered what kind of memories Ivy had that had caused her to faint.

Ted the wolf was now chasing Malfoy around a mulberry bush. “Round and round the mulberry bush, the werewolf chased the ferret,” Haley couldn’t help but think. Trust her to come up with a song at a time like this.

“P-POTTER!” puffed Malfoy. “What are you standing there for? ATTACK!”

Jordan smiled. But it was an odd, twisted smile, the one he wore when he was being sarcastic. “Will do… master. STUPEFY!” He pointed his wand and a red beam jetted out, hitting his target squarely in the chest. But his target wasn’t Haley. It was… Malfoy.

As he stumbled backward, a Dementor moved forward, and by some odd twist of fate, their paths crossed.

It was as though Haley was watching the scene in slow motion: Malfoy’s body fell in a neat arc, his head snapping back just as the Dementor leaned over. There was a horrible rushing, sucking noise, a gurgling rattle, and something pearly white escaping from between Malfoy’s forced-open lips as his body hit the ground, motionless.

And then there was a terrible silence.

Haley stood blinking, trying to take in what had just happened. Malfoy had just experienced the Dementor’s kiss-- his soul had been sucked out through his mouth. He was worse than dead. And the person who had cast the spell was Jordan, Jordan who was apparently an Overseer… it was all so confusing. She looked over at her brother.

Jordan was slightly green, his eyes looked strangely huge, and he was breathing very hard. But the expression on his face reminded her of someone else she knew. He was standing perfectly straight, which was a definite change from his usual slump. His jaw was firmly set, and his brow was furrowed.

Suddenly, Haley remembered why it seemed so familiar: this was how her father looked when he was concentrating particularly hard or was having a difficult time. “And he always says he’s nothing like Dad…” she thought.

Just then, there was a loud rustling from behind them, the sound of twigs snapping as many feet crashed through the underbrush. “A little deeper in!” a very familiar voice called. “They left a trail.”

Ten people ran into the clearing wearing stark black Auror robes. “Haley! Jordan! Emma! You’re all right!” was the first thing out of Harry Potter’s mouth. Then he did a double take and noticed the Dementors, Ivy sprawled out on the ground, the werewolf pacing beside her like a guard, and Malfoy’s unmoving body.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” one of the Aurors yelled as though he did this every day. Something silver burst forth from his wand like a gorilla-shaped shield, illuminating the glen in silvery light and driving the Dementors away. Haley’s head was beginning to ache. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and she didn’t understand any of it at all.

Harry stepped forward. “What,” he said in a voice that clearly radiated authority, “is going on here? ”

Everyone began to speak at once.

“Malfoy was out here in the forest, we saw him from the dormitory, so we all came down here because I thought he had kidnapped Jordan, and�””

“AWOOO!” (That was Ted.)

“It’s Jordan, Uncle Harry, Jordan’s an Overseer, he�””

“No, I’m not.”

Everyone turned to look at Jordan. He was smiling, though he was still a strange shade of greenish-white and was shaking slightly.

“I’m not. Ever since I heard he escaped, I’d been making plans to get rid of Malfoy. The one I liked best was to convince him that I was on his side, then blast him when he was least expecting it. But I never planned on actually doing it… it was just a fantasy, something that I liked to think about. I mean, everyone likes to imagine themselves as a hero, no matter how unrealistic it is. Well, I was going for a walk earlier tonight, and I ran into Malfoy. And I had a choice--I could die, or I could use my plan. And, well, you can see what happened. I stunned him, and… and the Dementors… they finished up the job for me.”

Harry looked shocked, worried, impressed, disappointed, proud, and confused all at once. “Why, though? Why did you think that it was safe for four kids-- all right, five if you count Ted-- to take on Malfoy? He’s killed about fifty people, and you were one of his main targets! Why didn’t you summon the Order?”

Haley looked her father square in the eye. “What would you have done, Dad?” she asked.

Nobody spoke for a moment, then a slight smile spread across Harry’s lips. “You have a point there… but that doesn’t mean that it was the right thing to do. I’ve been known to do some incredibly stupid things. Now, we’re going to have to move Malfoy’s body--” he shuddered slightly here, “and Dale, Farley, there should be an escaped Overseer on the grounds. Try and get him before he crosses the school boundary, because he’ll be a lot harder to catch if he leaves the school grounds. We don’t want him to Apparate away.”

Haley suddenly realized that the tall Overseer that Emma had been dueling had slipped away during all of the confusion.

She was beginning to feel very tired indeed. Suddenly, without warning, she burst into tears and fell into her twin brother’s arms, crying from mingled fatigue, happiness, and fear.

At that same moment, the large, brindled wolf padded gently over to where Ivy lay on the ground, her long blonde braid spread out behind her. The wolf licked her face with his pink, flexible tongue, and her eyes snapped open at once. She sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around the neck of the tame wolf that she called her friend, and his warmth was just as reassuring as always, no matter what he looked like.

It had been a very long day indeed.

“DARK MASTER DRACO MALFOY DEFEATED!
June 28, 2019, Hogsmeade.

Every schoolchild has heard of Potter’s Eight, the team of eight wizards and witches, led by Harry Potter, who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort over twenty years ago. But have you heard of Potter’s Pentagon?

Jordan Potter, Harriet-Lily Potter, Ivy Potter, Emma Weasley, and Theodore Lupin--fourth years at Hogwarts and all children of members of the Eight-- were responsible for Malfoy’s destruction last night at Hogwarts.

Apparently, Jordan, fifteen, a serious-looking boy with dark hair and startlingly green eyes, had been taking a late-night stroll when he quite literally ran into Malfoy. Faced with the choice of death or whatever popped into his head at the moment, he convinced Malfoy that he was a traitor to the Potter family and wanted to join him, in order to gain Malfoy’s trust.

Meanwhile, his twin sister, Harriet-Lily, fifteen, a petite and perky girl who strongly resembles her brother, spotted something moving in the forest from her dormitory, and, fearing that Malfoy had kidnapped her brother, led her friends down into the woods.

“She came up with a brilliant plan right there on the spot,” says Emma, aged fifteen and a half, a stunning young lady whose long red-tinged hair marks her as a member of the famous Weasley clan. ‘I don’t know how Haley did it. She and Ivy went into the forest, and I got Ted out of the Shrieking Shack.’

Ted, fourteen, a tall and lanky boy with shaggy light-brown hair, just so happens to be a werewolf. He says, ‘What I did last night was kind of strange, because I wasn’t really myself then. I was a wolf. I mean, I was myself, but not in my usual body… oh, you know what I mean!’

As he and Emma made their way toward the forest, Ivy and Haley (the latter of whom was concealed beneath an invisibility cloak) found Malfoy, and Ivy distracted him.

Ivy, fifteen, a bright-eyed girl who wears her blonde hair in a long braid, was in a particularly uncomfortable situation, because she is Malfoy’s biological daughter. (She was adopted by Harry and Ginny Potter earlier this year.) She had not seen Malfoy in over ten years, and she actually had a conversation (in which she informed him that what he was doing was wrong and why) before Haley and Emma came out from behind trees, ready to fight.

However, Malfoy had two Overseers with him. Or rather, one Overseer and one spy-- Jordan (the spy) and Malfoy’s own son, Ophidias Malfoy�”as well as some Dementors.

Haley, who didn’t know that Jordan was not truly an Overseer, dueled with her brother as Emma took on Ophidias. They remained in a deadlock, until Malfoy began to edge toward the school. Instantly, Ted, in wolf form, ran out from his hiding place behind a tree, and chased Malfoy.

‘I had taken my Wolfsbane potion, so I was in control of what I was doing,’ Ted assured this reporter earlier today. ‘The trick was to try and get Malfoy to think that I wasn’t.’

Malfoy instructed Jordan to ‘attack‘, and he did-- only the subject of his attack was Malfoy, who was promptly kissed by one of his own dementors.

At that point, a team of Aurors, led by Harry Potter, arrived, having received double reports that Malfoy had been spotted near Hogsmeade and that Potter’s children weren’t to be found in their beds. Two Aurors, Ivars Dale and Octavian Farley, were sent to catch Ophidias, seventeen, who had escaped from the scene, which they did with almost no struggle.

As Ophidias is of age, he will be sent to Azkaban. However, his sentence will most likely be short, because he cooperated during his trial this morning and gave some very valuable information.

Apparently, the Overseers had planned to storm Hogwarts and murder Potter, his children, Hermione Granger, and her daughter. Although all exits to the school were guarded by prefects, Ophidias, a sixth year prefect who was assigned to guard the front door, was going to let them in. However, the Overseers didn’t know that Potter was at the Ministry of Magic, presenting a report.

As Malfoy is now without a soul and unable to survive on his own, he will be taken to St. Mungo’s to live on intravenous fluids in the permanent ward.

As for the five children who caught Malfoy, they will be honored tomorrow afternoon by the Minister of Magic himself in a special ceremony that will take place in Hogsmeade.

‘What they have done was very brave and very risky,‘ announced Minister of Magic Percival Weasley. ‘Potter’s Five should be considered national heroes.’”

The article was accompanied by a moving picture of the five of them. Seated in the middle of them all was Jordan, beaming as he never had beamed before. When he was smiling, he was barely recognizable-- he actually looked almost handsome.

On either side of him were his sisters, Haley with her hand on his shoulder, and Ivy with Ted’s arm around her. She looked very pretty, and was wearing her hair down for the second time. Though Ted was pale and tired-looking from his transformation the night before, he looked relaxed and happy. Emma stood grinning next to Haley. It was a very good picture of all of them, and it stared up from the front page of the Daily Prophet.

It was the last day of school, and the five friends were greeted by whoops and cheers whenever they walked by. Tyrone had somehow managed to charm the picture from his newspaper onto a t-shirt, and Haley could see her own image waving at her from Tyrone’s broad chest whenever he passed her in the hall.

She wanted to help her father pack his things, as she knew how many books and items he had in his office-- though that wasn’t the only reason. She’d been wanting to have a talk with him.

She reached his office door, and rapped on it three times. “Come in,” called Harry from inside.

Haley stepped inside. “Hi, Dad,” she greeted her father, who was throwing books into a trunk. “Want me to help you pack up?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s all right. I’m nearly done-- I got a head start this morning.” He looked his daughter in the eye. “But you can stay here for a bit if you want.”

Haley nodded, thinking that it was a little scary how her father always seemed to know what was going on in her head. She took a seat on a stool, one that was delightfully spinny, and spun herself around a few times, pushing off of her father’s desk to gain momentum. “Er, Dad…” she said tentatively as she spun around, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about… about last night.”

Harry showed no sign of surprise, and Haley continued. “It’s Jordan… how do we know he’s not really an Overseer? He fooled Malfoy, and Malfoy is… was… one of the best Legilimens-es-es in the world.”

“Right, but Jordan’s an Occlumens,” Harry answered calmly, now stuffing a belt buckle that he never wore (it was shaped like a hippogriff and had been given to him as a gift) into his trunk.

Haley blinked.

“He’s been reading all about Occlumency for a long time now,” her father explained. “He’s probably quite good. And, no, I don’t think he’d ever really become an Overseer. Even if he managed to join, he would never be able to kill off Muggle-borns. He loves Muggles. No one who spends that much time on a Muggle invention like a computer would ever be an Overseer.” He packed a pair of gold hippogriff-patterned socks that matched the ugly belt buckle. “Don’t worry about him. It’s lucky that your killing curse didn’t work, isn’t it?”

“Mmmm,” replied Haley, though her lips tightened. This was the crux of the matter-- the real thing that had been plaguing her. “Dad,” she blurted. “Why didn’t the spell work? What went wrong? Did… am I…”

“You’re not weak, Haley,” Harry told her seriously, cramming the last of his books and a packet of pepper imps on top of the contents of his trunk. “An Unforgivable Curse requires a certain potential of hatred. Some of the best witches and wizards will never be able to cast one.” He sounded like he was teaching one of his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

Haley folded her arms. “I really doubt that,” she told her father. “Name one.”

Harry smiled mysteriously. “Well, if you want an example, let’s see…”

“You can’t think of any, can you?” Haley asked sharply. She almost never argued with her father, but she was beginning to feel annoyed.

Harry’s smile widened. “I can think of lots of people who can’t cast an Unforgivable Curse. I can’t.” Haley actually fell off of her spinny stool at this and landed with a resounding CRASH! “Are you okay?” asked Harry, helping her to her feet.

“Yeah,” gasped Haley. “But what do you mean, you can’t? You… you did in Voldemort, didn’t you? He’s dead, right?”

“There are other ways of killing besides with a simple curse,” Harry explained. That same weary, hardened look returned to his face, making him look as though he’d aged ten years in seconds. “It was a lot harder than that. But that’s another story.”

Haley nodded, and her father returned to his seat. “But Haley,” he said in a very serious tone. “I really want you to understand this: Unforgivable Curses are called that for a reason. If your spell had worked, you’d have had a life sentence in Azkaban-- and you wouldn’t have a brother anymore. The only people who are allowed to use an Unforgivable Curse are Aurors, and even then, only in unavoidable situations.” He pulled a flat green card out of his robes pocket. “This is my Auror license. This box right here, on the left corner, is marked ‘LTK.’ That stands for ‘License To Kill.’ But I doubt I’ll ever need to use it.”

Haley nodded again. “Um… I’ve got another question. What about Uncle Ron?”

“He’s killed three people over the course of his life: Severus Snape, in the final battle against Voldemort; Lucius Malfoy eleven years ago; then that same night, Fenrir Greyback. Lucius Malfoy and Greyback were part of a Death Eater revival that was planning on attacking me.”

Haley knew all about Greyback-- she had seen her uncle kill him right there on her front porch when she was three. It was why she could see thestrals.

“But he still feels guilty about using his LTK-- you can tell it bothers him. It really weighs on your mind,” he continued, his eyes darkening. Haley was frightened. Her father was usually so confident and secure, and now he looked sad and tired and… old. “Anyway, Ron didn’t use the Avada Kedavra on Snape, either. Actually, he didn’t even use his wand. What happened was, he--”

“Dad? I… I don’t think I’m really ready to talk about this yet,” Haley cut him off in a small voice.

Harry kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he told her sincerely. “Why don’t you go back into your dormitory? Today is a happy day-- it’s not my place to go about depressing people.”

Haley left the room to return to her dormitory, but she couldn’t help but wonder madly as she had so many times before, “What happened the night Voldemort died? What did Dad do?”

* * * * *

A little bit later, everyone was boarding the Hogwarts Express to go home for the summer. Due to the five hundred points that Jordan, Haley, Emma, Ivy, and Ted had earned the previous night, Gryffindor had won the house cup, and Edwin Weasley and Tyrone Thomas had thrown a huge party in the Common Room.

While all of the Gryffindors were in high spirits, the Slytherins seemed rather diminished without Ophidias. Although he, like Edwin, was not one of the oldest house prefects, the Slytherins had always looked to him as a leader. A Slytherin girl in their year named Charybdis Nott appeared to be wearing a sandwich board that read, “FREE OPHIDIAS!”

As Emma walked by Charybdis, she asked sweetly, “Er, who on earth would want Ophidias, even if he was free? You should be paying people to take him off of your hands.” Charybdis looked confused, and Emma laughed and shook her head before walking off to board the Hogwarts Express.

They found a compartment on the train, but it was hardly a private place to sit. Nearly everyone who passed by, if they didn’t have the courage to actually enter the compartment and praise the five of them for their actions the previous night, would press their faces up to the door and goggle at them. Ivy couldn’t help but feel as though she was on display at a zoo.

A short while into the train ride, Haley came back from the bathroom with a piece of interesting news. “Hey, Edwin thinks he’s found a jar full of billywigs. Who wants to go check it out?”

Emma and Ted quickly stood up to follow Haley. “Are you two coming?” Ted asked.

Ivy shook her head. “I’m fine,” she told him.

“Me, too,” Jordan said flatly.

“If you’re sure,” Ted shrugged with one last glance toward Ivy, and he, Emma, and Haley traipsed off toward Edwin Weasley’s compartment, leaving Ivy and Jordan alone together.

For a bit, the siblings kept quiet, their noses in books. But Ivy couldn’t concentrate. She lowered her novel and said, “So how are you?”

“Fine,” Jordan answered. He didn’t elaborate.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Ivy let him know. “I meant… about… Malfoy.”

Jordan sighed and slouched down even lower in his seat. “It’s really good and all,” he muttered, “I mean, with Malfoy gone and me being called a hero. But the thing is, I’m still not different. It’s just another way I’m like Dad. If Dad wasn’t already such a big hero, everyone would notice so much more. I feel like I… like nothing’s changed.”

Ivy blinked. “Jordan, if you hate it so much when people compare you to Dad, then why do you compare yourself to him? You couldn’t be Dad’s total opposite without being an Overseer-- mind you, you’re closer to that than any of the rest of us.”

Her brother frowned. “That’s another thing,” he stated. “Why… why did you believe that I was an Overseer? I’m far too intelligent to do anything that idiotic, and you know it.”

Ivy chose her words as carefully as one would Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. “Well… for one, that was some very good acting on your part. But, er, the thing is, you’ve been acting a bit… odd all year. We were all worried about you. And then, you said that you were on the Dark Side, and we figured that it made sense, that that was why you were always shutting yourself up alone in the dormitory and getting mad at us.” She spoke very softly-- she had a feeling that her brother would get offended and start shouting at her.

But Jordan did something peculiar. He blinked, then bowed his head. “You really thought I was on the Dark Side…” he breathed. “I know I wasn’t exactly nice this year, but… I must have been pretty awful. I’m sorry.”

Ivy was taken aback. Jordan rarely apologized for anything, and when he did, he never said, ‘I’m sorry.’ He would make a half apology or mutter, ‘I won’t do it again’ under his breath in an aggravated sort of way. “That’s okay,” Ivy said. She reopened her book. “Of course, you know what Dad would say?” she asked, not looking up from her page. “Just worry about being Jordan, not anybody else.”

“But everyone else thinks I should be… Potter Junior,” Jordan sighed. “Even Malfoy called me that.”

“People expect me to be Malfoy’s little girl,” Ivy replied. “And Malfoy also called me that.” She turned a page in her book, but Jordan reached out and snapped it shut.

Now Ivy was really stunned. Her brother never closed people’s books, as he hated it so much when other people did it to him. “What was that for?” she asked, more curiously than indignantly.

“Because I want to know what’s eating you,” Jordan answered. “I mean, it made sense when you were upset about Malfoy being on the loose, but he’s gone now.”

Ivy swept back her fringe. “Well… I’ve been thinking a lot about Malfoy,” she admitted. “The thing is, he was a really terrible person, he killed loads of Muggles and Muggle-borns, but when he saw me… it was like he was the dad I remembered from when I was little. They were like two different people: Draco Malfoy and The Dark Master. I just feel horrible about letting him get the Dementors’ kiss right there in front of me! After all, he was treating me like… like the prodigal son, you know?”

She was spilling everything out now. She hadn’t said this to anyone-- not her parents, not Haley and Emma, not even Ted. She didn’t know what was making her reveal it now. “I mean, think about it. I know you and Haley and Mum and Dad and Jonathan and Holly are my family now, but my birth mother and my biological brother are both in Azkaban. It doesn’t feel right. I feel like I did something wrong, not like I’m a hero.”

Jordan nodded gravely. “Me, too,” he told her. “After all, it was me who shot the spell at him. I know it was only a stunner, but because of my spell, he hasn’t got a soul anymore. It was like how Dad got rid of Voldemort. That was all luck as well-- luck and nerve. He didn’t have any plans or anything, it just… happened.”

Ivy’s pale eyes widened. “Wait, Dad told you how he killed Voldemort?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Jordan locked his fingers together and stared down at them, not meeting Ivy’s eyes. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked at last. Ivy nodded patiently. Jordan shifted in his seat and took a deep breath.

“All right, well, when I was ten years old, I went into Dad’s study to ask him a question, and he wasn’t in. But he did have his Pensieve on his desk-- only I didn’t know what it was back then, only that he told me not to touch it. But I was really curious, and, well, I looked into the Pensieve-- it was all an accident, I didn’t know what would happen-- and I… I saw it.”

“Saw what?” breathed Ivy.

“The final battle against Voldemort. I saw Dad defeat him. It was…really horrible.” He gulped. It would be so hard to relay his story to Ivy; he didn’t want to have to relive his memory, but somehow, telling her his story seemed to lift a heavy weight off of his chest.

“What happened was, Dad was over by the graveyard at Godric’s Hollow when--”

The train’s compartment door slid open, and Haley, Emma, and Ted walked inlooking slightly disappointed. “What a rip-off,” snarled Emma. “Those weren’t even billywigs, just stupid horseflies. The only thing that happened was I got a bite the size of a snitch on my arm.”

“Huh?” Ivy was momentarily confused.

“The billywigs,” explained Ted, looking at her closely. “Edwin thought he found a jar of them. Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Ivy said quickly.

“Yeah, we’re just peachy,” muttered Jordan.

* * * * *

A few hours later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. “Well, this is it!” announced Haley. “Just think, in a few short months, we’ll be fifth years, having to worry about OWLs testing and prefect stuff!”

“Thanks for reminding me, Haley,” Jordan moaned.

“Think any of us will make prefect?” Ted asked curiously.

“Jordan,” everyone else, including Jordan, answered in unison.

They all hefted their trunks down from the luggage rack and down the aisle of the train. Suddenly, five or six Slytherin second year boys stampeded out of their compartment, tripping Emma and separating her from her other four friends. “Watch where you’re going!” she yelled after them. The Slytherin boys didn’t even say ‘sorry’ as they trampled toward the door.

Emma rolled her eyes and picked up her trunk, which had been knocked over in the process. She then proceeded to drag it toward the door of the train, feeling vaguely irritated.

Tyrone was lounging by the door, leaning casually against the nearest seat. “Go on,” he offered silkily. “Age before beauty.”

Emma smirked. Typical Tyrone, managing to be arrogant even when he was doing her a favor. He knew as well as he did that she was only born two days before him. “Well, thanks. Hey, er, you know, if you want to write to me this summer, I wouldn’t mind. Just so you know-- in case you wanted to write,” she mentioned.

Tyrone nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking I might. You know, as a favour to you and all.” He ran a hand through his gelled curls.

Emma gave him a slight smile and began to descend the steps to the platform. “Bye, Tyrone! See you in September!”

“Wait, Emma!” Tyrone jumped down the three steps onto the platform all at once. “Hey, I was thinking, when we start school again next year, would you like to, you know, go out with me?”

Emma studied Tyrone. Despite his casual tone, she could tell he was sincere; his frame had a certain nervous rigidity to it that wasn’t normally there, his bright hazel eyes shone with anticipation, and his typical grin was eager and earnest. He wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending that this was no big deal to him. Looking into his face and remembering everything that had happened year, Emma knew what her answer would be.

“No,” she replied softly. Tyrone’s face fell, but he regained composure quickly, as he was apt to do. Emma picked up her trunk again and headed back toward where her friends were waiting with their families, but not until after she had looked back over her shoulder at Tyrone.

“Not yet,” she added.

* * * * *

“I don’t believe it, you turned down Tyrone Thomas again!” Haley exclaimed later that day. The girls were sitting in Haley’s bedroom, painting their toenails. “I just don’t get it. He likes you, and you know you like him.”

“Who says?” demanded Emma.

“Everyone!” responded Haley. “And why wouldn’t you? Come on, don’t you think he’s good-looking?”

“Erm… yeah…of course…” Emma admitted. “But that doesn’t mean�””

“Do you think he’s funny?”

“Yeah, but...”

“Best darn Beater anywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Got the prettiest speaking voice of any boy in the history of the world?”

“Yeah…”

“I knew it! Why won’t you go out with him?”

“Because it’s stupid! Besides, he doesn’t take that type of thing seriously! He’s a good friend now that I know him and all, but he could never just focus on dating one person.”

“Just like you,” Ivy put in quietly. Emma and Haley looked at her, totally bewildered.

“What do you mean? I’ve never had a boyfriend, and Tyrone’s gone out with like nine girls already!” Emma informed her indignantly.

“Exactly,” elaborated Ivy. “You’ve never gone out with anyone or taken a date to the Valentines’ Day Ball, even though you’ve been asked, because, in your own words, ‘it takes all the fun out of life.’ You don’t take that type of thing seriously, either. You just go about it in a different way.” Ivy was beginning to think that Ted’s talent for noticing things that no one else did was rubbing off on her.

Emma stared at her friend, totally at a loss for words. Instead, she muttered nonsense under her breath, words like ‘totally wrong’ and ‘doesn’t know what she’s talking about’.

“So, Ivy,” chirped Haley. “While we’re on the subject, what’s up with you and Ted?”

Ivy didn’t say anything at all, and there was an awkward silence. Finally, she commented loudly, “Soooo, how about those Chudley Cannons?”


* * * * *

The five of them didn’t exactly get a relaxing first day of summer holidays. They all woke at six in the morning to go to Hogsmeade for a special ceremony and press conference held by the Minister of Magic. They were all wearing their dress robes-- Haley in pink, Ivy in silver, Jordan in dark green, Ted in blue, and Emma in her brand new maroon robes.

“I don’t like those,” Ron grumbled as he passed by his daughter to pick up the pot of floo powder. (Everyone had gathered at Number Seven, Griffin Circle, to travel into Hogsmeade.)

Hermione laughed. “Oh, you’ve never liked maroon, Ron. It looks nice on Emma, though, even if it never was your colour.”

“I liked corned beef, too,” Emma put in lightly as they stepped, one by one, into the fireplace: Harry and Ginny (each carrying one of the baby twins), Jordan, Haley, and Ivy, Ron, Hermione, Emma, Remus, Tonks, Ted, and lastly Christina and Nathaniel Lupin, Ted’s fully-grown older siblings.

When they climbed out of the fireplace, they found themselves in a large theatre, full of plush purple seats and a stage where the Minister of Magic stood behind a podium, accompanied by several important-looking wizards and witches. The five seats nearest the podium were vacant, and a wizened old usher escorted the five friends onto the stage and into their seats.

The Minister of Magic cleared his throat. He was a tall, thin, neat-looking man with bright red hair and immaculate navy blue robes-- and he just so happened to be Percy Weasley. Percy was actually quite a good Minister of Magic, despite what some of his family members might have feared, and he had been the youngest wizard ever to be elected Minister of Magic when he first succeeded the position six years before.

“Welcome, everyone,” he announced, speaking to the huge crowd seated in the audience. “We’re gathered here for a very important ceremony-- to honor the five children who captured the Dark Master, Draco Malfoy. As Minister of Magic, it gives me great pleasure to present Mr. Jordan Potter, Miss Harriet-Lily Potter, Miss Ivy Potter, Miss Emma Weasley, and Mr. Theodore Lupin.” There was thunderous applause as the five of them got up from their seats and made their way toward the podium.

They were the longest six steps that Ted had ever taken. He felt as though somebody had put the jelly-legs jinx on him-- he couldn’t remember ever having so many eyes on him, even at his Sorting. There were news reporters, celebrities, and most of the Ministry of Magic, all staring at him.

Several Ministry workers scuttled over toward the five of them and looped heavy gold medals on bright purple and gold silk ribbons, around their necks. Ted looked at his medal; upon it was engraved, “THE ALBUS DUMBLEDORE AWARD FOR EXTRAORDINARY COURAGE IN THE FACE OF DANGER.” Reflected back in the shiny solid-gold pendant was his own face, wearing an expression of mingled joy, shock, nervousness, and pride. The face that looked up at him had changed almost beyond recognition since his third year-- more adult than child now, and thin and worn from his werewolf transformations, and he thought how much he had changed as a person as well.

“These medals,” announced the Minister of Magic, “are the Albus Dumbledore Award For Extraordinary Courage In The Face of Danger. This award was created in 1945 after the defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald by Albus Dumbledore, and has only been presented three times since then… until now. This, therefore, is a historical event. What these five children, who the newspapers are now calling ‘Potter’s Pentagon,’ or ‘The Five,’ have done required outstanding bravery and quick wits such that most fully-qualified wizards wouldn’t have been able to do the same. This is made even more special by the fact that the last recipients of the Albus Dumbledore Award were Potter’s Eight-- six of whom are the parents of these same children. I think now is the right time for any of The Five to say a few words on their behalf.”

Ted certainly didn’t want to make a speech; he hadn’t done much, simply chased Malfoy around like an attack dog. Any of the other four were more worthy. “How about you, Haley?” he whispered. He knew she was the most loquacious of his friends, and the least likely to get stage fright.

Haley shook her head. “I think it’s Jordan’s turn,” she whispered back.

Jordan looked startled. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Wait, me?” he whispered. The other four nodded as one, and at this, he gave them a small smile and stumbled forward the podium, where Percy handed him his wand (which was bewitched with the Sonorous spell.)

“It feels absolutely incredible to be here today,” Jordan said. He had no idea what he was going to say in his speech; he hadn’t planned anything, deciding to just say anything that popped into his head. “But I also feel a bit guilty for accepting this award. My friends and I didn’t do anything that no one else would have in the same situation�”well, except for Ted, of course. We just did what we had to, and we got lucky.

“And my friends do make a great team. Ted always stays cool when there’s a problem, and he never panics. Ivy’s got the most common sense. Emma’s incredibly brave, and she knows every jinx and hex imaginable. And Haley, well, I think I’d underestimated her. Even if school isn’t her forte, she thinks incredibly quickly and she’s literally a genius when it comes to coming up with plans and strategies. As for me… I didn’t think about how important a team was. I thought I was clever enough to do it all by myself, finish off Malfoy just like that. But I was wrong, and I learned a lot from what happened that night.

“People are comparing me to my dad now. People have been saying it to me for years, and all it ever did was make me angry, but I never really thought about it until I talked to my sister Ivy yesterday. The truth is, I’m not him. He’s absolutely brilliant at the actual action, coming up with ideas right there on the spot. He’s brave, and he’s an amazing wizard. And to be honest, I’d rather stay safe at home than actually fight a duel.

“And I’m not going to try to be Harry Potter anymore, because there can only be one Harry Potter. You can call us Potter’s Pentagon, but let’s be realistic, we’re not Potter’s Eight. Malfoy wasn’t Voldemort. And even my father needed help from his friends to defeat Voldemort. And a bunch of true friends is something that I definitely have.

“The biggest thing I’ve learned is to not overlook them, to appreciate them, because even though I hadn’t been a very good friend to them lately, they came to help me out when I was in danger... and if it wasn’t for them, we might not be here today. My friends stayed with me, no matter how much of a… a git I was, I suppose you can say. And… that’s all I have to say right now.”

Everyone applauded, and Jordan smiled a smile that was full of relief, relief that his speech had ended successfully and that he had managed to admit he had been wrong and thank his friends for what they’d done, something he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do before.

He had said everything that he’d been thinking for the last two days but couldn’t find the time to tell anyone, things that for the most part didn’t even have to do with the reason he was there: Malfoy’s defeat. But he had done it, and it took a huge weight off of his chest.

When he returned to where his friends were standing, the first thing he noticed was that Haley was crying. She was smiling, but her eyes were full of tears. Before Jordan knew what was happening, his twin sister had flung her arms around him and given him a big smooch on the cheek.

“You’re brilliant, Jordan!” she exclaimed, and the audience erupted into cheers.

Percy climbed back on top of his podium. “Also, I have another announcement to make,” he proclaimed. “I must admit my failings as Minister of Magic-- if I had placed tighter security on Azkaban prison and devised a better alert system, we might have never had to have this ceremony. I was wrong to trust the Dementors after we knew what happened with Lord Voldemort. Malfoy might never have gotten a chance to kill anyone. Therefore, I’m going to abdicate my position as Minister of Magic, and appoint someone who really understands Defense Against the Dark Arts and will implement his skills to prevent anything like this from ever happening again. For that reason I’ve chosen… the Head Auror, Harry Potter!”

The audience began to whisper, mumble, and cheer at this new as Harry got up from his seat and walked up to the stage. Jordan froze with disbelief. His father, the Minister of Magic? He’d be the son of the most powerful man in the wizarding world?

“Thank you, Minister,” Harry said calmly. “But with all due respect… I am choosing to decline the offer. You are an excellent Minister of Magic, and I know you’ll continue to do an excellent job. As for Malfoy’s escape, someone very wise once told me that the only way to succeed is to look into the future rather than dwelling in the past. So, if you’ll allow me, I choose not to accept the position.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience following this short speech. “You’re sure?” Percy asked, blinking. Harry nodded. “All right… then, I shall continue to do my best to fulfill my duties as Minister of Magic.”

“I know you will,” Harry told him softly.

* * * * *

After the ceremony, Ted, Jordan, Emma, Ivy, and Haley were walking through the streets of Hogsmeade, window-shopping and drinking butterbeer. They were accompanied by Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione (Ted’s family was buying a birthday present for Great-aunt Ethelfritha) and everyone was in an extremely good mood.

“Hey, if you don’t mind, I have some business to attend to down that way,” Ron informed him, jerking a thumb toward a nearby path.

“It’s all right, we’ll meet you back here in a bit,” Ginny told him. Ron nodded, and hurried down the side road.

“What’s down there?” Ivy asked curiously. “What’s he doing?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know,” she mused. “As far as I know, all that’s down that road are a few robe shops, a barbershop, and Zonko’s. Knowing Ron, though, he likes to do his shopping as quickly as possible, so I expect he’ll be back soon. Maybe we should sit down here.”

They all took a seat on a bench. “Jordan, I’ve been meaning to tell you how good your speech was,” Harry told his son. “It was very touching.”

“Thank you,” Jordan answered, and it was a sincere ‘thank you.’ He didn’t mumble or use the normal flat, indifferent tone of voice that he favored, which was very unusual for him. He cocked his head to the side.

“Dad, why didn’t you want to be Minister of Magic? How could you not accept the offer? If you said ‘yes,’ you’d be the most powerful man in the wizarding world!”

Harry smiled and put his arms around Ginny and Haley, those on either side of him on his bench. “Because,” he replied, “I have everything I want here. I have a greatfamily, a job I love… and you said it yourself, that’s it’s good to be yourself. I don’t think I’m the Minister of Magic type, to tell you the truth. Too much desk work. And I get bored really easily… I think Haley got her ADHD from me, to be honest.”

“Hey, question. Now that Malfoy’s gone, is Ted’s dad going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts again, or are you going to stay?” Haley wanted to know.

“Professor Lupin will take over again,” Harry informed her. “I think I make a better Auror than a teacher.”

“You were a great teacher, though!” Ted told him.

“Thanks, but I really miss my old job. And I also want my office back!” said Harry.

“With its spinny chair?” Haley asked eagerly.

“Yes, with its spinny chair,” Harry clarified. “Especially that.”

“Ron will be crushed,” Hermione remarked. “He really enjoyed getting to use your office. Now he’ll have to take down all of his Chudley Cannons posters, and all of his baby pictures of Emma!” At this, Emma moaned and buried her face in her hands.

Haley laughed. “Now that Malfoy isn’t on the loose anymore, we’ll actually be able to have a good year at Hogwarts when it starts up again,” she commented, changing the subject. “Jordan won’t be acting like such a git anymore--”

“Hey!” Jordan yelped.

“-- and Ivy won’t be a basket case all the time--”

“Hey!” Ivy exclaimed indignantly.

“-- and Emma will finally cave the next time Tyrone asks her out!” she finished up happily.

“Hey!” Emma growled.

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. “Yeah, it’s definitely going to be an interesting fifth year…” Harry began.

“Harry,” Hermione warned, “you promised that you wouldn’t tell them!”

“We won’t tell them,” Ginny assured her.

“But if we did,” continued Harry, “It would be that Hogwarts is going to be hosting the Triwizard Tournament again for the first time in twenty-five years, and that the tasks are going to be less dangerous, so the cut-off age is fifteen, and…”

“HARRY!” Hermione screeched, but the damage was done.

The five friends grinned at each other. “Wicked,” breathed Emma.

“The Triwizard Tournament? That’s amazing!” gushed Ivy. “And we’ll get to see Marina!” Marina Weasley, their cousin and the daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, was a rising sixth year at Beauxbatons and quite a good friend of theirs.

They all continued to discuss the Triwizard Tournament for quite some time, until Ron’s long, lean frame reappeared. He didn’t appear to be carrying anything. “Hi,” he greeted them. “Well, what do you think?” He turned his head to the side, and everyone gasped. From the front, he looked the same as ever, the same slicked bright-red hair and long, buzzed sideburns-- but from this angle, a change was evident.

“Ron,” gasped Hermione. “You’ve cut off that ridiculous ponytail of yours!” And without warning, she burst out laughing. “You are so… so… something! I’ve been trying to get you to get rid of your stupid ponytail for the last seventeen years, and now you finally do it!” She kissed him lightly on the nose, standing on tiptoe to achieve such great altitude. “Well, you look quite handsome,” she told him.

“Why now, though?” Ginny wanted to know. “Why not, say, seventeen years ago?”

“I figured it wasn’t really my style,” Ron shrugged. “And also, any hairdo that Malfoy thinks looks good, isn’t good enough for me.” Everyone laughed; although Ron’s short, slicked ponytail had hardly resembled the long white-blond cascade of hair favored by Malfoy, this was a typical reason for Ron to get a haircut.

“Well, I’m starving,” declared Ron. “And it’s starting to drizzle. Let’s find a place to get lunch. Any suggestions?”

Ted pulled a crumpled menu out of his pocket. “I ate here once with my family. It’s a Chinese restaurant, down on First Street.”

“I didn’t know they had Chinese restaurants in Hogsmeade,” mentioned Emma.

“They have everything in Hogsmeade,” Jordan informed her. “Argh, the rain’s getting harder. Anyway, what’s the place called?”

“Hoo’s On First,” replied Ted. “I know, it’s a cheesy name--”

“I think it’s funny!” interjected Ron.

“--but they have really good chow mein,” Ted finished up. “Especially the beef.”

Haley cracked up in hysterical laughter, and everyone stopped walking to stare at her. “Sorry,” she giggled. “But, oh my gosh, Ted, that’s hilarious! You just reminded me of a song I know!” She began to sing rather loudly, turning the heads of passersby.

“I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of Hogsmeade in the rain.
He was looking for a place called Hoo’s On First
Going to get himself a big dish of beef chow mein.
Awooo! Werewolves of London! Awooo!

If you hear him howling ‘round your kitchen door
Better not let him in.
That Malfoy almost got mutilated late last night.
Werewolves of London again!”

Everyone joined her in the chorus-- the tune was quite catchy. “Awooo! Werewolves of London! Awooo!” They didn’t care that people were looking at them-- even Jordan sang along with gusto, feeling as carefree as his sister.

Suddenly, Ted realized with some surprise that his voice was no longer cracking and squeaking haphazardly as it had for the past several months. It had settled down to a new, lower pitch sometime not too long before. He’d been so busy lately, he hadn’t even noticed.

The five friends were not normal children, even by wizarding standards. But today, they were having fun on summer vacation with their families, like any other kids in the world.

They might be The Five, now famous and well-known, and they might have all had problems of their own, but right now none of it seemed to matter. And they knew, as they dodged the rain drops now pelting down upon them, that things were looking up.

THE END

A/N; Well, that's it! Expect the second book (and yes, the second and third books really are "books," unlike this one) to come soon.

I'd really, really like everyone who reviews this chapter to tell me which of my original characters (sorry, I know you all wanted to vote for Zabini!) you like best and which one you like least. If you could do that for me, I would wuv you even more, you lovely reviewers, you!